Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Duk. Duk.
Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough.
Ros. Ros.
Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
Ros. So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Ros. Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Ros. Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
Ros. What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Ros. Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
Ros. To thinke my pouertie is treacherous.
Cel. Cel.
Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake.
Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Duk. Else had she with her Father rang'd along.
Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
Cel. It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
Cel. I was too yong that time to value her,
Cel. But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,