Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster, and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no lesse esteemed Varro. What is a Whoremaster 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 Gods 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 cocke, And set mine eyes at flow Tim. Prythee no more