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 | | Haile to thee worthy Timon and to all that of his Bounties taste: the fiue best Sences acknowledge thee their Patron, and come freely to gratulate thy plentious bosome. |
 | | Timons: Great Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon: Ah, when the meanes are gone, that buy this praise, The breath is gone, whereof this praise is made: Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of Winter showres, These flyes are coucht Tim. |
 | | If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more 1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother, He forfeits his owne blood, that spilles another Alc. |
| www.gutenberg.org /dirs/etext00/0ws3710.txt (15722 words) |
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