Tim.
You make me marvel. Wherefore, ere this time,
Had you not fully laid my state before me?

That I might so have rated my expence,
As I had leave of means.

Flav.
You would not hear me;
At many leisures I propos'd.

Tim.
Go to:
Perchance, some single vantages you took,
When my indisposition put you back;
And that unaptness ^{2 note}made your minister
Thus to excuse yourself.

Flav.
O my good Lord!
At many times I brought in my accounts,
Laid them before you; you would throw them off,
And say, you found them in mine honesty.
When, for some trifling Present, you have bid me
Return so much, I've shook my head, and wept;
Yea, 'gainst th' authority of manners, pray'd you
To hold your hand more close. I did endure
Not seldom, nor no slight, checks; when I have
Prompted you in the ebb of your estate,
And your great flow of debts. My dear lov'd Lord,
^{3 note}

Tim.
Let all my land be sold.

Flav.
'Tis all engag'd; some forfeited and gone;
And what remains will hardly stop the mouth
Of present dues; the future comes apace;
What shall defend the interim, ^{4 note}

How goes our reck'ning?

Tim.
To Lacedemon did my land extend.

Flav.
^{5 note}

Tim.
You tell me true.

Flav.
If you suspect my husbandry, or falshood,
Call me before th' exactest Auditors,
And set me on the proof. So the Gods bless me,
When all our Offices have been opprest
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
With drunken spilth of wine; when every room
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy;
I have retir'd me to ^{6 note}

Tim.
Pr'ythee, no more.

Flav.
Heav'ns! have I said, the bounty of this Lord!
How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants

This night englutted! Who now is not Timon's!
What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon's?
Great Timon's, noble, worthy, royal Timon's?
Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise,
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made;
Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter show'rs,
These flies are coucht.

Tim.
Come, sermon me no further.
No villainous bounty yet hath past my heart;
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I giv'n.
Why dost thou weep? canst thou the conscience lack,
To think I shall lack friends? secure thy heart;
If I would broach the vessels of my love,
^{7 note}

Flav.
Assurance bless your thoughts!

Tim.
And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd,
That I account them blessings; for by these
Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you
Mistake my fortunes: I'm wealthy in my friends.
Within there, Ho! Servilius, Flaminius!

Previous section

Next section