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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE VI. Enter Cupid with a Masque of Ladies, as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing.

Cup.
Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all
That of his bounties taste! the five best Senses
Acknowledge thee their patron; and do come
Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bosom:
5 note







Th'Ear, Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy Table rise,
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim.
They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance.
Let musick make their welcome.

-- 188 --

Luc.
You see, my Lord, how amply you're belov'd.

Apem.
Heyday! what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
6 note

They dance? They are mad women.
Like madness is the glory of this life;
As this pomp shews to a little oil and root.
We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,
Upon whose age we void it up again,
With poisonous spite and envy.
Who lives, that's not depraved, or depraves?
Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves
Of their friends' gift?
I should fear, those, that dance before me now,

-- 189 --


Would one day stamp upon me. 'T has been done;
Men shut their doors against the setting sun. The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of Timon; each singling out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women; a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.

Tim.
You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
You've added worth unto't, and lively lustre,
And entertain'd me with 7 notemine own device.
I am to thank you for it.

Luc.
* noteMy Lord, you take us even at the best.

Apem.

'Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.

Tim.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you.
Please you to dispose yourselves.

All Lad.
Most thankfully, my Lord.
[Exeunt.

Tim.
Flavius,—

Flav.
My Lord.

Tim.
The little casket bring me hither.

Flav.

Yes, my Lord. More jewels yet? there is no crossing him in's humour,

[Aside.
Else I should tell him—well—i'faith, I should,
When all's spent, 8 notehe'd be cross'd then if he could:

-- 190 --


'Tis pity, Bounty has not 9 noteeyes behind;
That men might ne'er be wretched 1 notefor his mind.

Lucul.
Where be our men?

Serv.
Here, my Lord, in readiness.

Luc.
Our Horses.

Tim.
O my good friends!
I have one word to say to you; look, my Lord,
I must entreat you, honour me so much
As 2 noteto advance this jewel, accept and wear it,
Kind my Lord!

Luc.
I am so far already in your gifts—

All.
So are we all.
Enter a Servant.

Serv.

My Lord, there are certain Nobles of the Senate newly alighted, and come to visit you.

Tim.

They are fairly welcome.

Re-enter Flavius.

Flav.

I beseech your Honour, vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Tim.
Near! Why then another time I'll hear thee.
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to shew them entertainment.

Flav. [Aside]
I scarce know how.
Enter another Servant.

2 Serv.

May it please your Honour, Lord Lucius, out of his free love, hath presented to you four milk-white horses trapt in silver.

Tim.
I shall accept them fairly. Let the Presents
Be worthily entertain'd.

-- 191 --

Enter a third Servant.
How now? what news?

3 Serv.

Please you, my Lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him, and has sent your Honour two brace of grey-hounds.

Tim.
I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
Not without fair reward.

Flav. [Aside.]

What will this come to? he commands us to provide, and give great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer.


Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,
To shew him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good;
His promises fly so beyond his state,
That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes
For ev'ry word. He is so kind, that he
Pays interest for't; his land's put to their books.
Well, 'would I were gently put out of office,
Ere I were forc'd!
Happier is he that has no friend to feed,
Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my Lord. [Exit.

Tim.

You do yourselves much wrong, you 'bate too much of your own merits. Here, my Lord, a trifle of our love.

1 Lord.

With more than common thanks I will receive it.

3 Lord.

He has the very soul of bounty.

Tim.

And now I remember, my Lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on.


'Tis yours, because you lik'd it.

2 Lord.

Oh, I beseech you, pardon me, my Lord, in that.

Tim.

You may take my word, my Lord. I know no man

-- 192 --


Can justly praise, but what he does affect;
I weigh my friend's affection with my own.
3 noteI tell you true. I'll call on you.

All Lords.
O, none so welcome.

Tim.
I take all, and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 4 note
'tis not enough to give,
My thanks, I could deal Kingdoms to my friends,
And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,
It comes in charity to thee; thy living
Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lie in a pitcht field.

Alc.
* noteI' defiled land, my Lord.

1 Lord.
We are so virtuously bound—

Tim.
And so am I to you.

2 Lord.
So infinitely endear'd—

Tim.
All to you. Lights! more lights, more lights.

3 Lord.
The best of happiness, honour and fortunes,
Keep with you, Lord Timon

Tim.
Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt Lords.

-- 193 --

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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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