Enter Varro, Titus, Hortenfius, † Lucius, and other fervants of Timon's creditors, who wait for bis coming out.

Var.

WE

ELL met, good morrow, Titus and Hortenfius.

Tit. The like to you, kind Varro.

Hor. Lucius ? what do we meet together?

Luc. And, I think, one business does command us all.

For mine is money.

Tit. So is theirs, and ours.

Enter Philotus.

Luc. And Sir Philotus too.

Phi. Good day at once.

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

Phi. Labouring for nine.

Luc. So much

Phi. Is not my Lord feen yet?

Luc. Not yet.

Phi. I wonder he was wont to fhine at seven.
Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him.
You must confider that (3) a Prodigal's 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

Phi. I am of your fear for that.

yet find little.

Tit. I'll fhew you how t' obferve a strange event. Your Lord fends now for money.

+Lucius is here again for the fervant of Lucius.

(3) - a

Prodigal's courfe

Is like the fun's,] That is, like him in blaze and fpendour.

Soles occidere et redire poffunt.

CATUL.

Hor.

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,

Timon in this should pay more than he owes !
And e'en as if your Lord should 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; And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.

Var. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns; what's yours?

Luc. Five thousand.

Var. 'Tis too much deep, and it fhould feem 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 Steward 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?
Tit. We wait for certain money here, Sir.
Flaw. If money were as certain as your waiting,

"Twere fure enough.

*I'm weary of this charge,] That is, of this commiffion, of this employment.

+ Elfe, furely, bis bad equall'd.] Should it not be, Elje, furely mine bad equall'd.

Why

Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills,
When your falfe mafters eat of my Lord's meat
?
Then they would smile and fawn upon his debts,
And take down th' interest 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 serve.
Flav. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not so base as you;
For you ferve knaves.

[Exit. 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.

(4) Enter Servilius.

Tit. Oh, here's Servilius; now we shall have some anfwer.

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 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.

(4) Enter Servilius.] It may be observed that Shakespeare has u¤❤ kilfully filled his Greek story with Roman names.

VOL. VIII.

C

SCENE

SCENE V.

Enter Timon, in a rage.

Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd against my paffage ?

Have I been ever free, and must my house

Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?

The place, which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, fhew me an iron-heart?

Luc. Put in now, Titus.

Luc. My Lord, here's my bill.
Luc. Here's mine.

Var. And mine, my Lord.

Cath. 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. Five thoufand crowns my Lord. Tim. Five thousand drops pay that. and yours ?

What yours

Var. My Lord

Caph. 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 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.

Flav. My dear Lord,

Tim. What if it should be fo?

Flav. My dear Lord,

Tim. I'll have it fo

Flav. Here, my Lord.

My steward!

Tim. So fitly! Go, bid all my friends again,

Lucius,

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.

I Sen.

SCENE VI.

Changes to the Senate house.

Senators, and Alcibiades.

[Exeunt.

M Y Lord, you have my voice to't. The

fault's bloody;

'Tis neceffary he should die.

Nothing emboldens fin fo much as mercy.

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,

And none but tyrants ufe 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.
(5) He is a man, (6) fetting his fault afide,
Of comely virtues ;

Nor did he foil the fact with cowardife,
An honour in him which buys out his fault,

(5) He is a man, &c.] I have printed thefe lines after the origi nal copy, except that, for an honour, it is there, and bonour. All the latter editions deviate unwarrantably from the original, and give the lines thus:

He is a man, fetting bis fault afide,

Of virtus bonour, which buys out bis fault;

Nor did be fil, &c.

(6) fetting HIS fault afide, We must read,

THIS faul.

C 2

WARBURTON.

But