Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Stew. Something hath beene amisse; a Noble Nature
Stew. May catch a wrench; would all were well; tis pitty,
Stew. And so intending other serious matters,
Stew. After distastefull lookes; and these hard Fractions
Stew. With certaine halfe‑caps, and cold mouing nods,
Stew. They froze me into Silence.
Tim. Tim.
Tim. You Gods reward them:
Tim. Prythee man looke cheerely. These old Fellowes
Tim. Haue their ingratitude in them Hereditary:
Tim. Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it sildome flowes,
Tim. 'Tis lacke of kindely warmth, they are not kinde;
Tim. And Nature, as it growes againe toward earth,
Tim. Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and heauy.
Tim. Go to Ventiddius (prythee be not sad,
Tim. Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speake,
Tim. No blame belongs to thee:) Ventiddius lately
Tim. Buried his Father, by whose death hee's stepp'd
Tim. Into a great estate: When he was poore,
Tim. Imprison'd, and in scarsitie of Friends,