| Original text | Modern text | Key line |
| May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius | May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, | Tim I.ii.180 |
| (Out of his free loue) hath presented to you | Out of his free love, hath presented to you | Tim I.ii.181 |
| Foure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer. | Four milk-white horses, trapped in silver. | Tim I.ii.182 |
| | | |
| As we do turne our backes | As we do turn our backs | Tim IV.ii.8.2 |
| From our Companion, throwne into his graue, | From our companion thrown into his grave, | Tim IV.ii.9 |
| So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes | So his familiars to his buried fortunes | Tim IV.ii.10 |
| Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him | Slink all away, leave their false vows with him, | Tim IV.ii.11 |
| Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe | Like empty purses picked. And his poor self, | Tim IV.ii.12 |
| A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre, | A dedicated beggar to the air, | Tim IV.ii.13 |
| With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, | With his disease of all-shunned poverty, | Tim IV.ii.14 |
| Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes. | Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows. | Tim IV.ii.15 |