Mer.

He'll spare none.

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

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

Apem. Are they not Athenians?

Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus?

Apem. Thou know'st I do; I call'd thee by thy name.
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
Tim. Whither art going?

Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

Tim. That's a deed thou't die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?

Apem. The best, for the innocence.

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it?

Apem. He wrought better that made the painter; and

yet he's but a filthy piece of work.

Pain. You're a dog.

Apem. Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I

be a dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?

Apem. No; I eat not lords.

Tim. An thou shouldst, thou'dst anger ladies.

Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apem. So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?

Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost(7) a man a doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Apem. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet!
Poet. How now, philosopher!

Apem. Thou liest.

Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.

Apem. Art not a poet?

Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.

Poet. That's not feigned,-he is so.

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

Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

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

Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.(8)—Art not thou a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

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

Apem. Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Servant.

Tim. What trumpet's that?

Serv. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,

All of companionship.

Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.—

You must needs dine with me:-go

[Exeunt some Attendants. not you

hence

Till I have thank'd you :-when (9) dinner's done,
Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company.

Most welcome, sir!

Арет.

So, so, there!—

[They salute.

Aches contract and starve your supple joints!—

That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves,

And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out

Into baboon and monkey.

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

Tim.

Right welcome, sir!

Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time

In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

[Exeunt all except Apemantus.

Enter two Lords.

First Lord. What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

Apem. Time to be honest.

First Lord. That time serves still.

Apem. The most (10) accursèd thou, that still omitt'st it. Sec. Lord. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast? Apem. Ay, to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools. Sec. Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Sec. Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

First Lord. Hang thyself!

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

Sec. Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee

hence!

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass. [Exit. First Lord. He's opposite to humanity.--Come, shall we in,

And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes

The very heart of kindness.

Sec. Lord. 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.

First Lord.

The noblest mind he carries

That ever govern'd man.

Sec. Lord. Long may he live in fortunes!-Shall we in?
First Lord.(11) I'll keep you company.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A room of state in TIMON's house.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter TIMON,(12) ALCIBIADEs, Lords, Senators, and VENTIDIUS. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon,

It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my father's age,
And call him to long peace.(13)

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,
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
I deriv'd liberty.

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!

[They all stand ceremoniously looking on

Timon.

Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony 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; more welcome are ye to my fortunes
Than my fortunes to me.

[They sit.

First Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it.
Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not?
Tim. O, Apemantus,-you are welcome.
Арет.

You shall not make me welcome:

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

No;

Tim. Fie, thou'rt a churl; you've got a humour there

Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame.—

They say, my lords, ira furor brevis est;

But yond man is ever angry.(14)

Go, let him have a table by himself;
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for't, indeed.

Apem. Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon:

I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.

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

Apem. I scorn thy meat; (15) should ne'er flatter thee.-O you

'twould choke me, for I

gods, what a number of

men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me to see So many dip their meat 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, and safer for their lives.

There's much example for't; the fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him: 't has been proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;

Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
Sec. Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord.

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

Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner,

Honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:
This and my food are equals; there's no odds:
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

Apemantus's grace.

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond;