# Result number

Work The work is either a play, poem, or sonnet. The sonnets are treated as single work with 154 parts.

Character Indicates who said the line. If it's a play or sonnet, the character name is "Poet."

Line Shows where the line falls within the work.

The numbering is not keyed to any copyrighted numbering system found in a volume of collected works (Arden, Oxford, etc.) The numbering starts at the beginning of the work, and does not restart for each scene.

Text The line's full text, with keywords highlighted within it, unless highlighting has been disabled by the user.

1

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Apemantus

222

Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

2

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Timon

230

Thou art proud, Apemantus.

3

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Timon

232

Whither art going?

4

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Poet

256

Art not one?

5

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Apemantus

259

Art not a poet?

6

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Apemantus

272

That I had no angry wit to be a lord.
Art not thou a merchant?

7

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Second Lord

306

Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

8

Timon of Athens
[I, 1]

Apemantus

309

Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

9

Timon of Athens
[I, 2]

Timon

584

I take all and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;
Methinks, 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 pitch'd field.

10

Timon of Athens
[II, 2]

Apemantus

765

There will little learning die then, that day thou
art hanged. This is to Lord Timon; this to
Alcibiades. Go; thou wast born a bastard, and thou't
die a bawd.

11

Timon of Athens
[II, 2]

Timon

910

You gods, reward them!
Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:
Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows;
'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.
[To a Servant]
Go to Ventidius.
[To FLAVIUS]
Prithee, be not sad,
Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak.
No blame belongs to thee.
[To Servant]
Ventidius lately
Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd
Into a great estate: when he was poor,
Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends,
I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from me;
Bid him suppose some good necessity
Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd
With those five talents.
[Exit Servant]
[To FLAVIUS]
That had, give't these fellows
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think,
That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink.

12

Timon of Athens
[III, 1]

Lucullus

977

I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt
spirit—give thee thy due—and one that knows what
belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if
the time use thee well: good parts in thee.
[To Servant]
Get you gone, sirrah.
[Exit Servant]
Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a
bountiful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou
knowest well enough, although thou comest to me,
that this is no time to lend money, especially upon
bare friendship, without security. Here's three
solidares for thee: good boy, wink at me, and say
thou sawest me not. Fare thee well.

13

Timon of Athens
[III, 1]

Lucullus

995

Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.

14

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Alcibiades

1717

What art thou there? speak.

15

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Timon

1718

A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
For showing me again the eyes of man!

16

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Alcibiades

1720

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?

17

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Timon

1746

Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou
wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art
a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for
thou art a man!

18

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Timon

1756

Art thou Timandra?

19

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Apemantus

1927

I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.

20

Timon of Athens
[IV, 3]

Timon

1944

Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment,
That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
To some she beggar and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.