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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