Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Poet. Whose eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt,
Poet. One do I personate of Lord Timons frame,
Poet. Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her,
Poet. Whose present grace, to present slaues and seruants
Poet. Translates his Riuals.
Pain. Pain.
Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scope
Pain. This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes
Pain. With
Pain. Timon of Athens.
Pain. With one man becken'd from the rest below,
Pain. Bowing his head against the steepy Mount
Pain. To climbe his happinesse, would be well exprest
Pain. In our Condition.
Poet. Poet.
Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on:
Poet. All those which were his Fellowes but of late,
Poet. Some better then his valew; on the moment
Poet. Follow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance,
Poet. Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare,