SCENE VII.
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.
(a) noteMe near? Why then another time I'll hear thee.
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to shew them entertainment.
Flav.
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.
Enter a third Servant.
How now? what news?
3 Serv.
Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman,
Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to
morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your Honour
two brace of grey-hounds.
-- 168 --
Tim.
I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
not without fair reward.
Flav.
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 can justly praise, but what he does affect. I
weigh my friend's affection with my own; I 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, 'tis not enough to give
(a) note My thanks, I could deal Kingdoms to my friends,
-- 169 --
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
Lye in a pitcht field.
Alc.
I defie 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.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
