Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Sil. Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,
Sil. But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Sil. Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Sil. Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.
Phe. Phe.
Phe. I would not be thy executioner,
Phe. I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:
Phe. Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,
Phe. 'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,
Phe. That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,
Phe. Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,
Phe. Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.
Phe. Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,
Phe. And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Phe. Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,
Phe. Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,
Phe. Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:
Phe. Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,
Phe. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Phe. Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush