15461 Heare you M. Steward, where's our Master?

1547Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining?

1548Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you?

1549Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods,

1550I am as poore as you.

15511 Such a House broke?

1552So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not

1553One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme,

1554And go along with him.

15552 As we do turne our backes

1556From our Companion, throwne into his graue,

1557So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes

1558Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him

1559Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe

1560A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,

1561With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty,

1562Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.

1564Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house.

15653 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery,

1566That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still,

1567Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke,

1568And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke,

1569Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part

1570Into this Sea of Ayre.

1571Stew. Good Fellowes all,

1572The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you.

1573Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake,

1574Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say

1575As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes,

1576We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some:

1577Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more,

1578Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.

1580Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs!

1581Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,

1582Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt?

1583Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue

1584But in a Dreame of Friendship,

1585To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds,

1586But onely painted like his varnisht Friends:

1587Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart,

1588Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood,

1589When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good.

1590Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen?

1591For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men.

1592My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst,

1593Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes

1594Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord)

1595Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate

1596Of monstrous Friends:

1597Nor ha's he with him to supply his life,

1598Or that which can command it:

1599Ile follow and enquire him out.

1600Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will,

1601Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still. Exit.