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Honeft Ventidius: you mistake my love,
I gave it freely ever, and there's none
Can truly fay 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 fpirit.

Tim, Nay, ceremony was but devis'd at first,
To fet a glofs on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, forry ere 'tis shown:

But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray, fit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes,

Than they to me.

Luc. We always have confeft it.

[They fit down.

Apem. Ho, ho, confeft 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.

Tim. Fie, th' art a churl; ye have got a humour there Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame :

They fay, my Lords, that Ira furor brevis eft,
But yonder man is ever angry. Go,
And let him have a table by himself:
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for it indeed.

Apem. Let me ftay at thy peril, Timon: I come to ob ferve, I give thee warning on't.

Tim. I take no heed of thee; th' art an Athenian, therefore welcome; I my felf would have no power, pr'ythee let my meat make thee filent.

Apem. I fcorn thy meat, 'twould choak me: for I fhould ne'er flatter thee. O you Gods! what a number of men eat Timon, and he fees it not! It grieves me to fee So many dip their meat in one man's blood,

And all the madness is, he cheers them up too.
I wonder men dare truft themfelves with men :
Methinks they fhould invite them without knives,
Good for their meat, and fafer 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 th' readiest man to kill him., "T has been prov'd.
Were I a great man, I fhould fear to drink,

Left they should fpy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men fhould drink with harnefs on their throats.
Tim. My Lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
Lucul. Let it flow this way, my good Lord.

Apem. Flow this way! -a brave fellow he keeps his tides well; thofe healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to be a finner, honeft water, which ne'er left man i' th' mire : This and my food are equal, there's no odds; Feafts are too proud to give thanks to the Gods. Apemantus's Grace,

Immortal Gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but my felf;
Grant I may never prove fo fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond;
Or a barlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that feems a fleeping,
Or a keeper with my freedom,
Or my friends if I should need 'em.
Amen, Amen: So fall to't:

Rich men fin, and I eat root.

Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now. Alc, My heart is ever at your fervice, 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 with my friend at fuch a feaft. Apem. Would all these flatterers were thine enemies then; that thou might'ft kill 'em, and bid me to 'em! Luc. Might we but have the happiness, my Lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might exprefs fome part of our zeals, we fhould think our felves for ever perfect.

Tim. Oh, no doubt, my good friends, but the Gods themselves have provided that I fhall have as much help from you: how had you been my friends elfe? why have you that character and title from thoufands, did not you

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chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to my felf, than you can with modefty speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm you; oh you Gods, (think I,) what need we have any friends, if we fhould never have need of 'em? they would moft refemble sweet inftruments hung up in cafes, that keep their founds to themselves. Why, I have often wifht my felf 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 precious comfort 'tis to have fo many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made a joy ere't can be born; mine eyes cannot hold water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink

to you.

Apem.Thou weepest but to make them drink thee, Timon. Lucul. Joy had the like conception in our eyes,

And at that inftant like a babe fprung up.

Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a baftard. Lord. I promife you, my Lord, you mov'd me much. Apem. Much!

Sound Tucket.

Tim. What means that trump? how now?

Enter Servant.

Ser. Please you, my Lord, there are certain Ladies moft defirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies? what are their wills?

Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner, my Lord, which bears that office to fignifie their pleasures. Tim. I pray let them be admitted.


Enter Cupid with a Mafk of Ladies. Cup. Hail to the worthy Timon, and to all That of his bounties tafte! the five beft fenfes Acknowledge thee their patron, and do come Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bofom.

Th' ear, tafte, touch, fmell, pleas'd from thy table rife: Thefe only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim. They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance, Let mufick make their welcome.

Luc. You fee, my Lord, how amply you're belov'd.


Apem. Hoyday! why, what a fweep of vanity Comes this way! And they dance, they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life,

As this pomp thews to a little oyl and root.

We make our felves fools, to difport our felves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,
Upon whofe age we void it up again,
With poisonous fpite and envy.

Who lives, that's not

Depraved, or depraves? who dies, that bears

Not one fpurn to their graves of their friends gift?
I fhould fear, those that dance before me now
Would one day ftamp upon me: 'T has been done;
Men shut their doors against a fetting fun.

The Lords rife from table, with much adoring of Timon, each fingles out a Lady, and all dance, men with women, a lofty ftrain or two to the hautboys, and ceafe.


Tim. You have done our pleafures very much grace, fair Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, Which was not half fo beautiful and kind: You've added worth unto't, and lively luftre, And entertain'd me with mine own device. I am to thank you for it.

Luc. My Lord, you take us even at the best.

Apem. Faith for the worft is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you. Please

you to difpofe your felves.

All La. Moft thankfully, my Lord.

Tim. Flavius!

Flav. My Lord.

Tim. The little casket bring me hither.


Flav. Yes, my Lord. More jewels yet? there is no troffing him in's humour,

Elfe I fhould tell him

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well-i' faith, I fhould,

When all's fpent, he'd be crofs'd then if he could:

'Tis pity bounty has not eyes behind,

That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.


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Tim. O my good friends!

I have one word to fay to you: look, my Lord,
I must entreat you, honour me fo much

As to advance this jewel, accept, and wear it,
Kind Lord!

Luc. 1 am fo far already in your gifts

All. So are we all.

[Exe. Lucius and Lucullus, SCENE VII. Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord, there are certain Nobles of the Senate newly alighted, and come to vifit you.

Tim. They are fairly welcome.

Re-enter Flavius.

Flav. I befeech your Honour, vouchfafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Tim. Me near? why then another time I'll hear thee. I pr'ythee let's be provided to thew them entertainment. Flav. I fcarce know how.

Enter another Servant.

2 Ser. May it please your Honour, Lord Lucius, out of his free love, hath prefented to you four milk-white horses trapt in filver.

Tim. I fhall accept them fairly: let the prefents Be worthily entertain'd.

Enter a third Servant.

How now? what news?

3 Ser. Pleafe you, my Lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has fent your Honour two brace of grey-hounds.

Tim. I'll hunt with him; and let them be received, Not without fair reward.

Flav. What will this come to?

Here he commands us to provide, and give
Great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer:
Nor will he know his purfe, or yield me this,
To fhew him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no pow'r to make his wishes good;
His promifes fly fo beyond his ftate,

That what he fpeaks is all in debt, he owes


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