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• Timon of Athens: Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Athens. a Hall Intimon’shouse.
• Scene II.—: The Same. a Room of State Intimon’shouse.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Athens. a Room In a Senator’s House.
• Scene II.—: The Same. a Hall Intimon’shouse.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Athens. a Room Inlucullus’ House.
• Scene II.—: The Same. a Public Place.
• Scene III.—: The Same. a Room Insempronius’shouse.
• Scene IV.—: The Same. a Hall Intimon’shouse.
• Scene V.—: The Same. the Senate House.
• Scene VI.—: The Same. a Room of State Intimon’shouse.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Without the Walls of Athens
• Scene II.—: Athens. a Room Intimon’shouse.
• Scene III.—: Woods and Cave Near the Sea-shore.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Woods. Beforetimon’scave.
• Scene II.—: Before the Walls of Athens.
• Scene III.—: The Woods.timon’scave, and a Rude Tomb Seen.
• Scene IV.—: Before the Walls of Athens.

ACT I.

Scene I.—

Athens. A Hall inTimon’sHouse.

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Others, at several doors.

Poet.

Good day, sir.

Pain.

I am glad you’re well.

Poet.

I have not seen you long. How goes the world?

Pain.

It wears, sir, as it grows.

Poet.

Ay, that’s well known;

But what particular rarity? what strange,

Which manifold record not matches? See,

Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power

Hath conjur’d to attend. I know the merchant.

Pain.

I know them both; th’ other’s a jeweller.

Mer.

O! ’tis a worthy lord.

Jew.

Nay, that’s most fix’d.

Mer.

A most incomparable man, breath’d, as it were,

To an untirable and continuate goodness:

He passes.

Jew.

I have a jewel here—

Mer.

O! pray, let’s see ’t: for the Lord Timon, sir?

Jew.

If he will touch the estimate: but, for that—

Poet.

When we for recompense have prais’d the vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse

Which aptly sings the good.

Mer.

[Looking at the jewel.] ’Tis a good form.

Jew.

And rich: here is a water, look ye.

Pain.

You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication

To the great lord.

Poet.

A thing slipp’d idly from me.

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes

From whence ’tis nourish’d: the fire i’ the flint

Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame

Provokes itself, and, like the current flies

Each bound it chafes. What have you there?

Pain.

A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?

Poet.

Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.

Let’s see your piece.

Pain.

’Tis a good piece.

Poet.

So ’tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Pain.

Indifferent.

Poet.

Admirable! How this grace

Speaks his own standing! what a mental power

This eye shoots forth! how big imagination

Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture

One might interpret.

Pain.

It is a pretty mocking of the life.

Here is a touch; is ’t good?

Poet.

I’ll say of it,

It tutors nature: artificial strife

Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, who pass over the stage.

Pain.

How this lord is follow’d!

Poet.

The senators of Athens: happy man!

Pain.

Look, more!

Poet.

You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shap’d out a man,

Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug

With amplest entertainment: my free drift

Halts not particularly, but moves itself

In a wide sea of wax: no levell’d malice

Infects one comma in the course I hold;

But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,

Leaving no tract behind.

Pain.

How shall I understand you?

Poet.

I will unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds—

As well of glib and slippery creatures as

Of grave and austere quality—tender down

Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,

Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,

Subdues and properties to his love and tendance

All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac’d flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better

Than to abhor himself: even he drops down

The knee before him and returns in peace

Most rich in Timon’s nod.

Pain.

I saw them speak together.

Poet.

Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill

Feign’d Fortune to be thron’d: the base o’ the mount

Is rank’d with all deserts, all kind of natures,

That labour on the bosom of this sphere

To propagate their states: amongst them all,

Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix’d,

One do I personate of Lord Timon’s frame,

Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;

Whose present grace to present slaves and servants

Translates his rivals.

Pain.

’Tis conceiv’d to scope.

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,

With one man beckon’d from the rest below,

Bowing his head against the steepy mount

To climb his happiness, would be well express’d

In our condition.

Poet.

Nay, sir, but hear me on.

All those which were his fellows but of late,

Some better than his value, on the moment

Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,

Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him

Drink the free air.

Pain.

Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet.

When Fortune in her shift and change of mood

Spurns down her late belov’d, all his dependants

Which labour’d after him to the mountain’s top

Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,

Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain.

’Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show

That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune’s

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well

To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen

The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. EnterLord Timon,addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger fromVentidiustalking with him,Luciliusand other servants following.

Tim.

Imprison’d is he, say you?

Mess.

Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,

His means most short, his creditors most strait:

Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which, failing,

Periods his comfort.

Tim.

Noble Ventidius! Well;

I am not of that feather to shake off

My friend when he must need me. I do know him

A gentleman that well deserves a help,

Which he shall have: I’ll pay the debt and free him.

Mess.

Your lordship ever binds him.

Tim.

Commend me to him. I will send his ransom;

And being enfranchis’d, bid him come to me.

’Tis not enough to help the feeble up,

But to support him after. Fare you well.

Mess.

All happiness to your honour.

[Exit.

Enter an Old Athenian.

Old Ath.

Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Tim.

Freely, good father.

Old Ath.

Thou hast a servant nam’d Lucilius.

Tim.

I have so: what of him?

Old Ath.

Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim.

Attends be here or no? Lucilius!

Luc.

Here, at your lordship’s service.

Old Ath.

This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man

That from my first have been inclin’d to thrift,

And my estate deserves an heir more rais’d

Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim.

Well; what further?

Old Ath.

One only daughter have I, no kin else,

On whom I may confer what I have got:

The maid is fair, o’ the youngest for a bride,

And I have bred her at my dearest cost

In qualities of the best. This man of thine

Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,

Join with me to forbid him her resort;

Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.

The man is honest.

Old Ath.

Therefore he will be, Timon:

His honesty rewards him in itself;

It must not bear my daughter.

Tim.

Does she love him?

Old Ath.

She is young and apt:

Our own precedent passions do instruct us

What levity’s in youth.

Tim.

[ToLucilius.] Love you the maid?

Luc.

Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

Old Ath.

If in her marriage my consent be missing,

I call the gods to witness, I will choose

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,

And dispossess her all.

Tim.

How shall she be endow’d,

If she be mated with an equal husband?

Old Ath.

Three talents on the present; in future, all.

Tim.

This gentleman of mine hath serv’d me long:

To build his fortune I will strain a little,

For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter;

What you bestow, in him I’ll counterpoise,

And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath.

Most noble lord,

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

Tim.

My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Luc.

Humbly I thank your lordship: never may

That state or fortune fall into my keeping

Which is not ow’d to you!

[ExeuntLuciliusand Old Athenian.

Poet.

Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

Tim.

I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:

Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

Pain.

A piece of painting, which I do beseech

Your lordship to accept.

Tim.

Painting is welcome.

The painting is almost the natural man;

For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature,

He is but outside: these pencil’d figures are

Even such as they give out. I like your work;

And you shall find I like it: wait attendance

Till you hear further from me.

Pain.

The gods preserve you!

Tim.

Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;

We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel

Hath suffer’d under praise.

Jew.

What, my lord! dispraise?

Tim.

A mere satiety of commendations.

If I should pay you for ’t as ’tis extoll’d,

It would unclew me quite.

Jew.

My lord, ’tis rated

As those which sell would give: but you well know,

Things of like value, differing in the owners,

Are prized by their masters. Believe ’t, dear lord,

You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Tim.

Well mock’d.

Mer.

No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,

Which all men speak with him.

Tim.

Look, who comes here. Will you be chid?

EnterApemantus.

Jew.

We’ll bear, with your lordship.

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’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’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 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.

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!

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Servant.

Tim.

What trumpet’s that?

Serv.

’Tis Alcihiades, 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 thanked you; when dinner’s done,

Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

EnterAlciblades,with his Company.

Most welcome, sir!

Apem.

So, so, there!

Aches contract and starve your supple joints!

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

And all this courtesy! 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 exceptApemantus.

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 more accursed thou, that still omitt’st it.

Sec. Lord.

Thou art going to Lord Timon’s feast?

Apem.

Ay; to see meat fill khaves 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 of an 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.

I’ll keep you company.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.—

The Same. A Room of State inTimon’sHouse.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in;Flaviusand Others attending: then enterLord Timon, Alcibiades, Lords, and Senators, Ventidiusand Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all,Apemantusdiscontentedly, like himself.

Ven.

Most honour’d Timon,

It hath pleas’d the gods to 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 deriv’d 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 onTimon.

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.

Apem.

No,

You shall not make me welcome:

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

Tim.

Fie! thou’rt a churl; ye’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.

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 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; ’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: ’t has been prov’d.

If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;

Lest they should spy my wind-pipe’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.

• 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.

[Eats and drinks.

Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

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 ’em: 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.

First 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.

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 not you 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 ne’er have need of ’em? they were the most needless creatures living should we ne’er have use for ’em, 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? O! 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.

Sec. 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.

Third Lord.

I promise you, my lord, you mov’d me much.

Apem.

Much!

[Tucket sounded.

Tim.

What means that trump?

Enter a Servant.

How now!

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.

EnterCupid.

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. Th’ ear,

Taste, touch, smell, pleas’d from thy table rise;

They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim.

They are welcome all; let ’em have kind admittance:

Music, make their welcome!

[ExitCupid.

First Lord.

You see, my lord, how ample you’re belov’d.

Music. Re-enterCupid,with a masque of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing.

Apem.

Hoy-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,

With poisonous spite and envy.

Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves?

Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves

Of their friend’s gift?

I should fear those that dance before me now

Would one day stamp upon me: it has been done;

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

The Lords rise from table, with much adoring ofTimon;and to show their loves each singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.

Tim.

You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,

Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,

Which was not half so beautiful and kind;

You have added worth unto ’t and lustre,

And entertain’d me with mine own device;

I am to thank you for ’t.

First Lady.

My lord, you take us even at the best.

Apem.

Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold taking, I doubt me.

Tim.

Ladies, there is an idle banquet

Attends you: please you to dispose yourselves.

All Lad.

Most thankfully, my lord.

[ExeuntCupidand Ladies.

Tim.

Flavius!

Flav.

My lord!

Tim.

The little casket bring me hither.

Flav.

Yes, my lord. [Aside.] More jewels yet!

There is no crossing him in ’s humour;

Else I should tell him well, i’ faith, I should,

When all’s spent, he’d be cross’d then, an he could.

’Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,

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

[Exit.

First Lord.

Where be our men?

Serv.

Here, my lord, in readiness.

Sec. Lord.

Our horses!

Re-enterFlaviuswith the Casket.

Tim.

O, my friends! I have one word to say to you;

Look you, my good lord,

I must entreat you, honour me so much

As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it,

Kind my lord.

First Lord.

I am so far already in your gifts—

All.

So are we all.

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.

Flav.

I beseech your honour,

Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Tim.

Near! why then another time I’ll hear thee.

I prithee, let’s be provided to show them entertainment.

Flav.

[Aside.] I scarce know how.

Enter another Servant.

Sec. Serv.

May it please your honour, Lord Lucius,

Out of his free love, hath presented to you

Four milk-white horses, trapp’d in silver.

Tim.

I shall accept them fairly; let the presents

Be worthily entertain’d.

Enter a third Servant.

How now! what news?

Third 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 greyhounds.

Tim.

I’ll hunt with him; and let them be receiv’d,

Not without fair reward.

Flav.

[Aside.] 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 show 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 every word: he is so kind that he now

Pays interest for’t; his land’s put to their books.

Well, would I were gently put out of office

Before I were forc’d out!

Happier he that has no friend to feed

Than such as 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.

Sec. Lord.

With more than common thanks I will receive it.

Third Lord.

O! he’s 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: it is yours, because you lik’d it.

Third Lord.

O! 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 tell you true. I’ll call to you.

All Lords.

O! 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.

Alcib.

Ay, defil’d land, my lord.

First Lord.

We are so virtuously bound,—

Tim.

And so

Am I to you.

Sec. Lord.

So infinitely endear’d,—

Tim.

All to you. Lights, more lights!

First Lord.

The best of happiness,

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

Tim.

Ready for his friends.

[ExeuntAlcibiades, Lords, &c.

Apem.

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 curtsies.

Tim.

Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,

I would be good to thee.

Apem.

No, I’ll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest 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. Farewell; and come with better music.

[Exit.

Apem.

So:

Thou wilt 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.