Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Fla. Being of no power to make his wishes good.
Fla. His promises flye so beyond his state,
Fla. That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word:
Fla. He is so kinde, that he now payes interest for't;
Fla. His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were
Fla. Gently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out:
Fla. Happier is he that has no friend to feede,
Fla. Then such that do e'ne Enemies exceede.
Fla. I bleed inwardly for my Lord.
Fla. Exit
Tim. Tim.
Tim. You do your selues much wrong,
Tim. You bate too much of your owne merits.
Tim. Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue.
2. Lord. 2. Lord.
2. Lord. With more then common thankes
2. Lord. I will receyue it.
3. Lord. 3. Lord.
3. Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty.