Cap.

Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus, let's have some sport with 'em.

Var.

Hang him, he'll abuse us.

Isid.

A plague upon him, dog.

Var.

How dost, fool?

Apem.

Dost dialogue with thy shadow?

Var.

I speak not to thee.

Apem.

No, 'tis to thy self. Come away.

Isid.

There's the fool hangs on your back already.

Apem.

No, thou stand'st single, thou art not on him yet.

Cap.

Where's the fool now?

Apem.

He last ask'd the question. Poor rogues, and usurers men! bawds between gold and want!

All.

What are we, Apemantus?

Apem.

Asses.

All.

Why?

Apem.

That you ask me what you are, and do not know your selves. Speak to 'em, fool.

Fool.

How do you, gentlemen?

All.

Gramercies, good fool: how does your mistress?

Fool.

She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth.

Apem.

Good! gramercy!

Fool.

Look you, here comes my master's page.

Page.

Why how now, captain? what do you in this wise company? how dost thou, Apemantus?

Apem.

Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.

Page.

Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters, I know not which is which.

Apem.

Canst not read?

Page.

No.

Apem.

There will little learning die then, that day thou art hang'd. This is to lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thou'lt die a bawd.

Page.

Thou wast whelpt a dog, and thou shalt famish, a dog's death. Answer not, I am gone.

Apem.
Ev'n so thou out-run'st grace.
Fool, I will go with you to lord Timon's.

Fool.
Will you leave me there?

Apem.
If Timon stay at home—
You three serve three usurers?

All.
I would they serv'd us.

Apem.

So would I—as good a trick as ever hangman serv'd thief.

Fool.

Are you three usurers men?

All.

Ay, fool.

Fool.

I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress is one, and I am her fool; when men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly, and go away merrily; but they enter my master's house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?

Var.

I could render one.

Apem.

Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster, and a knave, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no less esteem'd.

Var.

What is a whore-master, fool?

Fool.

A fool in good cloaths, and something like thee. 'Tis a spirit; sometime it appears like a lord, sometimes like a lawyer, sometimes like a philosopher, with two stones more than's artificial one. He is very often like a knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes up and down in, from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.

Var.

Thou art not altogether a fool.

Fool.

Nor thou altogether a wise man; as much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lack'st.

Apem.

That answer might have become Apemantus.

All.

Aside, aside, here comes lord Timon.