University of Virginia Library

scen. jm a.

Enter Timon and Laches
Timon.
Laches hast thou receau'd my rents?

Laches
Mr. I haue, and brought in sacks filled wt h. goulden talents
Is't yor. pleasure that I cast them into pryson?

Tim:
Into pryson, whye soe?

La:
Lett yor. chests be the pryson
yor. locks the keeper, and yor. keyes the porter
otherwise they'le fly away, swyfter then birds, or wyndes.

Tim:
I will noe miser bee,
fflye gould; enioye the sunn beames; ti's not fitt
bright gould should lye hidd in obscuritie
I'le rather scatter it among the people.
Lett poore men somewhat take of my greate plenty
I would not haue them greiue, that they went empty
from Timons threshould, and I will not see
my pensive freinds to pyne wt h. penurie.

La:
Who beares a princelie mynd, needes princelie wealth
or ells he'ele wither like a Rose in springe
Nought wilbe left but thornes of povertie
Mr. thou art noe Kinge, noe Prince; doe well
Vnto thie selfe, and all is well.

Tim:
Thou speakest like thie selfe, and in thy kinde
Lett those that are borne slaues beare abiect minds
I Timon am not Laches.

Lach:
I poore Laches
Not Timon, yf I were I would not see
my goodes by crowes devoured as they bee

Tim:
I'st euen soe my learned Counsaylor.?
Rule thou this howse, be thou a Cittizen
of Athens; I thy seruant will Attend
thou shalt correct me as thy bondslaue, yes
thou shalt correct me Laches: I will beare
as fitts a slaue: By all the gods I sweare
Bridle thy tounge; or I will cutt it out
and turne thee out of dores;

Lach:
Because I speake
the truth;

Tim:
But peace once, once more I saye.

Lach:
Yes I'le not mutter, I'le as Silent bee
as any Counsaylor. wt h. out his ffee.

Tim:
Inglorious dayes, leade they whose inwarde parts
Apollo hath not made of better claye
It is to me a Tryumph and a glorye
that people fynger poynt at me and saye
this, this is he, «th»at his lardge wealth and store
scatters among the Comons & the poore
Hee doth not sitt at home and hugg himselfe
rubbing his greedy right hand wt h.. his gould
Whil'st poore men theire misfortunes doe deplore
vnder the open Ayre, Laches bestrowe
the streetes wt h. gould, and lett the people knowe
How bountifull the hands of Timon are.

Lach:
(Asid«e,»)
Soe Ioue me loue I had rather rotten eggs
or stincking pispotts cast vpon theire heades.

Tim:
Th«e» noyse ascend's to heau'n; Timons greate name
In the Gods eares resounds, to his greate fame
This I heare willinglie, «an»d ti's farre sweeter
then sound of harpe, or any pleasant meetre
I magnified by the peoples crye
shall mount in glorye to the heauens high.

Exeunt