University of Virginia Library

The thirde Acte

the first Scene.

Enter Lollio Timon Hermogenes Eutrapelus aduancing his flaggon Gelasimus Pseudocheus Demeas.
Loll.
Display the flagge-on where are those Troians?
What doe they hide their heades?

Tim:
Why dost thou reele Achilles to and fro[?]
Like to a Shippe that's tossed with the waues?

Gela:
The foure windes doe Bussle in my heade
A tempest greate is risen in my braines.

Eutr:
I thinke the shippe that carrieth thy witte
Will suffer shippewracke.

Dem:
A metaphore worthy of my table booke.

Loll:
When Corineus fought with Gogmagog
And greate Alcides slewe a puppie-dogge.

Gela:
H'st these same dores haue done a greate offence

Herm:
What?

Gela:
They did creake ha ha he how lik'st thou my conceite?

Herm:
See see Gelasimus how braue I am

Ent: Grun:
Good gods whom doe I see? What? Lollio
My masters sonne?

Loll:
Grunnio art thou here?
Thou wast not here at first.

Grun.
Art in thy witts

Loll:
Thou knowest not who I am Grunnio.

Grun:
Why? thou art Lollio.

Loll:
Why laughe yee not?

Gela:
Must wee laughe? ha ha he
What stratageme is to bee effected?

Loll:
This calls mee Lollio, I Achilles
Or otherwise am called Pelides
Μηνιν αειδε θεα Πηληαδω Αχιληος

Pseu.
So speake the Tingitans that inhabitte
The mountaines of Squilmagia.

Dem:
A curious parenthesis.

Grun:
Art not thou Lollio, & hold'st the ploughe?
Didst thou not cutte mee out this very morne
A portion of cheese when I wast sent
To call thee to thy sisters marriage.

Loll:
I Lollio? I holde the ploughe? I cutte?
What? did I cutte thee out this very morne
A portion of cheese when thou wast sent
To call mee to my sisters marriage?

Dem:
Anaphora or a repetition.

Loll:
I yee to witnes call my[«e»] Mirmidones
What say yee?

All:
He'es Achilles, Achilles.

Grun:
O miracle. Callimela, Blatte
Come hither. Lollio is Achilles. Enter Callimela & Blatte


Blatt:
O mee what tumulte is before my dores?

Gela:
My lady mistris Calimele my Queene
Withdraw not backe your feete

Blat:
Saue yee youngmen. What i'st that yee would haue?

Loll:
Yee Myrmidons beholde olde Hecuba
What? shall wee stone her?

Gela:
My fellowe soulders this shall bee my wife
Is shee not faire? how does my Calimele?

Eutr:
Looke in her vrinall & thou shalt knowe.

Callim:
Let mee bee gone, I doe not loue to bee
A laughing stocke.

Gela:
Sweete loue bee not angry
Vppon the mountaine Paphlagonia
There is a stone.

Call:
In Athenes Cittie, is an arrant foole

Gela:
Thats call'd.

Callim:
Gelasimus

Loll:
Why binde yee not olde Hecuba that bitche?

Blat:
I olde Hecuba? I'me Blatte the nurse
What ayles the drunken foole?

Eutr:
Timon why are your eies fixt on the grounde?

Tim:
I feele a wounde.

Eutr:
O Iupiter forbidde.

Tim.
Eutrapelus, this is not in Ioues pow're
I subiecte am to Venus tyranny.
These eyes betraide my hearte, these were the gate
And onely way where loue first entred in
I saw & lou'd, & must my loue enioye

Eutr:
What sodaine metamorphosis is this?

Tim:
I loue, extreamely loue.

Eutr:
What? Callimele

Tim:
The very same.

Loll.
My sparrowe, my marrowe my sowe
My hony, my cony, my cowe
Achilles is adry a litle more ale
This house doth seeme to walke what haue they feete?
Enter Philarg: at another dore.
Or doth it ride on horsebacke? Grunnio
Am I not in the cloudes:

Blat:
Hence Callimele
Philargurus thy father is at hande.

Exeunt Callimela & Blatte.
Tim:
I nothing see, my eies haue loste their light.

Philarg:
What company is this before my dores?
O mee accurs'd my hidden golde is founde
What shall I doe? I am vndone, vndone
Why hange I not myselfe? woe and alas
I to to longe haue liu'd who must bee forct
To ende my daies in pouertie, yee theeues
Yee theeues what seeke yee here?

Eutr:
Lollio thy father.

Loll:
My father hange himselfe I'me Achilles
I haue this day three thousand Troians slayne.

Philar:
Yee theeues restore what yee haue tane away

Tim:
Olde man bee patient.

Philar:
Ile binde yee hande & foote in iron chaines
Runne Grunnio call for the peoples helpe.

Loll:
Thou olde outworne worme eaten Animal.
What wouldst thou haue? I am greate Achilles
Vnles thou kill mee i'th heele Achilles
Will nere bee slaine.

Philarg:
Lord, lord what a strange madnes may this bee?

Gela:
ffeare not Philargurus, thou hast noe cause
I am thy sonne in lawe all things are safe
Noe man hath toucht the threshold of thy house

Philarg:
O but my sonne is madde.

Loll:
Hast not thou nappy ale? if thou deny
My Myrmidons shall ruinate thy house.

Philar:
To ploughe thou slaue, that I would haue thee doe
Gelasimus withdraw these youngmen hence
I am afraide & tremble every ioynte
Leaste they finde out my golde.

Herm:
Giue mee my cloke Achilles, it is colde

Eutr:
To bedde & sleepe.

Dem:
This birde hath lost his borrowed feathers.

Loll.
I pray yee also o my Myrmidons
Pull of my doublette: Ile goe sleepe awhile.

All:
Goodnight, braue generall farewell.

Loll:
This flaggon shall serue mee for a pillow.

Philar:
Thou drunken knaue, I'le wake thee with this staffe

Loll:
Hector oppresse mee not while I doe sleepe
Ile presently arise to fighte.

Philar.
Beare him in Grunnio, hath wine subdu'de
Thy heade & feete at once?

Loll:
Prithee Obba, one cuppe, but one cuppe more

Philar:
Thou art drunke thou theefe.

Loll:
Thou li'st thou rascall.
Where art Agamemnon? helpe Achilles.

Exeunt.

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.

The thirde Scene of the thirde Acte.

Eutrapelus, Gelasimus, Pseudocheus Pædio.
Eutr:
What is become of all thy wonted mirthe?
Thy odde conceites and smiles? plucke vp thy hearte
Dost thou forgette what must bee done next monthe?
Thou shalt the scepter 'mong the Pigmies sway.

Gela:
Bee gone, I am melancholy by Ioue.

Pseud:
What ayleth thee?

Gela:
I will not tell if Ioue himselfe should aske.

Eutr:
Wee'le helpe thee.

Pseud.
If any thinge can helpe thee that doth growe
Vppon the mountaines of Armenia.
In Dacia or Tingitania.
Or in the Mediterranean sea
It shall bee had forthwith, why speak'st thou not?

Gela:
Ther'es noe helpe founde for this my malady
No not beneathe th'Antipodes themselues.
Leaue mee vnto myselfe, I by myselfe
Will walke the woods alone.

Eutr.
Wilt thou not suppe?

Gela:
Nor suppe nor dine.

Pseud:
What? art thou soe peruerse?
And wilt not tell the cause of this thy griefe?

Eutr:
Vrge him no more hee of his owne accorde
Will vtter all vnask'd.

Gela:
Soe the Gods loue mee. I doe nothing see
That this fonde foolishe girle can blame in mee.
I am not redde hair'd and I am noe dwarfe
What then can shee dislike? are my palmes dry?
Am I not a gentleman by descent?
Am I not riche enough? what man is there
Liues in all Athenes richer than myselfe?
Am I a foole? my braines how ere they are
I knowe them well: I am noe foole or asse
Well bee it soe. Vse thy will Callimele
Despise mee & reiecte mee.

Pseud:
What is this?

Eutr:
Hee feares leaste hee hath lou'd in vaine, this day
Hee sawe some iewells sent to Callimele
Timon is his corriuall.

Gela:
Well, cast mee of I say, allure entice
To thee thy Timon, Iuno giue successe
To these your nuptialls, yet vnreueng'd
I will not let it passe Gelasimus
Hath both a sworde & hande can wielde his sworde.

Eutr:
What will hee challenge Callimele to fight?

Gela:
To wake a sleeping lyon what it is
I'le make thee knowe, I'le meditate reuenge
Worthy myselfe. to morrow arm'd wth shielde
I will prouoke thee to encounter mee.

Pseud:
O valiant Champion. this Theseus
Did when hee conquered Hipolita.

Eutr:
Gelasimus, but heare Gelasimus
Suppose that Callimela in a rage
Come with a drawne sworde threatening thy deathe?

Gela:
Thou saiest very well these women are
A pestiferous kinde of Animals.
'Twere safer fighting with an hoste of men
Therefore for mee let her enioy her loue.

Pseud:
ffie cowarde fie, fearest thou womans strength?
While I was last among the Amazons [I]
I slewe two thousande women at one time

Gela:

Eutr:
What dost thou meane to doe?
Wilt doe thyselfe a mischiefe? Omphale
Brake with a slipper Hercules owne heade

Gela:
Stay Pædio stay stay though I am stronge
I am not yet soe stronge as Hercules
I will not fighte by Ioue.

Eutr:
What do'st thou grieue at Callimelas losse?
Who worthy art of Venus to thy wife

Pæd:
To make him a cornuted Mulciber.

Pseud:
Gelasimus wilt that I seeke thee out
A princely wife? then sayle along with mee
To th'Antipodes, there the Kings daughter
Shall bee in loue with thee at the first sighte
If I but say the worde.

Gela:
Now as I liue this is most admirable. ha ha he
How this reioices mee?

Eutr:
O foolisher than foolishnes itselfe

Gela:
I Callimele? I scorne her I by Ioue
I prithee tell mee where's the woodden horse
That may transporte vs to th'Antipodes?

Pseud:
As yet hee is in th'Ionian sea
I expecte his comming euery day.

Gela:
Ha ha he.
The Kings owne daughter of th'Antipodes?
Ha ha he.
Ioye soe abounds I doe not knowe myselfe
Daughter of th'Antipodes? at first sighte?

Eutr:
Yes, if hee but say the worde.

Pæd:
My master doth excell Democritus
Hee hath a spleene more petulant by farre

Gela:
Goe Pædio to Pyræum, inquire
If any shippe hath there arriu'd this day
ffrom the Ionian sea: the meane while
In mirthe at home wee will the time beguile.

Exeunt.

The fourthe scene.

Enter Obba & the musitians. Obba bringing a baskette of flowers.
Obb:
Yee fidlers follow mee, there take your place
If that your throates are dry Ile liquour them.
Ile straw these flowers on the ground, this day
My master must bee married, if I
Bee not well tipled before euening
I Obba ne're will drinke καθ' ολον more.
Enter Grunnio.
O Ioue what doe I see? Vse ghosts to walke
Before our dores? whose spirit art thou? speake
I thee adiure by Proserpinaes heade
By Acheron, by Styx & Phlegeton
And by the dismall boate that Charon rowes
By triple-headed Cerberus, by—.

Grun:
Lord, Obba.
What meanest thou by this? dost thou not knowe
Leane macilente Grunnio?

Obb:
I verily did take thee for some sp'rite
Thou lookst like an Anatomy, mee thinks
The winde shoulde whirle thee vp into the ayre.

Grun:
That I preuente by wearing leaden soles

Obb:
By Ioue thou art transparent, if I stande
Behinde thy backe I can see through thy nose.

Grun:
Tho see'st what tis to liue on browne breade crusts
To drinke deade vineger & lodge in straw.

Obb:
Ha, ha, he.
I am almoste dissolu'd into laughter
Art not thou famines sonne?

Grun:
I rather thinke
ffamine to bee my sonne, mee her mother
These tenne months I haue borne her in my wombe
And hope to bee deliuered this feaste.

Obb:
What doth Philargurus at home.

Grun:

Obb:
Why soe?

Grun:
Least in his sleepe he lose parte of his breathe

Ob.
O thrifty man.

Gru:
Wilt suffer mee after the feaste is done
To licke the greazy platters?

Obb:
Ile fill thy paunche full, neuer feare thy guttes.

Enter Philar.
Grun:
I see my master comming. Obba where
Where shall I hide mee? what? in the buttry?

Obb:
ffollow mee.

Grun:
O how my teethe doe water.

Scena quinta.

Enter Timon Callimela Philargurus Gelasimus Hermogenes Pseudocheus Eutrapelus Demeas Laches Blatte.
Tim:
Soe I embrace thee in my armes who art
My life & light.

Callim:
O how such sweete embraces I desire
Who without thee am neither life nor light.

Gela:
Shee sees not mee as yet, if once shee did
I know shee would put finger in the eye.

Calli:
Thou art my Titan, I thy Cynthia
ffrom thy bright beames my beauty is deriu'd

Gela:
Can the Kings daughter of th'Antipodes
Speake soe compleately?

Pseud:
Shee hath a parrot
Can speake more elegantly.

Gela:
That is well.

Tim:
My life why doe wee thus delay the time?
Ile plight to thee my trothe in Pallas temple
Art thou well pleas'd with this my hony?

Calli:
What pleases Timon cannot mee displease

Phila:
Timon thou hast a wife morigerous
Shee is the onely comfort of my age.

Lach:
Thou li'st, thou thinkest thy gold a sweeter

(Aside.)
Dem.

Let it bee lawfull for mee (most honorable not onerable paire) awhile
to reteyne & deteyne ligate & obligate your eares with my words
neither aspersed or inspersed with the flore or rore of eloquence, yee
are both like in nature, & in nurture alike in Genius & both alike
ingenuous. What Timon refuses Callimela refuses, what Callimela
wills Timon also wills, soe that Callimela may not bee but Timons
Callimela, and Timon but Callimelas Timon.

Eutr.
Holde thou thy peace thou pratling orator
Hence with thy tropes: let's hie to the temple
Hermogenes out of thy greazy throate
Sing vs some sweete Epithalamion.

Lach:
Heele croke it like a frogge I knowe, I feare
Least this extrauagant singing fidler
Hath quite forgotte his arte.

Herm:
I sing among the people? I? what I?
Is not Hermogenes a noble? my page
Shall acte my parte: if hee sing not a song
Of sweeter harmony than Orpheus
I neuer more will sattin breeches weare.

The Musicians playe and Hermogenes page sings.

All.
Hymen o Hymen Hymenæus Hymen.
Let Hymens ioyfull saffron weede
Assiste them alwaies at their neede

All:
Hymen o Hymen Hymenæus Hymen.
Let Phœbus hide his light
And day bee turn'd to night
That the new bride now may
The bridegroomes flames allay
Let Cupid straw loue flowres
Venus augment love houres

All:
Hymen o Hymen Hymenæus Hymen.
Let Hymens ioyfull saffron weede
Assiste them alwaies at their neede

All.
Hymen o Hymen Hymenæus Hymen.

Enter a shippwrackte Sayler.
Sayl:
Immortall Gods why mocke yee mortalls thus?
Where shall I finde Timon, wretched Timon?

Tim:
Who with such clamors interupts our ioyes?
Speake whatsoe're it is.

Sayl:
I bring thee heauy newes, thy shippes are drown'd
In Neptunes waues not one of them arriu'd

Lach:
The Gods forbidde.

Sayl:
Neptune thy foe hath wrought thee this mishappe
And swallow'd vppe thy gemmes in his vast wombe
And neuer will restore them backe again.
Exit Sayler.

Tim:
At lengthe I knowe what misery doth meane.

Philar:
Hence Callimele hence from that beggers side.

Gela:
Thou would'st not haue mee to thy sonne in law
What doth it yet repent thee?

Phil:
Giue mee my daughter, why dost thou claspe her?
Shees none of thine.

Tim:
Doth Callimele say soe?

Callim:
I loued Timon riche not Timon poore
Thou art not now the man thou wast before

Philar:
This is my wisedome, this shee learn'd of mee

Tim:
Wealth being loste the loue which was remaines
Why dost thou soe inconstantly revolte?
Beholde the light of Hymenæus lampes
Why turnest thou thy face away from mee?
What am I such an eiesore now to thee?

Philar:
Away, away thou poore three farthing Iacke
Thou faggende of the people get thee hence
Touche not my daughter thou.

Tim.
Callimela.

Blat:
Thus goods & loue are shippewrackt both at once
Come, I'le receaue thee into fauour, come.

Philar:
Base pouertie doth followe luxury
Get home & liue by mending of olde shoes
Spende not whole daies in drunken Bacchus cuppes
Goe home thou slaue, or here with hunger pin'd
Belche out thy soule. I hate a man thats poore
Hees worse than any homicide.

Tim:

Herm:
Why dost thou not lamente Eutrapelus?

Eutr:
My eies are of Pumice stone I cannot

Gela:
To morrow Callimela I will sayle
To the Kings daughter of Antipodes
Expect mee not thy sutor any more.

Tim.
Doth noe small sparcle of thy loue remaine?

Philar:/
Hence my sweete girle vouchsafe him not one worde
Hees worse than a crocodile or serpent
Nay worse than the diuell himselfe.

Gela:
Why soe?

Philar:
Because hees poore.

Gela:
Ha ha he.
How melancholy walkes hee to & fro?
Thou shalt if that thou wilt mende my olde shoes

Lach:
I will not see my Mr thus abus'd
I'le rather die, what dost? whom speakst thou to?
Hence least thou feele my cholericke reuenge
And quickly to bee gone I say, thou foole
Dost thou deride my masters miseries?

Gela:
Thou knowst not how I hate these souldiers
That looke soe furious, come let vs goe
I am even sicke to see his face. vah

Eutr:
Weele goe along with thee.

Exeunt Gelasimus & Eutrapelus.
Herm:
Thy masters harde misfortune I lamente
Exit Hermog:

Dem:
Commend my loue to bee at his commaunde.
Exit Demeas.

Lach:
The shadowes all are gone, noe sunne shines here
Mr why muse you thus? what thinke you on?
Why are your eyes soe fixed on the earth?
Pull vp your spirits, all aduersity
By patience is made more tolerable.

Tim:/
Great father of the Gods, what wickednes
What impious sinne haue I com̄itted?
What haue I piss'd vppon my fathers vrne?
Or haue I poyson'd my forefathers? what
What, what haue I deseru'd an innocent?

Lach:
His countenance bewraies his vexed soule. Aside


Tim:
O Ioue, o Ioue.
Haue I thy altar seldome visited?
Or haue I beene to proud? or yet deny'd
To succour poore men in necessity?
Not this, nor that: Yee Gods haue vow'd my fall
Thou thou hast vow'd it Ioue, against mee then
Discharge whole vollies of thy thunderclapps
And strike mee thorough with thy thunderbolte
Or with a sodeine flashe of lighteninge
Destroy mee quicke from thy supernall throne
I knowe not how to suffer pouertie
Who haue soe oft relieu'd the poore wth golde.

Lach:
Leaue of complaints, griefe augments misery.

Tim:
I am besides myselfe I knowe not how
Hymen why Hymen are thy lampes extincte?
Come light them once againe my bride's at hande
A fonde dreame Timon neuer shall deiecte
My Callimele complaines I stay to long
I come my light in dreames I'le come to thee

Lach:
Where rushe you heade-long? mr, Callimele
Hath lefte thee basely, & ingratefully
And hath despised thee, now thou art poore.

Tim:

Lach:
Comfort yourselfe, you haue some friends yet lefte [I]

Tim:
Is't possible a poore man should haue friends?

Lach:
Aduersitie cannot parte faithefull friends

Tim:
Hee is deceau'd that lookes for faithe on earthe
ffaithe is in heauen, & scornes mortall men.
I am compelled by necessity
To proue my friends: thus poore & destitute
I goe to seeke reliefe from other men.

Exeunt Timon & Laches.