Poe.
Good day, good day, sir.14Q1142

Pai.
I am glad you are well.

Poe.
I have not seen you long; How goes the world?

Pai.
It wears, sir, as it grows. ^note

Poe.
Ay, that's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See!
Magick of bounty, all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.

Pai.
I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.

Mer.
O, 'tis a worthy lord.

Jew.
Nay, that's most fixt.

Mer.
A most incomparable; breath'd ^note, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.

Jew.
I have a jewel † here:

Mer.
O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir?

Jew.
If he will touch the estimate; But, for that,— Poe.
When we for recompence have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good. [repeating to himself.

Mer.
'Tis a good form. [looking on the Jewel.

Jew.
And rich: here is a water, look you.

Pai.
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.

Poe.
A thing slipt idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which issues ^note
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint
Shews not, 'till it be strook; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes ^note. What have you † there?

Pai.
A picture, sir.
And when comes your book forth?

Poe.
Upon the heels
Of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece.

Pai.
'Tis a good piece.

Poe.
So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Pai.
Indifferent.

Poe.
Admirable: How this grace
Speaks his own standing? what a mental power
This eye shoots forth? how big imagination
Moves in this lip? to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.

Pai.
It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; Is't good?

Poe.
I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators,14Q1143 and pass over.

Pai.
How this lord is follow'd!

Poe.
The senators of Athens;—Happy man ^note!

Pai.
Look, more.

Poe.
You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.
I have, in this † rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no level'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies ^note an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pai.
How shall I understand you?

Poe.
I'll unbolt to you.
You see, how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures ^note, as
Of grave and austere quality) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself; even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pai.
I saw them speak together.

Poe.
Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,

Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixt,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pai.
'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well exprest
In our condition.

Poe.
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late
(Some better than his value) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him
Drink the free air.

Pai.
Ay, marry, what of these?

Poe.
When fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, ^note let him slip down ^note,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pai.
'Tis common:
A thousand moral paintings I can shew,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune ^note
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To shew lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head. Flourish. Enter Timon, attended; Servant of Ventidius talking with him.

Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?

Ser.
Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt;
His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing him ^{note note},
Periods his comfort.

Tim.
Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather, to shake off
My friend when he must need ^note me. I do know him
A gentleman, that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have:—I'll pay the debt, and free him.

Ser.
Your lordship ever binds him.

Tim.
Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;
And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me:—
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.—Fare you well.

Ser.
All happiness to your honour! [Exit. Enter an old Athenian.

o. A.
Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Tim.
Freely, good father.

o. A.
Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.

Tim.
I have so: What of him?

o. A.
Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim.
Attends he here, or no?—Lucilius! Enter Lucilius.

Luc.
Here, at your lordship's service.

o. A.
This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature,
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift;
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim.
Well; what further?

o. A.
One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.
The man is honest.

o. A.
Therefore he will be, Timon:14Q1144
His honesty rewards him in itself,
It must not bear my daughter.

Tim.
Does she love him?

o. A.
She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim.
Love you the maid?

Luc.
Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

o. A.
If in her marriage my consent be missing,
I call the gods to witness, I will choose ^note
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

Tim.
How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband?

o. A.
Three talents, on the present; in future, all.

Tim.
This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;
To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

o. A.
Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

Tim.
My hand † to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Luc.
Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may
That state or fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not ow'd to you. [Exeunt Lucilius, and old Athenian.

Poe.
Vouchsafe my &dagger2; labour, and long live your lordship. [presenting his Poem.

Tim.
I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
Go not away.—What have you there, my friend?

Pai.
A piece of painting; which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept. [presenting it.

Tim.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencil'd ^note figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
'Till you hear further from me.

Pai.
The gods preserve you!

Tim.
Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand: [to the Merchant.
We must needs dine together.—Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jew.
What, my lord? dispraise?

Tim.
A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extol'd,
It would unclew me quite.

Jew.
My lord, 'tis rated
As those, which sell, would give: But you well know,
Things of like value, differing in the owners,
Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Tim.
Well mock'd.

Mer.
No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him. Enter Apemantus.

Tim.
Look, who comes here:
Will you be chid?

Jew.

We'll bear it with your lordship.

Mer.

He'll spare ^note none.

Tim.

Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.

Ape.

'Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow.

Mer.

When will that be?

Ape.

When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

Tim.

Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

Ape.

Are they not Athenians?

Tim.

Yes.

Ape.

Then I repent not.

Jew.

You know me, Apemantus.

Ape.

Thou know'st, I do; I call'd thee by thy name.

Tim.

Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Ape.

Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon.

Tim.

Whither art going?

Ape.

To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

Tim.

That's a deed thou'lt dye for.

Ape.

Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

Tim.

How lik'st thou this † picture, Apemantus?

Ape.

The best, for ^note the innocence.

Tim.

Wrought he not well, that painted it?

Ape.

He wrought better, that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.

Pai.

You're a dog.

Ape.

Thy mother's of my generation; What's she, if I be a dog?

Tim.

Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

Ape.

No; I eat not lords.

Tim.

An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.

Ape.

O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim.

That's a lascivious apprehension.

Ape.

So thou apprehend'st it; take it for thy labour.

Tim.

How dost thou like this † jewel, Apemantus?

Ape.

Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost ^note a man a doit.

Tim.

What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Ape.

Not worth my thinking.—How now, Poet? ^note

Poe.

How now, philosopher?

Ape.

Thou ly'st.

Poe.

Art not one?

Ape.

Yes.

Poe.

Then I lye not.

Ape.

Art not a poet?

Poe.

Yes.

Ape.

Then thou ly'st: look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.

Poe.

That's not feign'd, he is so.

Ape.

Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: He, that loves to be flatter'd, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim.

What would'st do then, Apemantus?

Ape.

E'en as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim.

What, thyself?

Ape.

Ay.

Tim.

Wherefore?

Ape.

That I had so hungry a wit ^note, to be a lord.—Art not thou a merchant?

Mer.

Ay, Apemantus.

Ape.
Traffick confound thee, if the gods will not!

Mer.
If traffick do it, the gods do it.

Ape.
Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound thee! Trumpet. Enter a Servant.

Tim.
What trumpet's that?

Ser.
'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.

Tim.
Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.— [Exeunt some Attendants.
You must needs dine with me:—Go not you hence,
'Till I have thank'd you; and, ^note when dinner's done,
Shew me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.— Enter Alcibiades, and his Company.
Most welcome, sir. [they salute.

Ape.
So, so; there!—
Aches ^note contract and starve your supple joints!—
That there should be small love 'mongst ^note these sweet knaves,
And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Alc.
Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.

Tim.
Right welcome, sir:
Ere we depart ^note, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt All but Apemantus. Enter two Lords.

1. L.

What time of day is't, Apemantus?

Ape.

Time to be honest.

1. L.

That time serves still.

Ape.

The most accursed ^note thou, that still omit'st it.

2. L.

Thou art going to lord Timon's feast?

Ape.

Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

2. L.

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Ape.

Thou art a fool, to bid me farewel twice.

2. L.

Why, Apemantus?

Ape.

Should'st have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

1. L.

Hang thyself.

Ape.

No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

2. L.

Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.

Ape.

I will fly, like a dog, the heels o'the ass.

1. L.
He's opposite to humanity. Come ^note, shall we in,
And taste lord Timon's bounty? he out-goes
The very heart of kindness.

2. L.
He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.

1. L.
The noblest mind he carries,
That ever govern'd man.

2. L.
Long may he live
In fortunes! Shall we in?

1. L.
I'll keep you company. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A State-Room in the same. Musick. A great Banquet serv'd in; Flavius, and ^note other Domesticks, waiting. Flourish, and Enter Timon, attended; Alcibiades, Ventidius, Senators, Lords, ^note &c: then comes dropping in after all, Apemantus discontentedly.

Ven.
Most honour'd Timon,14Q1145
'T hath pleas'd the gods in kindness to remember
My father's age, and call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those † talents,
Doubl'd, with thanks, and service, from whose help
I deriv'd liberty.

Tim.
O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;
I gave it freely ever; and there's none
Can truly say, he gives, if he receives:
If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them; Faults, that are rich, are fair.

Ven.
A noble spirit.

Tim.
Nay, my lords, ceremony [inviting them to sit to Table.
Was but devis'd at first
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray, sit; ^note more welcome are ye to my fortunes,
Than they to me ^note. [they sit.

1. L.
My lord, we always have confest it.

Ape.
Ho, ho, confest it? hang'd it, have you not?

Tim.
O, Apemantus!—you are welcome.

Ape.
No;
You shall not make me welcome:
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

Tim.
Fie, thou'rt a churl; you have got a humour there
Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame:—
They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est,

But yonder man is ever angry.—
Go, let him have a table by himself; [to Att.
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for it, indeed.

Ape.
Do, let me stay at thine own peril ^note, Timon;
I come to observe, I give thee warning on't.

Tim.
I take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian,
And therefore welcome: I myself would have
No power, but, pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.

Ape.
I scorn thy meat; 'twould choak me, for I should
Ne'er flatter thee.—O you gods, what a number
Of men eat ^note Timon, and he sees 'em not!
'T grieves me, to see so many dip their meat ^note
In one man's blood; and all the madness is,
He cheers them up too.
I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men:
Methinks, they should invite them without knives;
Good for their meat ^note, and safer for their lives.
There's much example for't; the fellow, that
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges
The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is the readiest man to kill him: 't has been prov'd.
If I were a huge man now, I should fear
To drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

Tim.
My lord, in heart; and let the health go round. [to a Lord, who drinks to him.

2. L.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.

Ape.
Flow this way!
A most brave fellow! he keeps his tides well. Timon,
Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill.

Here's † that, which is too weak to be a sinner,
Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire: ^note
This, and my food, are equals; ^note there's no odds.
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; [Grace.
I pray for no man but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath, or bond;
Or a harlot, for her weeping;
Or a dog, that seems asleeping;
Or a keeper with my freedom;
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
  Amen. So fall to't:
Rich men sin, and I eat root.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus. [falls to his Dinner apart.

Tim.

Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

Alc.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

Tim.

You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, than a dinner of friends.

Alc.

So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's no meat like 'em; I could wish my best ^note friend at such a feast.

Ape.

'Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then; that thou ^note might'st kill 'em, and bid me to 'em.

1. L.

Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.

Tim.

O, no doubt, my good friends,14Q1146 but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you: How had you been my friends else? why

have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should ne'er have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their ^note sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wish'd myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: And what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends? O, what a pretious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! o joy, ^note e'en made away ere't ^note can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, me thinks: to forget their faults, I drink † to you.

Ape.
Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon.

2. L.
Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up.

Ape.
Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

3. L.
I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.

Ape.
Much! [Trumpet within.

Tim.
What means that trump?—How now? Enter a Servant.

Ser.

Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.

Tim.

Ladies? what are their wills?

Ser.

There comes with them a fore-runner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

Tim.

I pray, let them be admitted.

Cup.
Hail to thee, worthy Timon;—and to all
That of his bounties taste!—The five best senses ^note14Q1147
Acknowledge thee their patron; and are come
Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bosom:
The ear, taste, touch, ^note smell, pleas'd from thy table rise;
These only ^note now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim.
They're welcome ^note all; let them have kind admittance:—
Musick, make known their welcome. [Exit Cupid.

1. L.
You see ^note, my lord, how ample ^note you're belov'd. Musick. Re-enter Cupid with Masque of Ladies, ^note drest like Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing, and playing.

Ape.
Hey-day! why, what a sweep of vanity
Comes this way! And 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,
Would one day stamp upon me: 'T has been done;
Men shut their doors against a setting sun. The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon; and, to shew their Loves, each singles 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 a much grace, fair ladies,
Set a ^note fair fashion on our entertainment,

Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
You have added grace unto't ^note, and lively ^note lustre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device;
I am to thank you for't.

1. L.
My lord, ^note you take us even at the best.

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

Tim.
Ladies, there is within an idle banquet
Attends you; Please you to dispose yourselves?

Lad.
Most thankfully, my lord. [Exeunt Cupid, and Ladies. ^note

Tim.
Flavius,—

Ste.
My lord.

Tim.
The little casket bring me hither.

Ste.
Yes, my lord.—
&clquo;More jewels! ^note There's no crossing him in his humour;&crquo;
&clquo;Else I should tell him,—Well,—i'faith, I should,&crquo;
&clquo;When all's spent, he'd be crost then, an he could.&crquo;
&clquo;'Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind;&crquo;
&clquo;That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.&crquo; [Exit, and returns with the Casket.

1. L.
Where be our men, ho?

Ser.
Here, my lord, in readiness.

2. L.
Our horses.

Tim.
O my friends, I have one word
To say to you:—Look you, my good lord, I must
Intreat you, honour me so much, as to
Advance this &dagger2; jewel; accept, and ^note wear it, kind my lord.

1. L.
I am so far already in your gifts,—

Lor.
So are we all. Enter a Servant.

Ser.
My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate

Newly alighted, and come to visit you.

Tim.
They are fairly welcome.

Ste.
I beseech your honour,
Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Tim.
Me near?14Q1148 why, then another time I'll hear thee:
I pr'ythee, let us be provided now
To shew them entertainment.

&clquo;Ste.
&clquo;I scarce know how.&crquo; Enter a Servant.

Ser.
May it please your honour, the 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 Enter another Servant.
Be worthily entertain'd.—How now? what news?

Ser.
Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman,
The lord Lucullus, entreats your company
To-morrow, to hunt with him; and has sent you ^note
Two brace of grey-hounds.

Tim.
I'll hunt with him; And let them be receiv'd,
Not without fair reward.

&clquo;Ste.
&clquo;What will this come to?&crquo;
&clquo;He here commands us to provide, and give&crquo;
&clquo;Great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer:&crquo;
&clquo;Nor will he know his purse; or yield me this,&crquo;
&clquo;To shew him what a beggar his heart is,&crquo;
&clquo;Being of no power to make his wishes good:&crquo;
&clquo;His promises fly so beyond his state,&crquo;
&clquo;That what he speaks is all in debt, he ^note owes&crquo;
&clquo;For every word; he is so kind, that he now&crquo;
&clquo;Pays interest for't; his land's put to their books.&crquo;
&clquo;Well, would I were gently put out of office,&crquo;

&clquo;Before I were forc'd ^note out!&crquo;
&clquo;Happier is he that has no friends to feed,&crquo;
&clquo;Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.&crquo;
&clquo;I do bleed inwardly for my lord.&crquo; [Exit.

Tim.
You do yourselves much wrong, you bate too much
Of your own merits:—My ^note lord, a trifle &dagger2; of our love.

2. L.
With more than common thanks I will receive it.

3. L.
O, he's the ^note very soul of bounty!

Tim.
And now
I do remember me, my lord, you gave
Good words the other day of a bay courser
I rode on: it is yours, because you lik'd it.

1. L.
O, I ^note beseech you, pardon me, my lord,
In that.

Tim.
You may take my word, my lord; I know,
No man can justly praise, but what he does affect;
I weigh my friend's affection with mine own;
I tell you true. I'll call on you ^note.

Lor.
O, none so welcome.

Tim.
I take all and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;
Methinks, ^note 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: for all thy living
Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lye in a pitcht field.

Alc.
I defy land, ^note my lord.

1. L.
We are so virtuously bound,—

Tim.
And so
Am I to you.

2. L.
So infinite ^note endear'd,—

Tim.
All to you.—Lights, more lights. ^note

1. L.
The best of happiness,
Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon!

Tim.
Ready for his friends. [Exeunt Alcibiades, Lords, &c.

Ape.
What a coil's here!
Serring ^note of becks, and jutting out of bums!
I doubt, whether their legs be worth the sums
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs:
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs.
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies.

Tim.
Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I would be good to thee.

Ape.
No, I'll nothing: for,
If I should be brib'd too, there'd be none left
To rail upon thee; and then thou would'st sin the faster.
Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me, thou
Wilt give away thyself in proper ^note shortly:
What need ^note these feasts, pomps, and vain-glories?

Tim.
Nay,
An you begin to rail once on society ^note,
I am sworn, not to give regard to you.
Farewell; and come with better musick. [Exit.

Ape.
So;
Thou wilt not hear me now,—thou shalt not then,
I'll lock thy heaven from thee. O, that men's ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery! [Exit.

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