Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Stew. When all our Offices haue beene opprest
Stew. With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept
Stew. With drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roome
Stew. Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsie,
Stew. I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull cocke,
Stew. And set mine eyes at flow.
Tim. Tim.
Tim. Prythee no more.
Stew. Stew.
Stew. Heauens, haue I said, the bounty of this Lord:
Stew. How many prodigall bits haue Slaues and Pezants
Stew. This night englutted: who is not Timons,
Stew. What heart, head, sword, force, meanes, but is L. Lord Timons:
Stew. Great Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon:
Stew. Ah, when the meanes are gone, that buy this praise,
Stew. The breath is gone, whereof this praise is made:
Stew. Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of Winter showres,
Stew. These flyes are coucht.
Tim. Come sermon me no further.