[Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of]
[p]LUCIUS, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, and other
[p]Servants of TIMON's creditors, waiting his coming out]
- First Servant. Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.
- Titus. The like to you kind Varro.
- Hortensius. Lucius!
What, do we meet together?
One business does command us all; for mine Is money.
- Titus. So is theirs and ours.
- Philotus. Good day at once.
What do you think the hour?
- Philotus. Labouring for nine.
- Philotus. Is not my lord seen yet?
- Philotus. I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.
You must consider that a prodigal course
Is like the sun'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
- Philotus. I am of your fear for that.
- Titus. I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
Your lord sends now for money.
- Hortensius. Most true, he does.
- Titus. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
For which I wait for money.
- Hortensius. It is against my heart.
Timon in this should pay more than he owes:
And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels,
And send for money for 'em.
- Hortensius. 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.
- First Servant. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours?
- First Servant. 'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sun,
Your master's confidence was above mine;
Else, surely, his had equall'd.
- Titus. One of Lord Timon's men.
- Flaminius. No, indeed, he is not.
- Titus. We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much.
- Flaminius. I need not tell him that; he knows you are too diligent.
[Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled]
[p]He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.
- Second Servant. By your leave, sir,—
- Flavius. What do ye ask of me, my friend?
- Titus. We wait for certain money here, sir.
- Flavius. Ay,
If money were as certain as your waiting,
'Twere sure enough.
Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills,
When your false masters eat of my lord's meat?
Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts
And take down the interest into their
You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up;
Let me pass quietly:
Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end;
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
- Flavius. If 'twill not serve,'tis not so base as you;
For you serve knaves.
- First Servant. How! what does his cashiered worship mutter?
- Second Servant. No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge
enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no
house to put his head in? such may rail against
- Titus. O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer.
- Servilius. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some
other hour, I should derive much from't; for,
take't of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to
discontent: his comfortable temper has forsook him;
he's much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
And, if it be so far beyond his health,
Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts,
And make a clear way to the gods.
- Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir.
- Flaminius. [Within] Servilius, help! My lord! my lord!
[Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following]
- Timon. What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
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, show me an iron heart?
- Titus. My lord, here is my bill.
- Hortensius. And mine, my lord.
- Timon. Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.
- Timon. Cut my heart in sums.
- Titus. Mine, fifty talents.
- Timon. Tell out my blood.
- Timon. Five thousand drops pays that.
What yours?—and yours?
- Second Servant. My lord,—
- Timon. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!
- Hortensius. 'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps
at their money: these debts may well be called
desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.
[Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS]
- Timon. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves.
- Flavius. My dear lord,—
- Timon. What if it should be so?
- Timon. I'll have it so. My steward!
- Timon. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius:
All, sirrah, all:
I'll once more feast the rascals.
- Flavius. O my lord,
You only speak from your distracted soul;
There is not so much left, to furnish out
A moderate table.
- Timon. Be't not in thy care; go,
I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide
Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.