Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd
Now to guard fure their master.

And this is all a liberal course allows;

Who cannot keep his wealth, muft keep his house. [Exit.

SCENE changes to Timon's Hall.

Enter Varro, Titus, Hortenfius, Lucius, and other Servants of Timon's Creditors, who wait for his coming out.

Var.

WEI

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 money.

Tit. So is theirs and ours.

Enter Philotas.

Luc. And, Sir, Philotas's too.

Phi, Good day, at once.

Luc. Welcome, good brother. What d'you think the hour?

Phi. I wonder: he was wont to shine at feven.

Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him: You must confider that a prodigal's courfe

Is like the fun's, but not like his recoverable, I fear: 'Tis deepeft 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' observe a strange event:

Your Lord fends now for money.

Hor. True, he does.

Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,

For which I wait for money.

Hor. Against my heart.

Luc. How ftrange it shows,

1

Timon in this fhould pay more than he owes!
And e'en as if your Lord fhould wear rich jewels,
And fend for money for 'em.

Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness:
I know, my Lord hath spent of Timon's wealth,
Ingratitude now makes it worse than ftealth.

Var. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours?
Luc. Five thousand.

Var. 'Tis too much deep, and it should seem by th' fum,
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, fignify 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.

Fla. What do you ask of me, my friend?
Tit. We wait for certain money here, Sir.
Fla. If money were as certain as your waiting,
"Twere fure enough.

Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills,
When your falfe mafters eat of my Lord's meat?
Then they would fmile and fawn upon his debts,
And take down th' intereft in their glutt'nous maws;
You do yourselves but wrong to ftir me up,
Let me pafs quietly :-

Believe't, my Lord and I have made an end,
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
Luc. Ay, but this anfwer will not ferve.

Fla. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not fo bafe as you;

For

*

[Exit.

For ferve knaves. you Var. How! what does his cashier'd worship mutter? Tit. No matter, what, he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no houfe to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.

Enter Servilius.

Tit. Oh, here's Servilius; now we shall have some 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 wond'roufly to difcontent:

His comfortable temper has forfook him,

He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
Luc. Many do keep their chambers, are not fick :
And if he be fo far beyond his health,

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 againft my paffage? Have I been ever free, and muft my houfe

Be my retentive enemy, my goal?

The place, which I have feafted, does it now,

Like all mankind, fhew me an iron heart?

Luc. Put in now, Titus.

Tit. My Lord, here's my bill..

Luc. Here's mine.

Var. And mine, my Lord.

Cap. And ours, my Lord!

Phi. And our bills.

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.

Luc. Five thousand crowns, my Lord.

Tim. Five thousand drops pay that. What 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 money; thefe debts may be well call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

Re-enter Timon and Flavius.

[Exeunt.

Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the flaves. Creditors!-devils.

Flav. My dear Lord,

Tim. What if it fhould be fo?

Flav. My dear Lord,

Tim. Fll have it fo-My fteward!

Flav. Here, my Lord.

Tim. So fitly!-Go, bid all my friends again, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius. All.

I'll once more feaft the rafcals.

Flav. O my Lord!

You only fpeak from your distracted foul;
There's not fo much left as to furnish out
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 changes to the Senate-boufe.

I Sen.

M2

Senators, and Alcibiades.

Y Lord, you have my voice to't, the fault's 'Tis neceffary he should die:

Nothing emboldens fin fo much as mercy.

[bloody;

2 Sen. Moft true; the law fhall bruise 'em. Alc. Health, honour, and compaffion to the fenate! 1 Sen. Now, captain.

Alc.

Alc. I am an humble fuitor to your virtues :
For pity is the virtue of the law,
And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood
Hath ftept into the law, which is paft depth
To thofe that without heed do plunge into't.
He is a man, fetting his fault afide,

Of virtuous honour, which buys out his fault;
Nor did he foil the fact with cowardife,
But with a noble fury, and fair fpirit,
Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
He did oppofe his foe:

And with fuch fober and unnoted paffion
He did behave his anger ere 'twas spent,
As if he had but prov'd an argument.

1 Sen. You undergo too ftrict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:

Your words have took fuch pains, as if they labour'd
To bring man-flaughter into form, fet quarrelling
Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,

Is valour mif-begot, and came into the world
When fects and factions were but newly born.
He's truly valiant, that can wifely fuffer

The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His out-fide, wear them like his raiment, carelefly,
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

To bring it into danger.

If wrongs be evils, and inforce us kill,
What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill?

Alc. My Lord,

1 Sen. You cannot make grofs fins look clear, It is not valour to revenge, but bear.

Alc. My Lords, then, under favour, pardon me, If I fpeak like a captain.

Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threatnings, fleep upon't,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
Without repugnancy? but if there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we

Abroad?