Part 14

Luci. Welcome good Brother. What do you thinke the houre? Phil. Labouring for Nine

Luci. So much? Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet? Luci. Not yet

Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen

Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him: You must consider, that a Prodigall course Is like the Sunnes, but not like his recouerable, I feare: 'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that is: One may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little

Phil. I am of your feare, for that

Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent: Your Lord sends now for Money? Hort. Most true, he doe's

Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift, For which I waite for money

Hort. It is against my heart

Luci. Marke how strange it showes, Timon in this, should pay more then he owes: And e'ne as if your Lord should weare rich Iewels, And send for money for 'em

Hort. I'me weary of this Charge, The Gods can witnesse: I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth, And now Ingratitude, makes it worse then stealth

Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes: What's yours? Luci. Fiue thousand mine

Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sum Your Masters confidence was aboue mine, Else surely his had equall'd. Enter Flaminius.

Tit. One of Lord Timons men

Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readie to come forth? Flam. No, indeed he is not

Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much

Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent. Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.

Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so? He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him

Tit. Do you heare, sir? 2.Varro. By your leaue, sir

Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend

Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir

Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting, 'Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not your summes and Billes When your false Masters eate of my Lords meat? Then they could smile, and fawne vpon his debts. And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes. You do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp, Let me passe quietly: Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end, I haue no more to reckon, he to spend

Luci. I, but this answer will not serue

Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you, For you serue Knaues

1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship mutter? 2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge enough. Who can speake broader, then hee that has no house to put his head in? Such may rayle against great buildings. Enter Seruilius.

Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some answere

Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre some other houre, I should deriue much from't. For tak't of my soule, my Lord leanes wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's much out of health, and keepes his Chamber

Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke: And if it be so farre beyond his health, Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a cleere way to the Gods

Seruil. Good Gods