University of Virginia Library

Scena 2d a [*]

Enter Timon & Laches wt h. [either a] 3 spades in their hands.
Tim:
Begon I saye, why dost thou follow me?
Why art thou yett soe instant?

Lach:
ffaith cōmaunds.

Tim:
Faith; Where is faith? where doth shee hide her head?
vnder the rise? or setting of the sunn?
Name thou the place.

Lach:
Here in this brest.

Tim:

Lach:
Lett me but followe thee

Tim:
If thou wilt follow me then chainge thy shape
into a Hydra that's in Lerna bred
or some strainge Monster hatcht in Affrica
Bee what thou art not, I will hugg thee then
this former face I hate detest and flye

Lach:
What is the reason thou do[']st hate me thus
Is this the recompence for all my paynes
He discouers himselfe
thou heretofore did'st turne me forth of dores
when I did giue thee true and «,» good advice
Doth the same fury now possesse thye mynd
what wickednesse doth make me soe abhor'd?

Tim:
Thou art a man, that's wickednesse enough.
I hate that fault, I hate all humane kinde
I hate my selfe, & curse my parents ghosts

Lach
Doth greife and rage thus ouerflowe theire bancks?
When will they Ebbe?

Tim:
Thou sooner shalt vnite
Water to ffyre heau'n to hell, darke to light
my mynd is Constant wt h. a burning hate
and knowes how to chainge; fforsake me then
I thee desire my ffoe and not my mate.

Lach:
Thinck mee thy foe, soe that thou suffer me
to be thy mate, noe hardnes I'le refuse
If thou Cōmaund my parents I'le despise
Thou soe cōmaunding will them euer hate.

Tim.
Thou hast prvayled be thou then my mate
but thou must suffer me to hate thee still
touch not or. hand, and exercise thie spade
in the remotest ∥te of all the ground.
O Ioue that dart'st thy peircing thunderboults
Lett a dire Comett wt h. his blazing streames
threaten a deadly plauge from heau'n on earth

Lach:
Lett seas of bloudshedd ouerflow the Earth

Tim:
Men, woemen, children perish, by the sword

Lach:
Lett ffunerall follow funerall & noe ∥te
of this world ruyne want.

Tim:
Lett greife teeme greife
and lett it be a punishmt. to lyue

Lach:
Lett Harvest cease.

Tim:
Lett riuers all wax drye
the hunger pyned parent eate the sonne

Lach:
The son̄ne the parent

Tim:
All plauges fall on this generac̄on
and neuer cease, heare me o heare me Ioue
Εμειο ζωντος γαια μιχθητω πυρι
Lett Atlas burthen from his shoulders slide
and the whole ffabrick of the heauens fall downe
While Timon lyues, yea now while Timon prayes
Returne Earth into thy former Chaos
Lett neuer sunn shyne to the world againe
Or Luna wt h. her brothers borrow'd light
Lett Timon see all theis things come to passe
such a Reuenge, best fitts such wickednesse.

Timon[s] diggs at one end of the stage and Laches at the other/