Timon. say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, Which once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover. Poet. Admirable. How this grace Speaks his own standing! What a mental power This eye shoots forth! How big imagination Moves in this lip! Wherefore, ere this time, Have you not fully laid my state before me? Flam. Is't possible, the world should so much differ; And we alive, that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee. Act III. Scene I. Timon. Nothing I'll bear from thee, But nakedness, thou détestable town! Take thou that too, with multiplying banns! Act IV. Scene I. Sold. What's on this tomb I cannot read; the charac ter I'll take in wax. Act V. Scene IV. |