University of Virginia Library

Scen 5a.

Timon Laches Obba Philargurus Gelasimus Pseudocheus Demeas Eutrapelus: Hermogenes Stilpo, Speusippus come awhile after.
Tim:
ffurnish the table sette on dainty cheare
Timon doth bidde his friends their last farewell.

Philar:
Thou wisely dost, it is too late to spare
When all is spent, whom the Gods woulde haue
To liue but poorely let him bee content.

Tim:
What man is hee can wayle the losse of wealthe
Guarded with such a friendly company
Ill thriue my gold, it shall not wring one teare
ffrom these mine eies, nor one sigh from my hearte
My friends sticke close to mee, they will not starte.

Dem:
Is hee madde? wee knew him not this morning
Hath hee soe soone forgotte an iniury?

Now enter Her: Stil: Speu:
Lach:
Putte of fonde feare, why draw yee backe your feete[«?»] and drawe backe.

Herm:
I feare my heade.

Tim:
Much hayle Hermogenes
Saue yee Philosophers.

Speu:
Saue yee said hee?
Such words are better farre than stripes & blowes.

Tim:
Y'are welcome all, spende yee this day in mirthe
Mixe laughter & conceits with this our feaste
And lay aside all graue seueritie.

Stil:

There lie Philosopher. I put of all formalities excentricall & concentricall.
vniuersalities before the thinge, in the thinge, & after the thinge, specifications
categorematicall & syncategorematicall, hæcceities complete
& απλως or incomplete & κατα τι.

Gela:
Ha ha he, hee seemes like a dry heringe.

Tim:
Expecte noe iunketts, or yet dainty fare
What cheare poore Timon hath y'are welcome to.

Phila:
I loue a piece of beefe:

Gela:
I hony sopps

Pseu:
Giue mee a Phænix stew'd in Ambergreece.

Dem:
I loue an Artichoke pie sok'd in marrow.

Eutr:
ffill platters with wine, weele eate it with spoones

Herm:
I pray thee putte a pheasante on the table.

Stil:
I pray thee let not mustard bee wanting

Speu:
Bee mindefull of fatte bacon, I doe loue
To line my choppes well with the greeze thereof

Tim:
Weele wante for nothing, that shall bee my care.
Exit Timon.

Gela:
Philosophers say that mustarde is obnoxious to the memory

Stil.
Mustarde by itselfe is obnoxious to the memory by an accident

Herm:
Heare yee my opinion who am halfe a Philosopher

Eut:
Partly a fidler, partly a foole.

Gela:
Thou art too bitter, peace.

Herm:
Mustarde originally & proximely is obnoxious to the memory
instrumentally & remotely.

Gela:
O ex'lent witty, & beyonde compare
Thou shalt with mee to the Antipodes
If that thou please: this ingenuity
I loue in any man.

Philar:
Art thou resolued on thy iourney?

Gela:
Yes
This morning I haue play'd the Alchymist
Conuerting all my lands to pure golde

Dem:
A Metalepsis of transumption from one thinge to another.

Gela:
Pseudocheus.
How many miles thinke you that wee must goe?

Pseu:
Two thousande 44.

Stil:
What dost thou meane
A number numbering? or numbered?

Pseu:
My eares attende not to these idle trifles
Thou art a trifling Philosopher, peace
Perseus, hee had a winged horse.

Dem:
The Allegory of this fable I perspicuously laid open in an oration
newly penn'd, If you please I will relate it.

Pseud:
Thou Orator care thou for thy Metaphores
Perseus, whats that to thee? the horses name
Was Pegasus:

Gela:
Yes I remember't well.
What was his name saiest thou?

Pseu:
Pegasus.
What if I know where Pegasus is fedde
With oates & hay.

Gela:
O witte worthy of im̄ortalitie

Pseud:
One word's enough for a wise man.
Thou mounted vppon Pegasus shalt fly
The shippe shall carry mee.

Lach:
Let eache man take his place.

Stil:
A place is a superficies concaue.

Speus:
Or convexe of a body ambient

Herm:
True if it bee considered entitatiuely not formally.
Before I leaue I'le make these termes threed bare
Now as I liue, they cost mee twenty pounds.

Eutr:
Some one bring water, these Philosophers
Washt not their vncleane handes this day.

Stil:
A litle inke adhæres in the superficies of my nayle

Speu:
I writte the state of a quæstion this day: Whether the heauens bee made of stones—?

Stil:
It is made of stones stoned, not stoning

Dem:
O Iupiter hee speakes Solæcismes.

Philar:
Where is thy mr?

Lach:
Heele bee here anon
In the meane time sitte downe.

Gela:
Philargurus
Thy hoary haires deserue the highest place.

Enter Timon.
Tim:
O happy mee, equall to Ioue himselfe
I going touche the starres, breake out o Ioy
And smother not thyselfe within my breast
Soe many friends, soe many friends I see
Not one hathe falsifi'de his faith to mee
What if I am opprest with pouertie?
And griefe doth vexe mee? fortune left mee poore?
All this is nothing, they releeue my wants
The one doth promise helpe, another golde
A thirde a friendly welcome to his house
And entertainement, eache man actes his parte
All promise counsaile, & a faithfull hearte.

Gela:
Timon, thou art forgettefull of thy feast

Tim:
Why doe yee not fall to? I am at home
Ile standing suppe, or walking if I please
Laches bring here the Artichokes with speede
Eutrapelus Demeas Hermogenes
I'le drinke this cuppe a healthe to all your healths.

Lach:
Conuerte it into poison oyee Gods
Aside.
Let it bee ratsbane to them.

Gela:
What? wilt thou haue the legge, or els the winge?

Eutr:
Carue yee that Capon:

Dem:
I will cutte him vp
And make a beaste of him.

Philar:
Timon, this healthe to thee:

Tim:
Ile pledge you Sr
These Artichokes doe noe mans pallat please.

Stones painted like to them. & throwes thē at them.
Dem:
I loue them well by Ioue.

Tim:
Here take them then
Nay thou shalt haue them, thou & all of yee
Yee wicked base perfidious rascalls
Thinke yee my hate's soe soone extinguished?

Dem:
O my heade:

Herm:
O my cheekes.

Timon beates Herm: aboue all the reste
Philar:
Is this a feaste?

Gela:
Truly a stony one

Sti«l.»
Stones sublunary haue the same matter wth the heauenly.

Tim:
If I Ioues horridde thunderbolte did holde
Within my hande, thus, thus would I darte it.

Hee hitts Herm:
Herm:
Woe & alas my braines are dashed out.

Gela:
Alas, alas twill neuer bee my happe
To trauaile now to the Antipodes
Ah, that I had my Pegasus but here
I'de fly away by Ioue.

Exeunt.
Tim:
Yee are a stony generation
Or harder, if ought harder may bee founde
Monsters of Scythia Inhospitall
Nay very diuells hatefull to the Gods.

Lach:
Mr they are gone.

Tim:
The pox goe with them
And whatsoe're the horridde sounding sea
Or earthe produces, whatsoe're accur'sd
Lurks in the house of silent Erebus
Let it (o) let it all sprawle forth, here, here
Cocytus flowe[«s»] & yee blacke foords of Styx
Here barke thou Cerberus, & here yee troopes
Of cursed furies skake your fi'ry brands
Earth's worse than hell, let hell chaunge place with earth
And Plutoes Regiment bee next the Sunne.

Lach:
Will this thy fury neuer bee appeas'd?

Tim:
Neuer, neuer it it will burne for euer
It pleases mee to hate, goe Timon goe
Banishe thyselfe from mans society
ffarther than hell fly this inhumane City
If there bee any exile to bee had
Exit Timon.
There will I hide my heade.

Lach:
Ile follow thee through sword through fire & deathe
If thou goe to the ghosts I'le bee thy page
And lacky thee to the pale house of hell
Thy misery shall make my faith excell.
Exit Laches.