Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mar. My hand hath bin but idle, let it serue
Mar. To ransome my two nephewes from their death,
Mar. Then haue I kept it to a worthy end.
Moore. Moore.
Moore. Nay come agree, whose hand shall goe along
Moore. For feare they die before their pardon come.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. My hand shall goe.
Lu. Lu.
Lu. By heauen it shall not goe.
Ti. Ti.
Ti. Sirs striue no more, such withered hearbs as these
Ti. Are meete for plucking vp, and therefore mine.
Lu. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy sonne,
Lu. Let me redeeme my brothers both from death.
Mar. And for our fathers sake, and mothers care,
Mar. Now let me shew a brothers loue to thee.