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

They say, my lords, that Ira furor brevis eft,

But yonder man is ever angry.

Go, let him have a table by himself:

For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for't indeed.

Apem. Let me ftay at thy peril, Timon: I come to observe, 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 should ne'er flatter thee. O you gods! what a number of men eat Timon, and he fees 'em 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 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 th' readiest man to kill him. 'Thas been prov'd.
Were I a great man, I should fear to drink,
Left they should spy my wind-pipes dangerous notes:
Great men fhould drink with harness 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; those healths will make thee and thy ftate look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to be a finner, honest water, which

VOL. V.

C

ne'er

ne'er left man i'th' mire:

This and my food are equal, 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 my self;
Grant I may never prove fo fond,
To truft man on his oath or bond;
Or a harlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that feems a fleeping,
Or a keeper with my freedom,
Or my friends if I fhould need 'em.
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 service, my lord.

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

Alc. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's no meat like 'em. I could wish my friend at fuch a feast.

Apem. Would all these flatterers were thine enemies then; that then thou might'st 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 express some part of our zeals, we should think our felves for ever perfect.

Tim. Oh no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themfelves have provided that I fhall have as much help from you: how had you been my friends elfe? why have you that charitable title from thousands? did not you 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 should never have need of 'em? they would most resemble 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 so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere't can be born; mine eyes cannot hold water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Apem. Thou weep'ft to make them drink, Timon.
Lucul. 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 promife you, my lord, you mov'd me much. Apem. Much!

Sound Tucket.

Tim. What means that trump? how now?

Enter fervant.

Ser. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most 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.

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 bofom.

There taste, touch, all, pleas'd from thy table rife:

They 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! 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 fhews to a little oyl and root.

We make our felves fools, to difport our selves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,
Upon whofe age we void it up again,
With poisonous fpight 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 should fear, those that dance before me now,

Would one day stamp upon me: 'Thas been done;
Men shut their doors against a setting fun.

The lords rife from table, with much adoring of Timon, each fingles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty ftrain 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

Which was not half fo beautiful and kind:
You've added worth unto't, and lively lustre,
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 worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you. Please you to dispose your selves.

All La. Moft thankfully, my lord.

Tim. Flavius?

Flav. My lord.

Tim. The little casket bring me hither.

[Exeunt.

Flav. Yes, my lord. More jewels yet? there is no croffing

him in's humour,

Elfe I fhould tell him

well-i'faith I fhould,

When all's spent, 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.

Luc. Where be our men?

Ser. Here, my lord, in readiness.

Lucul. Our horfes.

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 my lord!

Luc. I am so far already in your gifts-
All. So are we all.

[Exe. Lucius and Lucullus.

SCENE