Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-c.1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T37 Riches, poverty and covetousness · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T37: wealth, riches, money, god, rich, poverty, men, learning, poor, ic.
I'll hunt with him, And let them be received, not without fair Reward. What will this come to? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, and all out of an empty Coffer: Nor will he know his Purse, or yield me this, To show him what a Beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state, That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes for every word: He is so kind, that he now pays interest for't; His Land's put to their Books. Well, would I were Gently put out of Office, before I were forced out: Happier is he that has no friend to feed, Then such that do e'en Enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my Lord. You do yourselves much wrong, You bate too much of your own merits. here my Lord, a trifle of our Love.. With more than common thankes I will receive it. O he's the very soul of Bounty. And now I remember my Lord, you gave good words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on. 'tis yours because you liked it. Oh, I beseech you pardon me, my Lord, in that. You may take my word my Lord: I know no man can justly praise, but what he does affect. I weigh my Friend's affection with mine own: I'll tell you true, I'll call to you. O none so welcome. I take all, and your several visitations So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give: Me thinks, I could deal Kingdoms to my Friends, And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a Soldier, therefore seldom rich, It comes in Charity to thee: for all thy living Is 'mongst the dead: and all the Lands thou hast Lie in a pitched field. I, defiled Land, my Lord. We are so virtuously bound. And so am I to you. So infinitely endeared. All to you. Lights, more Lights. The best of Happiness, Honour, and Fortunes Keep with you Lord Timon. Ready for his Friends. What a coiles here, serving of becks, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legs be worth the sums that are given for 'em. Friendships' full of dregges, Me thinks false hearts, should never have sound legs. Thus honest Fools lay out their wealth on Curtsies. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen) I would be good to thee. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail uponthee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giv'st so long Timon (I fear me) thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pomps, and Vaine-glories? Nay, and you begin to rail on Society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Music. So: Thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then. I'll lock thy heaven from thee: Oh that men's ears should be To Counsel deaf, but not to Flattery.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ile hunt with him, And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward. What will this come to? He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and all out of an empty Coffer: Nor will he know his Purſe, or yeeld me this, To ſhew him what a Begger his heart is, Being of no power to make his wiſhes good. His promiſes flye ſo beyond his ſtate, That what he ſpeaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word: He is ſo kinde, that he now payes intereſt for't; His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were Gently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out: Happier is he that has no friend to feede, Then ſuch that do e'ne Enemies exceede. I bleed inwardly for my Lord. You do your ſelues much wrong, You bate too much of your owne merits. Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue. With more then common thankes I will receyue it. O he's the very ſoule of Bounty. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good words the other day of a Bay Courſer I rod on. Tis yours becauſe you lik'd it. Oh, I beſeech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that. You may take my word my Lord: I know no man can iuſtly praiſe, but what he does affect. I weighe my Friends affection with mine owne: Ile tell you true, Ile call to you. O none ſo welcome. I take all, and your ſeuerall viſitations So kinde to heart, 'tis not enough to giue: Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my Friends, And nere be wearie. Alcibiades, Thou art a Soldiour, therefore ſildome rich, It comes in Charitie to thee: for all thy liuing Is mong'ſt the dead: and all the Lands thou haſt Lye in a pitcht field. I, defil'd Land, my Lord. We are ſo vertuouſly bound. And ſo am I to you. So infinitely endeer'd. All to you. Lights, more Lights. The beſt of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes Keepe with you Lord Timon. Ready for his Friends. What a coiles heere, ſeruing of beckes, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the ſummes that are giuen for 'em. Friendſhips full of dregges, Me thinkes falſe hearts, ſhould neuer haue ſound legges. Thus honeſt Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtſies. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not ſullen) I would be good to thee. No, Ile nothing; for if I ſhould be brib'd too, there would be none left to raile vponthee, and then thou wouldſt ſinne the faſter. Thou giu'ſt ſo long Timon (I feare me) thou wilt giue away thy ſelfe in paper ſhortly. What needs theſe Feaſts, pompes, and Vaine-glories? Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I am ſworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Muſicke. So: Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou ſhalt not then. Ile locke thy heauen from thee: Oh that mens eares ſhould be To Counſell deafe, but not to Flatterie.