University of Virginia Library

The Seconde Scene.

Philargurus Callimela Blatte.
Philarg:
What? shall I suffer such corruption
Of manners in my sonne? S'deathe hee shall feele
His fathers fury. what? doe I arise
Carefull before the crowing of the cocke?
And scorne noe gayne, no not from the dunghill?
That when I die my sonne may bee left riche
Ile rather hide my treasure in the earthe
Where neither Sunne or Moone or humane eies.
Enter Laches.
Hath euer peepte.

Lac.
Saue you Philargurus

Philarg.
What wouldst thou haue? bee briefe or els bee gone.

Lach:
My master wishes all the gods thy friendes

Philarg:
I all of them his foes whoere hee bee
Is this thy arrand?

Lach:
Y'are too cholericke
I come a ioyfull messenger to thee
Timon doth loue thy daughter feruently
Will take her without dowry if you please.
What say you? hee hath also sent these gem̄es
To make accesse to Callimelas loue.

Philar:
O happy mee. will Timon take saist thou
My daughter without dowry?

Lach:
Soe it is

Philarg:
Callimela?

Callim:
What's your pleasure father?

Philar:
Venus doth fauour thee aboue the rest
A seconde person doth desire thy loue
A golden youthe: reiecte Gelasimus
This is farre richer, and thee Callimele
Will take without a dowry.

Callim:
Who doth possesse most golde shall mee possesse
Let womans loue bee neuer permanent.

Lach:
Timon doth consecrate these costly gem̄es
Vnto the altars of thy beauty.

Callim:
I take his gem̄es & send him backe my loue
Let that bee like a gemme.

Blat:
A liberall youngman I doe proteste
That to his sweete hearte sends such costly giftes
What colour is his bearde?

Callim:
Peace olde dotarde

Blat:
Olde dotarde? why olde dotarde? I haue yet
Two teethe left, see. what are my kisses dry?
Try souldier, or goe I with a staffe?
Or am I eighty yeares of age? why then
Call you mee old dotard?

Callim:
Peace I recante
Thou shalt bee my girle.

Blat:
Yes, I am a girle.

Callim:
Tell Timon I am his.

Lach:
Timon is blest.
How well doe beauty & milde loue accorde.

Philarg:
Without a dowry, that, remember that.

Lach:
I speake the truthe.

Philarg:
Grunnio make broathe of these two fishes.

(two spratts or the like)
Lach:
Soe are my masters goods consum'd this way
Exeunt Philarg. Callim. Blat. Grun:
Will bring him to the house of pouerty
O loue conuert him leaste hee feele to soone
To much the rodde of desp'rate misery
Before his chests bee emptied which hee
Had lefte by his forefathers fill'd with golde
Well howsoeuer fortune play her parte
Laches from Timon neuer shall departe.
Exit Laches.