Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Moore. And send it to the King: he for the same,
Moore. Will send thee hither both thy sonnes aliue,
Moore. And that shall be the ransome for their fault.
Ti. Ti.
Ti. Oh gracious Emperour, oh gentle Aaron.
Ti. Did euer Rauen sing so like a Larke,
Ti. That giues sweet tydings of the Sunnes vprise?
Ti. With all my heart, Ile send the Emperour my hand,
Ti. Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off?
Lu. Lu.
Lu. Stay Father, for that noble hand of thine,
Lu. That hath throwne downe so many enemies,
Lu. Shall not be sent: my hand will serue the turne,
Lu. My youth can better spare my blood then you,
Lu. And therfore mine shall saue my brothers liues.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
Mar. And rear'd aloft the bloody Battleaxe,
Mar. Writing destruction on the enemies Castle?
Mar. Oh none of both but are of high desert: