Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words,Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death:And heere he writes, that he did buy a poysonOf a poore Pothecarie, and therewithallCame to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet.Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Mountague,See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate,That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue;And I, for winking at your discords too,Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd
Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,This is my Daughters ioynture, for no moreCan I demand
Moun. But I can giue thee more:For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold,That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,There shall no figure at that Rate be set,As that of True and Faithfull Iuliet
Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his Lady ly,Poore sacrifices of our enmity
Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head;Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things,Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished.For neuer was a Storie of more Wo,Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo.
Exeunt. omnes
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET
The Life of Timon of Athens
Enter Poet, Painter, Ieweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at seuerall doores.
Poet. Good day Sir
Pain. I am glad y'are well
Poet. I haue not seene you long, how goesthe World?Pain. It weares sir, as it growes
Poet. I that's well knowne:But what particular Rarity? What strange,Which manifold record not matches: seeMagicke of Bounty, all these spirits thy powerHath coniur'd to attend.I know the Merchant
Pain. I know them both: th' others a Ieweller
Mer. O 'tis a worthy Lord
Iew. Nay that's most fixt
Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were,To an vntyreable and continuate goodnesse:He passes
Iew. I haue a Iewell heere
Mer. O pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir?Iewel. If he will touch the estimate. But for that-Poet. When we for recompence haue prais'd the vild,It staines the glory in that happy Verse,Which aptly sings the good
Mer. 'Tis a good forme
Iewel. And rich: heere is a Water looke ye
Pain. You are rapt sir, in some worke, some Dedicationto the great Lord
Poet. A thing slipt idlely from me.Our Poesie is as a Gowne, which vsesFrom whence 'tis nourisht: the fire i'th' FlintShewes not, till it be strooke: our gentle flameProuokes it selfe, and like the currant flyesEach bound it chases. What haue you there?Pain. A Picture sir: when comes your Booke forth?Poet. Vpon the heeles of my presentment sir.Let's see your peece
Pain. 'Tis a good Peece
Poet. So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent
Pain. Indifferent
Poet. Admirable: How this graceSpeakes his owne standing: what a mentall powerThis eye shootes forth? How bigge imaginationMoues in this Lip, to th' dumbnesse of the gesture,One might interpret
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life:Heere is a touch: Is't good?Poet. I will say of it,It Tutors Nature, Artificiall strifeLiues in these toutches, liuelier then life.Enter certaine Senators.
Pain. How this Lord is followed
Poet. The Senators of Athens, happy men
Pain. Looke moe
Po. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors,I haue in this rough worke, shap'd out a manWhom this beneath world doth embrace and huggeWith amplest entertainment: My free driftHalts not particularly, but moues it selfeIn a wide Sea of wax, no leuell'd maliceInfects one comma in the course I hold,But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on,Leauing no Tract behinde
Pain. How shall I vnderstand you?Poet. I will vnboult to you.You see how all Conditions, how all Mindes,As well of glib and slipp'ry Creatures, asOf Graue and austere qualitie, tender downeTheir seruices to Lord Timon: his large Fortune,Vpon his good and gracious Nature hanging,Subdues and properties to his loue and tendanceAll sorts of hearts; yea, from the glasse-fac'd FlattererTo Apemantus, that few things loues betterThen to abhorre himselfe; euen hee drops downeThe knee before him, and returnes in peaceMost rich in Timons nod
Pain. I saw them speake together
Poet. Sir, I haue vpon a high and pleasant hillFeign'd Fortune to be thron'd.The Base o'th' MountIs rank'd with all deserts, all kinde of NaturesThat labour on the bosome of this Sphere,To propagate their states; among'st them all,Whose eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt,One do I personate of Lord Timons frame,Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her,Whose present grace, to present slaues and seruantsTranslates his Riuals
Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scopeThis Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkesWith one man becken'd from the rest below,Bowing his head against the sleepy MountTo climbe his happinesse, would be well exprestIn our Condition
Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on:All those which were his Fellowes but of late,Some better then his valew; on the momentFollow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance,Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare,Make Sacred euen his styrrop, and through himDrinke the free Ayre
Pain. I marry, what of these?Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of moodSpurnes downe her late beloued; all his DependantsWhich labour'd after him to the Mountaines top,Euen on their knees and hand, let him sit downe,Not one accompanying his declining foot
Pain. Tis common:A thousand morall Paintings I can shew,That shall demonstrate these quicke blowes of Fortunes,More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well,To shew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue seeneThe foot aboue the head.Trumpets sound.
Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.
Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt,His meanes most short, his Creditors most straite:Your Honourable Letter he desiresTo those haue shut him vp, which failing,Periods his comfort
Tim. Noble Ventidius, well:I am not of that Feather, to shake offMy Friend when he must neede me. I do know himA Gentleman, that well deserues a helpe,Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him
Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him
Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome,And being enfranchized bid him come to me;'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp,But to support him after. Fare you well
Mes. All happinesse to your Honor.Enter.
Enter an old Athenian.
Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake
Tim. Freely good Father
Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius
Tim. I haue so: What of him?Oldm. Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee
Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius
Luc. Heere at your Lordships seruice
Oldm. This Fellow heere, L[ord]. Timon, this thy Creature,By night frequents my house. I am a manThat from my first haue beene inclin'd to thrift,And my estate deserues an Heyre more rais'd,Then one which holds a Trencher
Tim. Well: what further?Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin else,On whom I may conferre what I haue got:The Maid is faire, a'th' youngest for a Bride,And I haue bred her at my deerest costIn Qualities of the best. This man of thineAttempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord)Ioyne with me to forbid him her resort,My selfe haue spoke in vaine
Tim. The man is honest
Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon,His honesty rewards him in it selfe,It must not beare my Daughter
Tim. Does she loue him?Oldm. She is yong and apt:Our owne precedent passions do instruct vsWhat leuities in youth
Tim. Loue you the Maid?Luc. I my good Lord, and she accepts of it
Oldm. If in her Marriage my consent be missing,I call the Gods to witnesse, I will chooseMine heyre from forth the Beggers of the world,And dispossesse her all
Tim. How shall she be endowed,If she be mated with an equall Husband?Oldm. Three Talents on the present; in future, all
Tim. This Gentleman of mineHath seru'd me long:To build his Fortune, I will straine a little,For 'tis a Bond in men. Giue him thy Daughter,What you bestow, in him Ile counterpoize,And make him weigh with her
Oldm. Most Noble Lord,Pawne me to this your Honour, she is his
Tim. My hand to thee,Mine Honour on my promise
Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordship, neuer mayThat state or Fortune fall into my keeping,Which is not owed to you.
Exit
Poet. Vouchsafe my Labour,And long liue your Lordship
Tim. I thanke you, you shall heare from me anon:Go not away. What haue you there, my Friend?Pain. A peece of Painting, which I do beseechYour Lordship to accept
Tim. Painting is welcome.The Painting is almost the Naturall man:For since Dishonor Traffickes with mans Nature,He is but out-side: These Pensil'd Figures areEuen such as they giue out. I like your worke,And you shall finde I like it; Waite attendanceTill you heare further from me
Pain. The Gods preserue ye
Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand.We must needs dine together: sir your IewellHath suffered vnder praise
Iewel. What my Lord, dispraise?Tim. A meere saciety of Commendations,If I should pay you for't as 'tis extold,It would vnclew me quite
Iewel. My Lord, 'tis ratedAs those which sell would giue: but you well know,Things of like valew differing in the Owners,Are prized by their Masters. Beleeu't deere Lord,You mend the Iewell by the wearing it
Tim. Well mock'd.Enter Apermantus.
Mer. No my good Lord, he speakes y common toongWhich all men speake with him
Tim. Looke who comes heere, will you be chid?Iewel. Wee'l beare with your Lordship
Mer. Hee'l spare none
Tim. Good morrow to thee,Gentle Apermantus
Ape. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow.When thou art Timons dogge, and these Knaues honest
Tim. Why dost thou call them Knaues, thou know'stthem not?Ape. Are they not Athenians?Tim. Yes
Ape. Then I repent not
Iew. You know me, Apemantus?Ape. Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy name
Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus?Ape. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like TimonTim. Whether art going?Ape. To knocke out an honest Athenians braines
Tim. That's a deed thou't dye for
Ape. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law
Tim. How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus?Ape. The best, for the innocence
Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it
Ape. He wrought better that made the Painter, and yet he's but a filthy peece of worke
Pain. Y'are a Dogge
Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if Ibe a Dogge?Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus?Ape. No: I eate not Lords
Tim. And thou should'st, thoud'st anger Ladies
Ape. O they eate Lords;So they come by great bellies
Tim. That's a lasciuious apprehension
Ape. So, thou apprehend'st it,Take it for thy labour
Tim. How dost thou like this Iewell, Apemantus?Ape. Not so well as plain-dealing, which wil not casta man a Doit
Tim. What dost thou thinke 'tis worth?Ape. Not worth my thinking.How now Poet?Poet. How now Philosopher?Ape. Thou lyest
Poet. Art not one?Ape. Yes
Poet. Then I lye not
Ape. Art not a Poet?Poet. Yes
Ape. Then thou lyest: Looke in thy last worke, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy Fellow
Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so
Ape. Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He that loues to be flattered, is worthy o'th flatterer. Heauens, that I were a Lord
Tim. What wouldst do then Apemantus?Ape. E'ne as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord withmy heart
Tim. What thy selfe?Ape. I
Tim. Wherefore?Ape. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.Art not thou a Merchant?Mer. I Apemantus
Ape. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not
Mer. If Trafficke do it, the Gods do it
Ape. Traffickes thy God, & thy God confound thee.
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
Tim. What Trumpets that?Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty HorseAll of Companionship
Tim. Pray entertaine them, giue them guide to vs.You must needs dine with me: go not you henceTill I haue thankt you: when dinners doneShew me this peece, I am ioyfull of your sights.Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome Sir
Ape. So, so; their Aches contract, and sterue your supple ioynts: that there should bee small loue amongest these sweet Knaues, and all this Curtesie. The straine of mans bred out into Baboon and Monkey
Alc. Sir, you haue sau'd my longing, and I feedMost hungerly on your sight
Tim. Right welcome Sir:Ere we depart, wee'l share a bounteous timeIn different pleasures.Pray you let vs in.
Exeunt.
Enter two Lords.
1.Lord What time a day is't Apemantus? Ape. Time to be honest
1 That time serues still
Ape. The most accursed thou that still omitst it
2 Thou art going to Lord Timons Feast
Ape. I, to see meate fill Knaues, and Wine heat fooles
2 Farthee well, farthee well
Ape. Thou art a Foole to bid me farewell twice
2 Why Apemantus?Ape. Should'st haue kept one to thy selfe, for I meaneto giue thee none
1 Hang thy selfe
Ape. No I will do nothing at thy bidding:Make thy requests to thy Friend
2 Away vnpeaceable Dogge,Or Ile spurne thee hence
Ape. I will flye like a dogge, the heeles a'th' Asse
1 Hee's opposite to humanity.Come shall we in,And taste Lord Timons bountie: he out-goesThe verie heart of kindnesse
2 He powres it out: Plutus the God of GoldIs but his Steward: no meede but he repayesSeuen-fold aboue it selfe: No guift to him,But breeds the giuer a returne: exceedingAll vse of quittance
1 The Noblest minde he carries,That euer gouern'd man
2 Long may he liue in Fortunes. Shall we in?Ile keepe you Company.
Exeunt.
Hoboyes Playing lowd Musicke. A great Banquet seru'd in: and then, Enter Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which Timon redeem'd from prison. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus discontentedly like himselfe.
Ventig. Most honoured Timon,It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember my Fathers age,And call him to long peace:He is gone happy, and has left me rich:Then, as in gratefull Vertue I am boundTo your free heart, I do returne those TalentsDoubled with thankes and seruice, from whose helpeI deriu'd libertie
Tim. O by no meanes,Honest Ventigius: You mistake my loue,I gaue it freely euer, and ther's noneCan truely say he giues, if he receiues:If our betters play at that game, we must not dareTo imitate them: faults that are rich are faire
Vint. A Noble spirit
Tim. Nay my Lords, Ceremony was but deuis'd at firstTo set a glosse on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,Recanting goodnesse, sorry ere 'tis showne:But where there is true friendship, there needs none.Pray sit, more welcome are ye to my Fortunes,Then my Fortunes to me
1.Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it
Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not?Timo. O Apermantus, you are welcome
Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome:I come to haue thee thrust me out of doores
Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour thereDoes not become a man, 'tis much too blame:They say my Lords, Ira furor breuis est,But yond man is verie angrie.Go, let him haue a Table by himselfe:For he does neither affect companie,Nor is he fit for't indeed
Aper. Let me stay at thine apperill Timon,I come to obserue, I giue thee warning on't
Tim. I take no heede of thee: Th'art an Athenian, therefore welcome: I my selfe would haue no power, prythee let my meate make thee silent
Aper. I scorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I should nere flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not? It greeues me to see so many dip there meate in one mans blood, and all the madnesse is, he cheeres them vp too. I wonder men dare trust themselues with men. Me thinks they should enuite them without kniues, Good for there meate, and safer for their liues. There's much example for't, the fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a diuided draught: is the readiest man to kill him. 'Tas beene proued, if I were a huge man I should feare to drinke at meales, least they should spie my wind-pipes dangerous noates, great men should drinke with harnesse on their throates
Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round
2.Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord
Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes histides well, those healths will make thee and thy statelooke ill, Timon.Heere's that which is too weake to be a sinner,Honest water, which nere left man i'th' mire:This and my food are equals, there's no ods,Feasts are to proud to giue thanks to the Gods.
Apermantus Grace.
Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe,I pray for no man but my selfe,Graunt I may neuer proue so fond,To trust man on his Oath or Bond.Or a Harlot for her weeping,Or a Dogge that seemes asleeping,Or a keeper with my freedome,Or my friends if I should need 'em.Amen. So fall too't:Richmen sin, and I eat root.Much good dich thy good heart, ApermantusTim. Captaine,Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now
Alci. My heart is euer at your seruice, my Lord
Tim. You had rather be at a breakefast of Enemies,then a dinner of Friends
Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's nomeat like 'em, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast
Aper. Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemiesthen, that then thou might'st kill 'em: & bid me to 'em
1.Lord. Might we but haue that happinesse my Lord, that you would once vse our hearts, whereby we might expresse some part of our zeales, we should thinke our selues for euer perfect
Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods themselues haue prouided that I shall haue much helpe from you: how had you beene my Friends else. Why haue you that charitable title from thousands? Did not you chiefely belong to my heart? I haue told more of you to my selfe, then you can with modestie speake in your owne behalfe. And thus farre I confirme you. Oh you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any Friends; if we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the most needlesse Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vse for 'em? And would most resemble sweete Instruments hung vp in Cases, that keepes there sounds to themselues. Why I haue often wisht my selfe poorer, that I might come neerer to you: we are borne to do benefits. And what better or properer can we call our owne, then the riches of our Friends? Oh what a pretious comfort 'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, e'ne made away er't can be borne: mine eies cannot hold out water me thinks to forget their Faults. I drinke to you
Aper. Thou weep'st to make them drinke, Timon
2.Lord. Ioy had the like conception in our eies, And at that instant, like a babe sprung vp
Aper. Ho, ho: I laugh to thinke that babe a bastard
3.Lord. I promise you my Lord you mou'd me much
Aper. Much.
Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, with Lutes in their hands, dauncing and playing.
Tim. What meanes that Trumpe? How now?Enter Seruant.
Ser. Please you my Lord, there are certaine LadiesMost desirous of admittance
Tim. Ladies? what are their wils?Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner my Lord,which beares that office, to signifie their pleasures
Tim. I pray let them be admitted.Enter Cupid with the Maske of Ladies.
Cup. 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. There tast, touch all, pleas'd from thy Table rise: They onely now come but to Feast thine eies
Timo. They'r welcome all, let 'em haue kind admittance.Musicke make their welcome
Luc. You see my Lord, how ample y'are belou'd
Aper. Hoyday,What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way.They daunce? They are madwomen,Like Madnesse is the glory of this life,As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote.We make our selues Fooles, to disport our selues,And spend our Flatteries, to drinke those men,Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agenWith poysonous Spight and Enuy.Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues;Who dyes, that beares not one spurne to their grauesOf their Friends guift:I should feare, those that dance before me now,Would one day stampe vpon me: 'Tas bene done,Men shut their doores against a setting Sunne.
The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to shew their loues, each single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a loftie straine or two to the Hoboyes, and cease.
Tim. You haue done our pleasuresMuch grace (faire Ladies)Set a faire fashion on our entertainment,Which was not halfe so beautifull, and kinde:You haue added worth vntoo't, and luster,And entertain'd me with mine owne deuice.I am to thanke you for't
1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the best
Aper. Faith for the worst is filthy, and would not holdtaking, I doubt me
Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you,Please you to dispose your selues
All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.
Exeunt.
Tim. Flauius
Fla. My Lord
Tim. The little Casket bring me hither
Fla. Yes, my Lord. More Iewels yet?There is no crossing him in's humor,Else I should tell him well, yfaith I should;When all's spent, hee'ld be crost then, and he could:'Tis pitty Bounty had not eyes behinde,That man might ne're be wretched for his minde.Enter.
1 Lord. Where be our men?Ser. Heere my Lord, in readinesse
2 Lord. Our Horses
Tim. O my Friends:I haue one word to say to you: Looke you, my good L[ord].I must intreat you honour me so much,As to aduance this Iewell, accept it, and weare it,Kinde my Lord
1 Lord. I am so farre already in your guifts
All. So are we all.Enter a Seruant.
Ser. My Lord, there are certaine Nobles of the Senatenewly alighted, and come to visit you
Tim. They are fairely welcome.Enter Flauius.
Fla. I beseech your Honor, vouchsafe me a word, itdoes concerne you neere
Tim. Neere? why then another time Ile heare thee.I prythee let's be prouided to shew them entertainment
Fla. I scarse know how.Enter another Seruant.
Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius(Out of his free loue) hath presented to youFoure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer
Tim. I shall accept them fairely: let the PresentsBe worthily entertain'd.Enter a third Seruant.
How now? What newes? 3.Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman Lord Lucullus, entreats your companie to morrow, to hunt with him, and ha's sent your Honour two brace of Grey-hounds
Tim. Ile hunt with him,And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward
Fla. What will this come to?He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, andall out of an empty Coffer:Nor will he know his Purse, or yeeld me this,To shew him what a Begger his heart is,Being of no power to make his wishes good.His promises flye so beyond his state,That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word:He is so kinde, that he now payes interest for't;His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I wereGently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out:Happier is he that has no friend to feede,Then such that do e'ne Enemies exceede.I bleed inwardly for my Lord.
Exit
Tim. You do your selues much wrong,You bate too much of your owne merits.Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue
2.Lord. With more then common thankesI will receyue it
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 visitationsSo 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 liuingIs mong'st the dead: and all the Lands thou hastLye 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
Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights
1.Lord. The best of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes Keepe with you Lord Timon
Tim. Ready for his Friends.
Exeunt. Lords
Aper. What a coiles heere, seruing of beckes, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the summes that are giuen for 'em. Friendships full of dregges, Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue sound legges. Thus honest Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtsies
Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen)I would be good to thee
Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there would be none left to raile vpon thee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giu'st so long Timon (I feare me) thou wilt giue away thy selfe in paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pompes, and Vaine-glories? Tim. Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I am sworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Musicke.
Exit
Aper. So: Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou shaltnot then. Ile locke thy heauen from thee:Oh that mens eares should beTo Counsell deafe, but not to Flatterie.
Exit
Enter a Senator.
Sen. And late fiue thousand: to Varro and to IsidoreHe owes nine thousand, besides my former summe,Which makes it fiue and twenty. Still in motionOf raging waste? It cannot hold, it will not.If I want Gold, steale but a beggers Dogge,And giue it Timon, why the Dogge coines Gold.If I would sell my Horse, and buy twenty moeBetter then he; why giue my Horse to Timon.Aske nothing, giue it him, it Foles me straightAnd able Horses: No Porter at his gate,But rather one that smiles, and still inuitesAll that passe by. It cannot hold, no reasonCan sound his state in safety. Caphis hoa,Caphis I say.Enter Caphis.
Ca. Heere sir, what is your pleasure
Sen. Get on your cloake, & hast you to Lord Timon,Importune him for my Moneyes, be not ceastWith slight deniall; nor then silenc'd, whenCommend me to your Master, and the CapPlayes in the right hand, thus: but tell him,My Vses cry to me; I must serue my turneOut of mine owne, his dayes and times are past,And my reliances on his fracted datesHaue smit my credit. I loue, and honour him,But must not breake my backe, to heale his finger.Immediate are my needs, and my releefeMust not be tost and turn'd to me in words,But finde supply immediate. Get you gone,Put on a most importunate aspect,A visage of demand: for I do feareWhen euery Feather stickes in his owne wing,Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,Which flashes now a Phoenix, get you gone
Ca. I go sir
Sen. I go sir?Take the Bonds along with you,And haue the dates in. Come
Ca. I will Sir
Sen. Go.
Exeunt.
Enter Steward, with many billes in his hand.
Stew. No care, no stop, so senselesse of expence,That he will neither know how to maintaine it,Nor cease his flow of Riot. Takes no accomptHow things go from him, nor resume no careOf what is to continue: neuer minde,Was to be so vnwise, to be so kinde.What shall be done, he will not heare, till feele:I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting.Fye, fie, fie, fie.Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro.
Cap. Good euen Varro: what, you come for money?Var. Is't not your businesse too?Cap. It is, and yours too, Isidore?Isid. It is so
Cap. Would we were all discharg'd
Var. I feare it,Cap. Heere comes the Lord.Enter Timon, and his Traine
Tim. So soone as dinners done, wee'l forth againeMy Alcibiades. With me, what is your will?Cap. My Lord, heere is a note of certaine dues
Tim. Dues? whence are you?Cap. Of Athens heere, my Lord
Tim. Go to my Steward
Cap. Please it your Lordship, he hath put me offTo the succession of new dayes this moneth:My Master is awak'd by great Occasion,To call vpon his owne, and humbly prayes you,That with your other Noble parts, you'l suite,In giuing him his right
Tim. Mine honest Friend,I prythee but repaire to me next morning
Cap. Nay, good my Lord
Tim. Containe thy selfe, good Friend
Var. One Varroes seruant, my good Lord
Isid. From Isidore, he humbly prayes your speedy payment
Cap. If you did know my Lord, my Masters wants
Var. 'Twas due on forfeyture my Lord, sixe weekes,and past
Isi. Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and IAm sent expressely to your Lordship
Tim. Giue me breath:I do beseech you good my Lords keepe on,Ile waite vpon you instantly. Come hither: pray youHow goes the world, that I am thus encountredWith clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds,And the detention of long since due debtsAgainst my Honor?Stew. Please you Gentlemen,The time is vnagreeable to this businesse:Your importunacie cease, till after dinner,That I may make his Lordship vnderstandWherefore you are not paid
Tim. Do so my Friends, see them well entertain'd
Stew. Pray draw neere.Enter.
Enter Apemantus and Foole.
Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the Foole with Apemantus, let's ha some sport with 'em
Var. Hang him, hee'l abuse vs
Isid. A plague vpon him dogge
Var. How dost Foole?Ape. Dost Dialogue with thy shadow?Var. I speake not to thee
Ape. No 'tis to thy selfe. Come away
Isi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already
Ape. No thou stand'st single, th'art not on him yet
Cap. Where's the Foole now?Ape. He last ask'd the question. Poore Rogues, andVsurers men, Bauds betweene Gold and want
Al. What are we Apemantus?Ape. Asses
All. Why?Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not knowyour selues. Speake to 'em Foole
Foole. How do you Gentlemen?All. Gramercies good Foole:How does your Mistris?Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to scal'd such Chickensas you are. Would we could see you at Corinth
Ape. Good, Gramercy.Enter Page.
Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page
Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in thiswise Company.How dost thou Apermantus?Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I mightanswer thee profitably
Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the superscriptionof these Letters, I know not which is which
Ape. Canst not read?Page. No
Ape. There will litle Learning dye then that day thou art hang'd. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go thou was't borne a Bastard, and thou't dye a Bawd
Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt famish a Dogges death. Answer not, I am gone.
Exit
Ape. E'ne so thou out-runst Grace,Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons
Foole. Will you leaue me there?Ape. If Timon stay at home.You three serue three Vsurers?All. I would they seru'd vs
Ape. So would I:As good a tricke as euer Hangman seru'd Theefe
Foole. Are you three Vsurers men?All. I Foole
Foole. I thinke no Vsurer, but ha's a Foole to his Seruant. My Mistris is one, and I am her Foole: when men come to borrow of your Masters, they approach sadly, and go away merry: but they enter my Masters house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this? Var. I could render one
Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster, and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no lesse esteemed
Varro. What is a Whoremaster Foole? Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and something like thee. 'Tis a spirit, sometime t' appeares like a Lord, somtime like a Lawyer, sometime like a Philosopher, with two stones moe then's artificiall one. Hee is verie often like a Knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes vp and downe in, from fourescore to thirteen, this spirit walkes in
Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole
Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wise man,As much foolerie as I haue, so much wit thou lack'st
Ape. That answer might haue become Apemantus
All. Aside, aside, heere comes Lord Timon.Enter Timon and Steward.
Ape. Come with me (Foole) come
Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, elder Brother,and Woman, sometime the Philosopher
Stew. Pray you walke neere,Ile speake with you anon.
Exeunt.
Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this timeHad you not fully laide my state before me,That I might so haue rated my expenceAs I had leaue of meanes
Stew. You would not heare me:At many leysures I propose
Tim. Go too:Perchance some single vantages you tooke,When my indisposition put you backe,And that vnaptnesse made your ministerThus to excuse your selfe
Stew. O my good Lord,At many times I brought in my accompts,Laid them before you, you would throw them off,And say you sound them in mine honestie,When for some trifling present you haue bid meReturne so much, I haue shooke my head, and wept:Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd youTo hold your hand more close: I did indureNot sildome, nor no slight checkes, when I hauePrompted you in the ebbe of your estate,And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord,Though you heare now (too late) yet nowes a time,The greatest of your hauing, lackes a halfe,To pay your present debts
Tim. Let all my Land be sold
Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeyted and gone,And what remaines will hardly stop the mouthOf present dues; the future comes apace:What shall defend the interim, and at lengthHow goes our reck'ning?Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend
Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word,Were it all yours, to giue it in a breath,How quickely were it gone
Tim. You tell me true
Stew. If you suspect my Husbandry or Falshood,Call me before th' exactest Auditors,And set me on the proofe. So the Gods blesse me,When all our Offices haue beene opprestWith riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue weptWith drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roomeHath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsie,I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull cocke,And set mine eyes at flow
Tim. Prythee no more
Stew. Heauens, haue I said, the bounty of this Lord:How many prodigall bits haue Slaues and PezantsThis night englutted: who is not Timons,What heart, head, sword, force, meanes, but is L[ord]. 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. Come sermon me no further.No villanous bounty yet hath past my heart;Vnwisely, not ignobly haue I giuen.Why dost thou weepe, canst thou the conscience lacke,To thinke I shall lacke friends: secure thy heart,If I would broach the vessels of my loue,And try the argument of hearts, by borrowing,Men, and mens fortunes could I frankely vseAs I can bid thee speake
Ste. Assurance blesse your thoughts
Tim. And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd,That I account them blessings. For by theseShall I trie Friends. You shall perceiueHow you mistake my Fortunes:I am wealthie in my Friends.Within there, Flauius, Seruilius?Enter three Seruants.
Ser. My Lord, my Lord
Tim. I will dispatch you seuerally. You to Lord Lucius, to Lord Lucullus you, I hunted with his Honor to day; you to Sempronius; commend me to their loues; and I am proud say, that my occasions haue found time to vse 'em toward a supply of mony: let the request be fifty Talents
Flam. As you haue said, my Lord
Stew. Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh
Tim. Go you sir to the Senators;Of whom, euen to the States best health; I haueDeseru'd this Hearing: bid 'em send o'th' instantA thousand Talents to me
Ste. I haue beene bold(For that I knew it the most generall way)To them, to vse your Signet, and your Name,But they do shake their heads, and I am heereNo richer in returne
Tim. Is't true? Can't be?Stew. They answer in a ioynt and corporate voice,That now they are at fall, want Treasure cannotDo what they would, are sorrie: you are Honourable,But yet they could haue wisht, they know not,Something hath beene amisse; a Noble NatureMay catch a wrench; would all were well; tis pitty,And so intending other serious matters,After distastefull lookes; and these hard FractionsWith certaine halfe-caps, and cold mouing nods,They froze me into Silence
Tim. You Gods reward them:Prythee man looke cheerely. These old FellowesHaue their ingratitude in them Hereditary:Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it sildome flowes,'Tis lacke of kindely warmth, they are not kinde;And Nature, as it growes againe toward earth,Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and heauy.Go to Ventiddius (prythee be not sad,Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speake,No blame belongs to thee:) Ventiddius latelyBuried his Father, by whose death hee's stepp'dInto a great estate: When he was poore,Imprison'd, and in scarsitie of Friends,I cleer'd him with fiue Talents: Greet him from me,Bid him suppose, some good necessityTouches his Friend, which craues to be remembredWith those fiue Talents; that had, giue't these FellowesTo whom 'tis instant due. Neu'r speake, or thinke,That Timons fortunes 'mong his Friends can sinke
Stew. I would I could not thinke it:That thought is Bounties Foe;Being free it selfe, it thinkes all others so.
Exeunt.
Flaminius waiting to speake with a Lord from his Master, enters a seruant to him.
Ser. I haue told my Lord of you, he is comming downto you
Flam. I thanke you Sir.Enter Lucullus.
Ser. Heere's my Lord
Luc. One of Lord Timons men? A Guift I warrant. Why this hits right: I dreampt of a Siluer Bason & Ewre to night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are verie respectiuely welcome sir. Fill me some Wine. And how does that Honourable, Compleate, Free-hearted Gentleman of Athens, thy very bountifull good Lord and Mayster? Flam. His health is well sir
Luc. I am right glad that his health is well sir: and what hast thou there vnder thy Cloake, pretty Flaminius? Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box Sir, which in my Lords behalfe, I come to intreat your Honor to supply: who hauing great and instant occasion to vse fiftie Talents, hath sent to your Lordship to furnish him: nothing doubting your present assistance therein
Luc. La, la, la, la: Nothing doubting sayes hee? Alas good Lord, a Noble Gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha din'd with him, and told him on't, and come againe to supper to him of purpose, to haue him spend lesse, and yet he wold embrace no counsell, take no warning by my comming, euery man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha told him on't, but I could nere get him from't. Enter Seruant with Wine.
Ser. Please your Lordship, heere is the Wine
Luc. Flaminius, I haue noted thee alwayes wise.Heere's to thee
Flam. Your Lordship speakes your pleasure
Luc. I haue obserued thee alwayes for a towardlie prompt spirit, giue thee thy due, and one that knowes what belongs to reason; and canst vse the time wel, if the time vse thee well. Good parts in thee; get you gone sirrah. Draw neerer honest Flaminius. Thy Lords a bountifull Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough (although thou com'st to me) that this is no time to lend money, especially vpon bare friendshippe without securitie. Here's three Solidares for thee, good Boy winke at me, and say thou saw'st mee not. Fare thee well
Flam. Is't possible the world should so much differ,And we aliue that liued? Fly damned basenesseTo him that worships thee
Luc. Ha? Now I see thou art a Foole, and fit for thyMaster.
Exit L[ucullus].
Flam. May these adde to the number y may scald thee:Let moulten Coine be thy damnation,Thou disease of a friend, and not himselfe:Has friendship such a faint and milkie heart,It turnes in lesse then two nights? O you Gods!I feele my Masters passion. This Slaue vnto his Honor,Has my Lords meate in him:Why should it thriue, and turne to Nutriment,When he is turn'd to poyson?O may Diseases onely worke vpon't:And when he's sicke to death, let not that part of NatureWhich my Lord payd for, be of any powerTo expell sicknesse, but prolong his hower.Enter.
Enter Lucius, with three strangers.
Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an Honourable Gentleman
1 We know him for no lesse, thogh we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing my Lord, and which I heare from common rumours, now Lord Timons happie howres are done and past, and his estate shrinkes from him
Lucius. Fye no, doe not beleeue it: hee cannot want for money
2 But beleeue you this my Lord, that not long agoe, one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so many Talents, nay vrg'd extreamly for't, and shewed what necessity belong'd too't, and yet was deny'de
Luci. How? 2 I tell you, deny'de my Lord
Luci. What a strange case was that? Now before the Gods I am asham'd on't. Denied that honourable man? There was verie little Honour shew'd in't. For my owne part, I must needes confesse, I haue receyued some small kindnesses from him, as Money, Plate, Iewels, and such like Trifles; nothing comparing to his: yet had hee mistooke him, and sent to me, I should ne're haue denied his Occasion so many Talents. Enter Seruilius.
Seruil. See, by good hap yonders my Lord, I haue swet to see his Honor. My Honor'd Lord
Lucil. Seruilius? You are kindely met sir. Farthewell, commend me to thy Honourable vertuous Lord, my very exquisite Friend
Seruil. May it please your Honour, my Lord hath sent- Luci. Ha? what ha's he sent? I am so much endeered to that Lord; hee's euer sending: how shall I thank him think'st thou? And what has he sent now? Seruil. Has onely sent his present Occasion now my Lord: requesting your Lordship to supply his instant vse with so many Talents
Lucil. I know his Lordship is but merry with me,He cannot want fifty fiue hundred Talents
Seruil. But in the mean time he wants lesse my Lord.If his occasion were not vertuous,I should not vrge it halfe so faithfully
Luc. Dost thou speake seriously Seruilius?Seruil. Vpon my soule 'tis true Sir
Luci. What a wicked Beast was I to disfurnish my self against such a good time, when I might ha shewn my selfe Honourable? How vnluckily it hapned, that I shold Purchase the day before for a little part, and vndo a great deale of Honour? Seruilius, now before the Gods I am not able to do (the more beast I say) I was sending to vse Lord Timon my selfe, these Gentlemen can witnesse; but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done't now. Commend me bountifully to his good Lordship, and I hope his Honor will conceiue the fairest of mee, because I haue no power to be kinde. And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions say, that I cannot pleasure such an Honourable Gentleman. Good Seruilius, will you befriend mee so farre, as to vse mine owne words to him? Ser. Yes sir, I shall.
Exit Seruil[ius].
Lucil. Ile looke you out a good turne Seruilius.True as you said, Timon is shrunke indeede,And he that's once deny'de, will hardly speede.Enter.
1 Do you obserue this Hostilius?2 I, to well
1 Why this is the worlds soule,And iust of the same peeceIs euery Flatterers sport: who can call him his FriendThat dips in the same dish? For in my knowingTimon has bin this Lords Father,And kept his credit with his purse:Supported his estate, nay Timons moneyHas paid his men their wages. He ne're drinkes,But Timons Siluer treads vpon his Lip,And yet, oh see the monstrousnesse of man,When he lookes out in an vngratefull shape;He does deny him (in respect of his)What charitable men affoord to Beggers
3 Religion grones at it
1 For mine owne part, I neuer tasted Timon in my lifeNor came any of his bounties ouer me,To marke me for his Friend. Yet I protest,For his right Noble minde, illustrious Vertue,And Honourable Carriage,Had his necessity made vse of me,I would haue put my wealth into Donation,And the best halfe should haue return'd to him,So much I loue his heart: But I perceiue,Men must learne now with pitty to dispence,For Policy sits aboue Conscience.
Exeunt.
Enter a third seruant with Sempronius, another of Timons Friends.
Semp. Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum.'Boue all others?He might haue tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus,And now Ventidgius is wealthy too,Whom he redeem'd from prison. All theseOwes their estates vnto him
Ser. My Lord,They haue all bin touch'd, and found Base-Mettle,For they haue all denied him
Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him?Has Ventidgius and Lucullus deny'de him,And does he send to me? Three? Humh?It shewes but little loue, or iudgement in him.Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends (like Physitians)Thriue, giue him ouer: Must I take th' Cure vpon me?Has much disgrac'd me in't, I'me angry at him,That might haue knowne my place. I see no sense for't,But his Occasions might haue wooed me first:For in my conscience, I was the first manThat ere receiued guift from him.And does he thinke so backwardly of me now,That Ile requite it last? No:So it may proue an Argument of LaughterTo th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Foole:I'de rather then the worth of thrice the summe,Had sent to me first, but for my mindes sake:I'de such a courage to do him good. But now returne,And with their faint reply, this answer ioyne;Who bates mine Honor, shall not know my Coyne.
Exit
Ser. Excellent: Your Lordships a goodly Villain: the diuell knew not what he did, when hee made man Politicke; he crossed himselfe by't: and I cannot thinke, but in the end, the Villanies of man will set him cleere. How fairely this Lord striues to appeare foule? Takes Vertuous Copies to be wicked: like those, that vnder hotte ardent zeale, would set whole Realmes on fire, of such a nature is his politike loue. This was my Lords best hope, now all are fled Saue onely the Gods. Now his Friends are dead, Doores that were ne're acquainted with their Wards Many a bounteous yeere, must be imploy'd Now to guard sure their Master: And this is all a liberall course allowes, Who cannot keepe his wealth, must keep his house. Enter.
Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to wait for his comming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius.
Var.man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & HortensiusTit. The like to you kinde Varro
Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together?Luci. I, and I think one businesse do's command vs all.For mine is money
Tit. So is theirs, and ours.Enter Philotus.
Luci. And sir Philotus too
Phil. Good day at once
Luci. Welcome good Brother.What do you thinke the houre?Phil. Labouring for Nine
Luci. So much?Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet?Luci. Not yet
Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen
Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him:You must consider, that a Prodigall courseIs like the Sunnes, but not like his recouerable, I feare:'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that is: Onemay reach deepe enough, and yet finde little
Phil. I am of your feare, for that
Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent:Your Lord sends now for Money?Hort. Most true, he doe's
Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift,For which I waite for money
Hort. It is against my heart
Luci. Marke how strange it showes,Timon in this, should pay more then he owes:And e'ne as if your Lord should weare rich Iewels,And send for money for 'em
Hort. I'me weary of this Charge,The Gods can witnesse:I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth,And now Ingratitude, makes it worse then stealth
Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes:What's yours?Luci. Fiue thousand mine
Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sumYour Masters confidence was aboue mine,Else surely his had equall'd.Enter Flaminius.
Tit. One of Lord Timons men
Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readieto come forth?Flam. No, indeed he is not
Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much
Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent.Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.
Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so?He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him
Tit. Do you heare, sir?2.Varro. By your leaue, sir
Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend
Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir
Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting,'Twere sure enough.Why then preferr'd you not your summes and BillesWhen your false Masters eate of my Lords meat?Then they could smile, and fawne vpon his debts.And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes.You do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp,Let me passe quietly:Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end,I haue no more to reckon, he to spend
Luci. I, but this answer will not serue
Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you,For you serue Knaues
1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship mutter? 2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge enough. Who can speake broader, then hee that has no house to put his head in? Such may rayle against great buildings. Enter Seruilius.
Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some answere
Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre some other houre, I should deriue much from't. For tak't of my soule, my Lord leanes wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's much out of health, and keepes his Chamber
Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke:And if it be so farre beyond his health,Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts,And make a cleere way to the Gods
Seruil. Good Gods
Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir
Flaminius within. Seruilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord.Enter Timon in a rage.
Tim. What, are my dores oppos'd against my passage?Haue I bin euer free, and must my houseBe my retentiue Enemy? My Gaole?The place which I haue Feasted, does it now(Like all Mankinde) shew me an Iron heart?Luci. Put in now Titus
Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill
Luci. Here's mine
1.Var. And mine, my Lord
2.Var. And ours, my Lord
Philo. All our Billes
Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to theGirdle
Luc. Alas, my Lord
Tim. Cut my heart in summes
Tit. Mine, fifty Talents
Tim. Tell out my blood
Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord
Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that.What yours? and yours?1.Var. My Lord
2.Var. My Lord
Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.
Exit Timon.
Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their caps at their money, these debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.
Exeunt.
Enter Timon.
Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the slaues. Creditors? Diuels
Stew. My deere Lord
Tim. What if it should be so?Stew. My Lord
Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward?Stew. Heere my Lord
Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe,Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All,Ile once more feast the Rascals
Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted soule; there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate Table
Tim. Be it not in thy care:Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tideOf Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide.