And this is all a liberal course allows; Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house. [Exit. Enter Varro, Titus, Hortenfius, Lucius, and other Servants of Timon's Creditors, who wait for his coming out.. Var. WE ELL met, good-morrow, Titus and Hortenfius. Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. Hor. Lucius, why do we meet together? Luc. I think one bufinefs does command us all. For mine is mony. Tit. So is theirs and ours. Enter Philotas. Luc. And Sir Philotas's too. Phi. Good day at once. [hour? Luc. Welcome, good brother. What d' you think the Phi. Labouring for nine. Luc. So much? Phi. Is not my Lord Seen yet? Luc. Not yet. Phi. I wonder: he was wont To fhine at feven. Luc. Ay, but now the days Are waxed fhorter with him: you must confider 'That fuch a prodigal courfe is like the fun's, But not like his recoverable, I fear: 'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse; That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet Find little. Phi. I am of your fear for that. Tit. I'll fhew you how t' obferve a strange event: Your Your Lord fends now for mony. Hor. True, he does. Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, For which I wait for mony. Hor. Againft my heart. Tit. How ftrange it fhews, Timon in this fhould pay More than he owes! and e'en as if your Lord Should wear rich jewels and fend for mony for 'em. Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the Gods can witnefs: I know my Lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, Ingratitude now makes it worfe than stealth, Var. Yes, mine's three thoufand crowns: what's yours? Luc. Five thoufand. [th' fum, Var. 'Tis 'much too deep, and it fhould feem by Your mafter's confidence was above mine, Elfe furely his had equall'd. Enter Flaminius. Tit. One of Lord Timon's men. Luc. Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray is my Lord Ready to come forth? Flam. No, indeed he is not. Tit. We attend his Lordship'; pray fignifie fo much. Flam. I need not tell him that, he knows you are Too diligent. Enter Flavius in a cloak muffled. Luc. Ha! is not that his fteward muffled fo? He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. Tit. Do you hear, Sir - Var. By your leave, Sir. Flav. What do you ask of me, my friend? Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills, C 4 Then 9 too much his debts, Then they would smile and fawn upon Believe't, my Lord and I have made an end, [Exit. Var. How! what does his cashier'd Worship mutter? Tit. No matter what enough. Who can fpeak houfe to put his head in? buildings. he's poor, and that's revenge broader than he that has no fuch may rail against great Enter Servilius. Ser. Oh, here's Servilius; now we fhall have fome answer. Ser. If I might befeech you, gentlemen, to repair fome other hour, I fhould derive much from it. For take it of my foul, My Lord leans wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forfook him, He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber.' Methinks he should the fooner pay his debts, And make a clear way to the Gods. Ser. Good Gods! Tit. We cannot take this for an answer. Flam. [Within.] Servilius, help!-my Lord, my Lord! Enter Timon in a rage. Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd against my paffage? Have I been ever free, and muft my house Be my retentive enemy, my goal? The The place which I have feafted, does it now Tit. My Lord, here's my bill. Var. And mine, my Lord. Cap. And ours, my Lord. Tim. Knock me down with 'em-cleave me to the girdle. Luc. Alas, my Lord. Tim. Cut out my heart in fums. Tit. Mine, fifty talents. Tim. Tell out my blood. Luc. Five thoufand crowns, my Lord. Tim. Five thousand drops pay that. 'What's yours and yours? Var. My Lord Cap. My Lord Tim. Here, tear me, take me, and the Gods fall on you! [Exit. Hor. 'Faith, I perceive our mafters may throw their caps at their mony; these debts may be well call'd defperate ones, for a mad man owes 'em. [Exeunt. Re-enter Timon and Flavius. Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the flaves. Creditors!-devils. my friends again, Tim. So fitly! Go, bid all Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius. All- Flav. O my Lord! You only fpeak from your distracted foul; I What A A moderate table. Tim. Be it not thy care: Go, and invite them all, let in the tide Of knaves once more: my cook and I'll provide. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. The Senate-house. Senators, and Alcibiades. 1 Sen. MY Lord, you have my voice to't, the fault's 'Tis neceffary he should die : [bloody; Nothing emboldens fin fo much as mercy. 2 2 Sen. Moft true; the law fhall bruife him.` Alc. Health, honour, and compaffion to the fenate! 1 Sen. Now, captain. Alc. I am an humble fuitor to your virtues, For pity is the virtue of the law, 3 And none but tyrants ufe it cruelly: And with fuch fober and unnoted paffion I Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox, Te 2 'em 3 his fault 4 his |