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

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o'th' flatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a lord!

Tim. What would'ft do then, Apemantus?

Apem. Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thy felf?
Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had fo hungry a wit, to be a lord. Art thou not a Merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not! Mer. If Traffick do it, the Gods do it.

Apem. Traffick's thy God, and thy God confound thee!

Trumpets found. Enter a messenger.

Tim. What trumpet's that?

Mef. 'Tis Alcibiades, and fome twenty horfe
All of companionship.

Tim. Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us;
You must needs dine with me: go not you hence,
'Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done,
Shew me this piece. I'm joyful of your fights.

Enter Alcibiades with the reft.

Most welcome, Sir!

[Bowing and embracing. Apem. So, fo! Aches contract, and ftarve your fupple joints! that there fhould be fmall love amongst these fweet knaves, and all this courtefie! the ftrain of man's bred out into baboon and monkey.

Alc. You have fav'd my longing, and I feed

(5) That I had no angry Wit to be a Lord.] This Reading is abfurd, and unintelligible. But as I have reftor'd the Text, it is fatyrical enough of all Confcience, and to the Purpofe: viz. I would hate myself, for having no more Wit than to covet fo infignificant a Title. In the fame Senfe Shakespeare uses lean-witted, in his Richard 2d.

And thou a lunatick, lean-witted, Fool.

P 4

Mr. Warburton.

Moft

Moft hungerly on your fight.

Tim. Right welcome, Sir.

E're we do part, we'll fhare a bounteous time (6)

In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

[Exeunt.

Manet Apemantus. Enter Lucius and Lucullus.
Luc. What time a day is't, Apemantus?
Apem. Time to be honest.

Luc. That time ferves ftill.

Apem. The most accurfed thou, that ftill omitt'st it.
Lucul. Thou art going to lord Timon's feat.

Apem. Ay, to fee meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.
Lucul. Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewel twice.
Lucul. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Thou fhould'ft have kept one to thy felf, for I mean to give thee none.

Luc. Hang thy felf.

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

Lucul. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll fpurn thee hence.

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o'th' afs.
Luc. He's oppofite to humanity.

Come, fhall we in, and tafte lord Timon's bounty?
He, fure, outgoes the very heart of kindness.

Lucul. He pours it out. Plutus, the God of gold,
Is but his Steward: no meed but he repays
Seven-fold above it felf; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a Return exceeding
All ufe of quittance.

Luc. The nobleft mind he carries,

That ever govern'd man.

Lucul. Long may he live in fortunes! fhall we in?
Luc. I'll keep you company.

[Exeunt.

(6) E're we depart, -] Tho the Editions concur in this Reading, it is certainly faulty. Who depart? Tho Alcibiades was to leave Timon, Timon was not to depart from his own House. Common Sense favours my Emendation.

SCENE,

SCENE, another Apartment in Timon's House.

Hautboys playing, loud mufick. A great banquet ferv'd in; and then enter Timon, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius, and other Athenian fenators, with Ventidius. Then comes dropping after all, Apemantus difcontentedly.

Ven.

OST honour'd Timon, it hath pleas'd the Gods
To call my father's age unto 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 fervice, from whofe help
I deriv'd liberty.

Tim. O, by no means,

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 muft 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 confest it.
Apem. Ho, ho, confeft it? hang'd it,
Tim. O Apemantus, you are welcome.

[They fit down.

have you not?

Apem. No; you shall not make me welcome. I come

to have thee thruft me out of doors.

Tim. Fie, th'art a churle; 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, let him have a table by himself:

For he does neither affect company,

Nor is he fit for't, indeed.

Apem.

Apem. Let me ftay at thy peril, Timon; I come to obferve, I give thee warning on't.

Tim. I take no heed of thee; th'art an Athenian, therefore welcome; I my self 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 '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 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 th' readieft man to kill him. 'Thas been prov'd.
Were I a Great man, I should fear, to drink,

go round.

Left 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 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 ftate 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 truft 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, 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 been 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 feast. Apem. Would all these flatterers were thine enemies. then; that thou might't kill 'em, and bid me to 'em!

Luc. Might we but have the happiness, my lord, that you would once ufe 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 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 moft resemble-sweet Inftruments hung up in cafes, that keep their founds to themselves. Why I have often wisht 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 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 inftant like a babe fprung 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