Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cym. Cym.
Cym. O rare instinct!
Cym. When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment,
Cym. Hath to it Circumstantiall branches, which
Cym. Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liu'd you?
Cym. And when came you to serue our Romane Captiue?
Cym. How parted with your Brother? How first met them?
Cym. Why fled you from the Court? And whether these?
Cym. And your three motiues to the Battaile? with
Cym. I know not how much more should be demanded,
Cym. And all the other by‑dependances
Cym. From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place
Cym. Will serue our long Interrogatories. See,
Cym. Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen;
Cym. And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye
Cym. On him: her Brothers, Me: her Master hitting
Cym. Each obiect with a Ioy: the Counter‑change
Cym. Is seuerally in all. Let's quit this ground,
Cym. And smoake the Temple with our Sacrifices.
Cym. Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee euer.