Shakespeare's First Folio Part 521

Var. How dost Foole?

Ape. Dost Dialogue with thy shadow?

Var. I speake not to thee

Ape. No 'tis to thy selfe. Come away

Isi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already

Ape. No thou stand'st single, th'art not on him yet

Cap. Where's the Foole now?

Ape. He last ask'd the question. Poore Rogues, and Vsurers men, Bauds betweene Gold and want

Al. What are we Apemantus?

Ape. a.s.ses

All. Why?

Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not know your selues. Speake to 'em Foole

Foole. How do you Gentlemen?

All. Gramercies good Foole: How does your Mistris?

Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to scal'd such Chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth

Ape. Good, Gramercy.

Enter Page.

Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page

Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in this wise Company.

How dost thou Apermantus?

Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably

Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the superscription of these Letters, I know not which is which

Ape. Canst not read?

Page. No

Ape. There will litle Learning dye then that day thou art hang'd. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go thou was't borne a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and thou't dye a Bawd

Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt famish a Dogges death.

Answer not, I am gone.

Exit

Ape. E'ne so thou out-runst Grace, Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons

Foole. Will you leaue me there?

Ape. If Timon stay at home.

You three serue three Vsurers?

All. I would they seru'd vs

Ape. So would I: As good a tricke as euer Hangman seru'd Theefe

Foole. Are you three Vsurers men?

All. I Foole

Foole. I thinke no Vsurer, but ha's a Foole to his Seruant.

My Mistris is one, and I am her Foole: when men come to borrow of your Masters, they approach sadly, and go away merry: but they enter my Masters house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?

Var. I could render one

Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Wh.o.r.emaster, and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no lesse esteemed

Varro. What is a Wh.o.r.emaster Foole?

Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and something like thee. 'Tis a spirit, sometime t' appeares like a Lord, somtime like a Lawyer, sometime like a Philosopher, with two stones moe then's artificiall one. Hee is verie often like a Knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes vp and downe in, from fourescore to thirteen, this spirit walkes in

Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole

Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wise man, As much foolerie as I haue, so much wit thou lack'st

Ape. That answer might haue become Apemantus

All. Aside, aside, heere comes Lord Timon.

Enter Timon and Steward.

Ape. Come with me (Foole) come

Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, elder Brother, and Woman, sometime the Philosopher

Stew. Pray you walke neere, Ile speake with you anon.

Exeunt.

Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laide my state before me, That I might so haue rated my expence As I had leaue of meanes

Stew. You would not heare me: At many leysures I propose

Tim. Go too: Perchance some single vantages you tooke, When my indisposition put you backe, And that vnaptnesse made your minister Thus to excuse your selfe

Stew. O my good Lord, At many times I brought in my accompts, Laid them before you, you would throw them off, And say you sound them in mine honestie, When for some trifling present you haue bid me Returne so much, I haue shooke my head, and wept: Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close: I did indure Not sildome, nor no slight checkes, when I haue Prompted you in the ebbe of your estate, And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord, Though you heare now (too late) yet nowes a time, The greatest of your hauing, lackes a halfe, To pay your present debts

Tim. Let all my Land be sold

Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeyted and gone, And what remaines will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues; the future comes apace: What shall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck'ning?

Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend

Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word, Were it all yours, to giue it in a breath, How quickely were it gone

Tim. You tell me true

Stew. If you suspect my Husbandry or Falshood, Call me before th' exactest Auditors, And set me on the proofe. So the G.o.ds blesse me, When all our Offices haue beene opprest With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept With drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roome Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsie, I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull c.o.c.ke, And set mine eyes at flow