Phi. I wonder he was wont to fhine at seven. Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him: You must confider that a Prodigal's Course 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 Phi. I am of your fear for that. Tit. I'll fhew you how t' obferve a ftrange event: 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. Against my heart. Luc. How ftrange it shows, Timon in this fhould pay more than he owes! 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 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 master'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. He Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled. Luc. Ha! is not that his Steward muffled fo? Tir. Tit. Do you hear, Sir- Var. By your leave, Sir. Fla. What do you ask of me, my friend? Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills, Believe't, my lord and I have made an end; poor, and that's revenge [Exit. Var. How! what does his cashier'd worship mutter? Tit. No matter, what he's 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 wondrously to discontent : His comfortable temper has forfook him, He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber. Methinks, he fhould the fooner pay his debts, Ser. Good Gods! Tit. We cannot take this for an answer. Flam. [within.] Servilius, help-my lord! my lord. Enter Enter Timon, in a rage. Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd againft my paffage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my goal? The place, which I have feafted, does it now, 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. Five thoufand crowns, my lord. Tim. Five thousand drops pay that. -and yours? What 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. Re-enter Timon and Flavius. [Exeunt. Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the flaves. Creditors! devils. I'll once more feast the rascals. Fla. O my lord! You only speak from your distracted foul; 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. 1 Sen. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Senate-house. MY Senators, and Alcibiades. 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 'em. Alc. Health, Honour, and Compaffion to the senate! Alc. I am an humble fuitor to your Virtues: And none but Tyrants ufe it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Of virtuous honour, which buys out his fault; And with fuch fober and unnoted paffion 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 To bring Man-flaughter into form, fet quarrelling The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His out-fides; wear them like his rayment, careleЛly; And ne'er prefer his Injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils, and inforce us kill, 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, Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, Who cannot condemn Rafhnefs in cold blood? But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. To be in anger is impiety: But who is man, that is not angry? 2 Sen. You breathe in vain. 1 Sen. What's that? Ale. I fay, my lords, h'as done fair fervice, And flain in battle many of your enemies; G 3 How |