Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Leo. For thou sett’st on thy Wife.
Antig. Antig.
Antig. I did not, Sir:
Antig. These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please,
Antig. Can cleare me in’t.
Lords. Lords.
Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,
Lords. He is not guiltie of her comming hither.
Leo. Leo.
Leo. You’re lyers all.
Lord. Lord.
Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit:
Lord. We haue alwayes truly seru’d you, and beseech’
Lord. So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge,
Lord. (As recompence of our deare seruices
Lord. Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose,
Lord. Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lord. Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele.
Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows: