Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Isab. Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins
Isab. We kill the fowle of season: shall we serue heauen
Isab. With lesse respect then we doe minister
Isab. To our grosse‑selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you;
Isab. Who is it that hath di'd for this offence?
Isab. There's many haue committed it.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. I, well said.
Ang. Ang.
Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, thogh it hath slept
Ang. Those many had not dar'd to doe that euill
Ang. If the first;, that did th'Edict infringe
Ang. Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,
Ang. Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet
Ang. Lookes in a glasse that shewes what future euils
Ang. Either now, or by remissenesse, new conceiu'd,
Ang. And so in progresse to be hatch'd, and borne,
Ang. Are now to haue no successiue degrees,
Ang. But here they liue to end.
Isab. Isab.