Apem. Till I be gentle, stay 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'lt 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 are 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 apprehend'st 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 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 feign'd him a worthy fellow.

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

Apem. 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 wouldst do then, Apemantus?

Apem. Even 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.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!

Trumpets sound. 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.-
[Exeunt some Attendants.

You must needs dine with me:-Go not you hence,
Till I have thank'd you; and, when dinner's done,
Show me this piece.-I am joyful of your sights.-
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company.

Aches contract and starve your supple joints!—

[They salute.

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 saved my longing, and I feed

Most hungrily 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 but APEMANTUS.

Enter two Lords.

1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus? Apem. Time to be honest.

1 Lord. That time serves still.

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

2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.

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

2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well.

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

2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give

thee none.

1 Lord. Hang thyself.

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

2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence. Apem. I will fly like a dog the heels of the ass.

1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes

The very heart of kindness.

2 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,

* Man is degenerated into.

† Desert.

[Exit.

But breeds the giver a return exceeding

All use of quittance. *

1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries,

That ever govern'd man.

2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in? 1 Lord. 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, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleased the gods 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,
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose help
I derived 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.

[They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON. Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony

Was but devised 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.

1 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.

Apem. No,

You shall not make me welcome:

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

[They sit.

Tim. Fie, thou art 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, t

But yond' man's ever angry.

Go, let him have a table by himself;

For he does neither affect company,

Nor is he fit for it, indeed.

Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon;

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

Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian; therefore

* I. e. all customary returns for obligations.

† Anger is a short madness.

welcome: I myself would have no power: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.

Apem. I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods, what a number

Of men eat Timon, and he sees them 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, and pledges
The breath of him in a divided draught,

Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been proved,
lf 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.
2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem. Flow this way!

A 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:
This, and my food are equals; there's no odds.
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
APEMANTUS' 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;
Or a harlot, for her weeping;
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping.
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!

[Eats and drinks.

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

Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

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

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

Apem. Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then;

that then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em.

1 Lord. 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.

* Armour.

With sincerity.

+ Foolish.

Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends; 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 you not 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 never 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 sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished 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? Ô, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.

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

Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. 3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you moved me much. Apem. Much.t

Tim. What means that trump ?-How now?

Enter a SERVANT.

[Tucket sounded.

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

Tim. Ladies? what are their wills?

Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.

Enter CUPID.

Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon ;-and to all
That of his bounties taste!-The five best senses
Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely
To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: The ear,
Taste, touch, smell, all pleased from thy table rise;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim. They are welcome all; let them have kind admittance :

Music, make their welcome.

[Exit CUPID.

1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you are beloved.

Music.-Re-enter CUPID, with a Masque of LADIES as Amazons, with Lutes in their hands, dancing and playing.

Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance! they are mad women.

Like madness is the glory of this life,

As this pomp shows 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,

* Endearing.

† A contemptuous exclamation.