3.Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty
Tim. 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
1.L. Oh, I beseech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that
Tim. 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
All Lor. O none so welcome
Tim. 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
Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord
1.Lord. We are so vertuously bound
Tim. And so am I to you
2.Lord. So infinitely endeer'd