The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



Text and Image

Here you can read a digital edition of each play in various views.

Page Image & Text
Digital Text
XML

Reference: hh1v - Tragedies, p. 90

Left Column


Timon of Athens. Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench, And minister in their steeds, to generall Filthes. Conuert o'th'Instant greene Virginity, Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast
[1445]
Rather then render backe; out with your Kniues, And cut your Trusters throates. Bound Seruants, steale, Large‑handed Robbers your graue Masters are, And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed, Thy Mistris is o'th'Brothell. Some of sixteen,
[1450]
Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old limping Sire, With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare, Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iustice, Truth, Domesticke awe, Night‑rest, and Neighbour‑hood, Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades,
[1455]
Degrees, Obseruances, Customes, and Lawes, Decline to your confounding contraries. And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious Feauors, heape On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold Sciatica,
[1460]
Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt As lamely as their Manners. Lust, and Libertie Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth, That 'gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue, And drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines,
[1465]
Sowe all th'Athenian bosomes, and their crop Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath, That their Society (as their Friendship) may Be meerely poyson. Nothing Ile beare from thee But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne,
[1470]
Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes: Timon will to the Woods, where he shall finde Th'vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde. The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all) Th'Athenians both within and out that Wall:
[1475]
And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low. Amen.
Exit.
[Act 4, Scene 2] Enter Steward with two or three Seruants. 1 Heare you M. Master Steward, where's our Master? Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining? Stew.
[1480]
Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as you.
1 Such a House broke? So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not
[1485]
One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme, And go along with him.
2 As we do turne our backes From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes
[1490]
Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre, With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.
Enter other Seruants. Stew.
[1495]
All broken Implements of a ruin'd house.
3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke, And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke,
[1500]
Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part Into this Sea of Ayre.
Stew. Good Fellowes all,

Image


[full image]

Right Column


The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you. Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake,
[1505]
Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore. Embrace and part seuerall wayes.
[1510]
Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, An ink mark follows the end of this line. Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt? Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue But in a Dreame of Friendship,
[1515]
To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good.
[1520]
Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord)
[1525]
Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends: Nor ha's he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it: Ile follow and enquire him out.
[1530]
Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still.
Exit.
[Act 4, Scene 3] Enter Timon in the woods. Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity: below thy Sisters Orbe Infect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe,
[1535]
Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes, The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature (To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great Fortune But by contempt of Nature.
[1540]
Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord, The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary, The Begger Natiue Honor. It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides, The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares
[1545]
In puritie of Manhood stand vpright And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be, So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate Duckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie:
[1550]
There's nothing leuell in our cursed Natures But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd, All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men. His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines, Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes,
[1555]
Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate With thy most operant Poyson. What is heere? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold? No Gods, I am no idle Votarist, Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make
[1560]
Blacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right; Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant. Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this Will lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides: Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads. This

Download the digital text and images of the play



 
[Act 4, Scene 2] Enter Steward with two or three Seruants. 1 Heare you M. Master Steward, where's our Master? Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining? Stew.
[1480]
Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as you.
1 Such a House broke? So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not
[1485]
One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme, And go along with him.
2 As we do turne our backes From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes
[1490]
Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre, With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.
Enter other Seruants. Stew.
[1495]
All broken Implements of a ruin'd house.
3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke, And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke,
[1500]
Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part Into this Sea of Ayre.
Stew. Good Fellowes all, The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you. Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake,
[1505]
Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore. Embrace and part seuerall wayes.
[1510]
Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, An ink mark follows the end of this line. Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt? Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue But in a Dreame of Friendship,
[1515]
To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good.
[1520]
Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord)
[1525]
Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends: Nor ha's he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it: Ile follow and enquire him out.
[1530]
Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still.
Exit.
 

Download the digital text of the play

        
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="2" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 4, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tim-lor.1">
      <speaker>1</speaker>
      <l n="1478">Heare you<choice>
            <abbr>M.</abbr>
            <expan>Master</expan>
         </choice>Steward, where's our Master?</l>
      <l n="1479">Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tim-flv">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <l n="1480">Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you?</l>
      <l n="1481">Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods,</l>
      <l n="1482">I am as poore as you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tim-lor.1">
      <speaker>1</speaker>
      <l n="1483">Such a House broke?</l>
      <l n="1484">So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not</l>
      <l n="1485">One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme,</l>
      <l n="1486">And go along with him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tim-lor.2">
      <speaker>2</speaker>
      <l n="1487">As we do turne our backes</l>
      <l n="1488">From our Companion, throwne into his graue,</l>
      <l n="1489">So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes</l>
      <l n="1490">Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him</l>
      <l n="1491">Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe</l>
      <l n="1492">A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,</l>
      <l n="1493">With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty,</l>
      <l n="1494">Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter other Seruants.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tim-flv">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <l n="1495">All broken Implements of a ruin'd house.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tim-lor.3">
      <speaker>3</speaker>
      <l n="1496">Yet do our hearts weare<hi rend="italic">Timons</hi>Liuery,</l>
      <l n="1497">That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still,</l>
      <l n="1498">Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke,</l>
      <l n="1499">And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke,</l>
      <l n="1500">Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part</l>
      <l n="1501">Into this Sea of Ayre.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tim-flv">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <l n="1502">Good Fellowes all,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1503">The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you.</l>
      <l n="1504">Where euer we shall meete, for<hi rend="italic">Timons</hi>sake,</l>
      <l n="1505">Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say</l>
      <l n="1506">As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes,</l>
      <l n="1507">We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some:</l>
      <l n="1508">Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more,</l>
      <l n="1509">Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.</l>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Embrace and part seuerall wayes.</stage>
      <l n="1510">Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs!</l>
      <l n="1511">Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,</l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
      <l n="1512">Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt?</l>
      <l n="1513">Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue</l>
      <l n="1514">But in a Dreame of Friendship,</l>
      <l n="1515">To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds,</l>
      <l n="1516">But onely painted like his varnisht Friends:</l>
      <l n="1517">Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart,</l>
      <l n="1518">Vndone by Goodnesse: strange vnvsuall blood,</l>
      <l n="1519">When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good.</l>
      <l n="1520">Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen?</l>
      <l n="1521">For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men.</l>
      <l n="1522">My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst,</l>
      <l n="1523">Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes</l>
      <l n="1524">Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord)</l>
      <l n="1525">Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate</l>
      <l n="1526">Of monstrous Friends:</l>
      <l n="1527">Nor ha's he with him to supply his life,</l>
      <l n="1528">Or that which can command it:</l>
      <l n="1529">Ile follow and enquire him out.</l>
      <l n="1530">Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will,</l>
      <l n="1531">Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
</div>

        
        

Download the XML