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.

Fla.
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 made you minister
Thus to excuse your self.

Fla.
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,
Though you hear now too late, yet now's a time,
The greatest of your having lacks a half
To pay your present debts.

Tim.
Let all my land be sold.

Fla.
'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, and at length
How goes our reck'ning?

Tim.
To Lacedæmon did my land extend.

Fla.
O my good lord, the world is but a world,
Were it all yours, to give it in a breath
How quickly were it gone?

Tim.
You tell me true.

Fla.
If you suspect my husbandry or falshood,

Call me before th' exactest auditors,
And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me,
&plquo;When all our offices have been opprest
&plquo;With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
&plquo;With drunken spilth of wine; when every room
&plquo;Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsie;
&plquo;I have retir'd me to a ^{a note}lonely room,
&plquo;And set mine eyes at flow.

Tim.
Pr'ythee no more.

Fla.
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; 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 showres,
These flies are coucht.

Tim.
Come, sermon me no further.
No villanous bounty yet hath past my heart;
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
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,
And try the arguments of hearts by borrowing,
Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use,
As I can bid thee speak.

Stew.
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: in my friends I'm wealthy.
Within there, Ho Flaminius, Servilius!

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