Publications, Volume 11

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Page 60 - From honds in prison to requite mee thus ? To trample o're mee in my misery ? True Scythians broode, cruell, ingratefull, Yee make mee liue in woe and heauines. Tell mee, O tell mee, yee perfidious, Where is your faith vow'd of your owne accorde ? Where are your vowes soe largely promised ? What, are they all gone with the winde ? Dem. Come hither; I will giue thee this one groate, But thou must publish my munificence.
Page 74 - Tim. O happy mee, equall to Joue himselfe ! I going touche the starres. Breake out, O joy, And smother not thyselfe within my breast! Soe many friends, soe many friends I see; Not one hathe falsifi'de his faith to mee. What, if I am opprest with pouertie ? And griefe doth vexe mee ? fortune left mee poore ? All this is nothing : they releeue my wants ; The one doth promise helpe, another golde, A thirde a friendly welcome to his house And entertainement; cache man actes his parte; All promise counsaile...
Page 41 - Lol. Seethe coblers black e and iuice of betony, Mixe thereinto of copres six ounces; Tis present remedy 'gainst itche of hogges. Tim. Hem, Lollio ! Lol. It also takes away the maunge from dogges. Eutr. Lollio ! Tim. Prince ! Lol. A litle more good ale ! Gelas. Bring the cuppe, Obba. Lol. Where are yee all, my butlers ? follow mee ; I will conducte yee to my fathers house ; Follow your prince, followe mee in order : Eutrapelus, thou shalt my ensigne beare ; Display the flaggon as it were a flagge.
Page 14 - tis, last day of March, My calender tells me the very hower. Peed. This is noe Wordling, hee's some Cretian.s [Aside. Gelas. On ffoote, or horse, wents't thou this greate voyage ? Pseud. Vp to the ffeildes Gurgustidonian I rode on horse back ; the Antipodes Were distant thence about an hundred myles ; There I being scene, the Pigmies fearefully Fledd all awaye.
Page 3 - Who beares a princelie mynd needes princelie wealth, Or ells hee'le wither like a rose in springe, Nought wilbe left but thornes of povertie. • Master, thou art noe kinge, noe prince; doe well Vnto thie selfe, and all is well. Tim. Thou speakest like thie selfe, and in thy kinde: Lett those that are borne slaues beare abiect minds. I Timon am, not Laches.
Page 35 - tis Lollio, the sonne Of couetous Philargurus, who ne're Permits his sonne to frequent the cittie, Least hee shoulde learne the citties luxurie ; Hee liues at home, eates browne breade and butter, Sometimes fat bacon. Lol. Good godds, good gods, what preparation ! What a concourse of people ! This zittie zunne Seemes brighter than our country zunne. Lord, Lord, How many starres see I ! how nere they are ! [The signc of the 7 stars.
Page 80 - Thou heretofore did'st turne me forth of dores, When I did giue thee true and good advice : Doth the same fury now possesse thye mynd ? What wickednesse doth make me soe abhor'd ? Tim. Thou art a man, that's wickednesse enough ; I hate that fault ; I hate all humane kinde, I hate myselfe, and curse my parents ghosts. Lach. Doth greife and rage thus ouerflowe theire bancks ? When will they ebbe ? Tim. Thou sooner shalt vnite Water to ffyre, heau'n to hell, darke to light : My mynd is constant with...
Page 3 - ... filled with goulden talents: Is't your pleasure that I cast them into pryson ? Tim. Into pryson \ whye soe ? Lach. Lett your chests be the pryson, Your locks the keeper, and your keyes the porter, Otherwise they'le fly away, swyfter then birds or wyndes. Tim. I will noe miser bee. Flye, gould, enioye the sunn beames ! 'tis not fitt Bright gould should lye hidd in obscuritie ; I'le rather scatter it among the people : Lett poore men somewhat take of my greate plenty; I would not haue them greiue...
Page 60 - This face, these hands thou heretofore didst knowe : Am I soe soone forgotte and wholy chang'd ? And is there nothing now of Timon lefte ? Dem. Thou brazen face, I ne're sawe thee before. Eutr. This fellowe would insinuate, I thinke. Tim. Where hide yee your heads, yee heau'nly powers ? They doe despise their needy friend, yet liue And breathe a guilty soule: O supreme Joue, Why doth thy right hande cease to punish sinne ? Strike one of these with thunder from aboue, And with thy lightening reuenge...
Page 50 - Gelas. To wake a sleeping lyon, what it is, I'le make thee knowe: I'le meditate reuenge Worthy myselfe ; to morrow, arm'd with shielde, I will prouoke thee to encounter mee. Pseud. O valiant champion ! this Theseus Did when hee conquered Hipolita. Eutr. Gelasimus, but heare, Gelasimus : Suppose that Callimela in a rage Come with a drawne sworde threatening thy deathe ? Gelas. Thou saiest very well : these women are A pestiferous kinde of animals ; 'Twere safer fighting with an hoste of men ; Therefore...

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