Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Pain. where he abides.
Poet. Poet.
Poet. What's to be thought of him?
Poet. Does the Rumor hold for true,
Poet. That hee's so full of Gold?
Painter. Painter.
Painter. Certaine.
Painter. Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo
Painter. Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd
Painter. Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity.
Painter. 'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward
Painter. A mighty summe.
Poet. Then this breaking of his,
Poet. Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?
Painter. Nothing else:
Painter. You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe,
Painter. And flourish with the highest:
Painter. Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues