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2 Lord. 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 mine own;
I'll call on you.

I'll tell you true.
All Lords.

None so welcome.

Tim. I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give; Methinks, 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
Lie in a pitch'd field.

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Alcib.

Ay, defiled land, my lord.

1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound,

Tim.

Am I to you.

2 Lord.

And so

So infinitely endear'd,——

The best of happiness,

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

1 Lord.

Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon!

Tim. Ready for his friends.

Арет.

[Exeunt Alcibiades, Lords, &c.

What a coil's here!

Serving 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'd be good to thee.

Apem.

No, I'll nothing: for,

If I should be brib'd too, there would 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 paper shortly:
What need these feasts, pomps, and vain glories?
Tim. Nay,

An you begin to rail on society once,

I am sworn, not to give regard to you.
Farewel; and come with better musick.

Apem.

[Exit. So;-

Thou'lt 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.

ACT II. SCENE I.

THE SAME. A ROOM IN A SENATOR'S HOUSE.

Enter a Senator, with papers in his hand.

Sen. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to
Isidore

He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
Which makes it five and twenty.--Still in motion
Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog,
And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold:
If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more
Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight,
And able horses: No porter at his gate;
But rather one that smiles, and still invites
All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason
Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say!

Caph.

Enter Caphis.

Here, sir; What is your pleasure?

Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord

Timon;

Impórtune him for my monies; be not ceas'd
With slight denial; nor then silenc'd, when—
Commend me to your master-and the cap

Plays in the right hand, thus:-but tell him, sirrah,
My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn

Out of mine own; his days and times are past,
And my reliances on his fracted dates

Have smit my credit: I love, and honour him;
But must not break my back, to heal his finger:
Immediate are my needs; and my relief
Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
But find supply immediate. Get you gone:
Put on a most importunate aspéct,

A visage of demand; for, I do fear,

When every feather sticks in his own wing,
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,

Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
Caph. I go, sir.

Sen. I go, sir?-take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in compt.

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Enter Flavius, with many bills in his hand. Flav. No care, no stop! so senseless of expence, That he will neither know how to maintain it, Nor cease his flow of riot: Takes no account How things go from him; nor resumes no care Of what is to continue; Never mind

Was to be so unwise, to be so kind.

What shall be done? He will not hear, till feel:

I must be round with him, now he comes from

hunting.

Fye, fye, fye, fye!

Enter Caphis, and the Servants of Isidore and Varro.

Caph.

You come for money?

Var. Serv.

Good even, Varro: What,

Is't not your business too?

It is so.

I fear it.

Caph. It is;-And yours too, Isidore?
Isid. Serv.

Caph. 'Would we were all discharg'd!
Var. Serv.

Caph. Here comes the lord.

Enter Timon, Alcibiades, and Lords, &c. Tim. So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again, My Alcibiades. With me? What's your will? Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. Tim. Dues? Whence are you?

Caph.

Of Athens here, my lord.

Tim. Go to my steward.

Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off To the succession of new days this month:

My master is awak'd by great occasion,

To call upon his own; and humbly prays you,
That with your other noble parts you'll suit,
In giving him his right.

Tim.

Mine honest friend,

I pr'ythee, but repair to me next morning.

Caph. Nay, good my lord,

Tim.

Contain thyself, good friend.

Var. Sero. One Varro's servant, my good lord,—

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