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.


Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laide my state before me, That I might so haue rated my expence As 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 minister Thus 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 me Returne so much, I haue shooke my head, and wept: Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close: I did indure Not sildome, nor no slight checkes, when I haue Prompted 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 mouth Of present dues; the future comes apace: What shall defend the interim, and at length How 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 opprest With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept With drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roome Hath 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 Pezants This 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 vse As 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 these Shall I trie Friends. You shall perceiue How you mistake my Fortunes: I am wealthie in my Friends. Within there, Flauius, Seruilius? Enter three Seruants.

Ser. My Lord, my Lord

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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