told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we fhould never have need of them? they were the most needlefs creatures living, fhould we ne'er have ufe for them: and would most resemble fweet inftruments hung up in cafes, that keep their founds to themfelves. Why, I have often wifh'd 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 fo many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Ape. Thou weep?ft to make them drink, Timon. 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that inftant, like a babe sprung ug. Ape. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a baf

tard.

3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me Ape. Much. [much.

Sound Tucket.

Tim. What means this trump?-How now?

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies moft defirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies? What are their wills?

Serv. There comes with them a fore-runner, my

C

lord,

lord, which bears that office, to fignify their plea fures.

Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.

Enter Cupid.

Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon;—and to all That of his bounties tafte!The five beft fenfes Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely To congratulate thy plenteous bofom:

The ear, tafte, touch, fmell, pleas'd from thy table rife;

They only now come but to feast thine eyes. Tim. They are welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:

Mufick, make their welcome.

[Exit Cupid. 1 Lord. You fee, my lord, how ample you are

belov'd.

Mufick. Re-enter Cupid, with a Mafque of Ladies as Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing, and playing,

Ape. Heyday! 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 oil, and root. We make ourselves fools, to difport ourselves; 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 should fear, thofe, that dance before me now,

Would

Would one day ftamp upon me: It has been done; Men fhut their doors against a fetting fun.

The Lords rife from Table, with much adoring of Timon; and, to shew their Loves, each fingles out an Amazon, and all dance, Men with Women; a lofty Strain or two to the Hautboys, and ceafe.

Tim. You have done our pleafures 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 lively luftre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device;
I am to thank

you for it.

1 Lady. My lord, you take us even at the best. Ape. 'Faith, for the worft is filthy; and would Taking, I doubt me. [not hold Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you. Please you to difpofe yourselves.

All Lad. Moft thankfully, my lord.

Tim. Flavius.--

Flav. My lord.

Tim. The little cafket bring me hither.
Flav. Yes, my lord.-More jewels yet!

[Exeunt

There is no croffing him in his humour; [Afide. Elfe I fhould tell him,-Well,-i'faith, I fhould, When all's spent, he'd be crofs'd then, an he could. 'Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind;

That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind. [Exit, and returns with the Cafket.

1 Lord. Where be you men?

Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness.

2 Lord Our horfes.

Tim, O, my friends, I have one word

To fay to you:-Look you, my good lord, I muft
Entreat you, honour me so much, as to
Advance this jewel; accept, and wear it, kind my
1 Lord. I am fo far already in your gifts,- [lord.
All. So are we all.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, there are certain nobles of the Newly alighted, and come to vifit yon. Tim. They are fairly welcome.

Flav. I beseech your honour,

[fenate

Vouchfafe me a word; it doth concern you near. Tim. Near? why then another time I'll hear thee: I pr'ythee, let us be provided

To fhew them entertainment.

Flav. [Afide.] I fcarce know how.

Enter another Servant.

2 Serv. May it please you honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath prefented to you Four milk-white horfes, trapt in filver.

Tim. I fhall accept them fairly: let the prefents Be worthily entertain'd.-How now? what news?

Enter a third Servant.

3 Serv. Pleafe you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him; and hath fent your honour two brace of greyhounds.

Tim. I'll hunt with him; And let them be receiv'd, Not without fair reward.

Fla. [Afide.] What will this come to? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer.

Nor

Nor will he know his purfe; or yield me this,
To fhew him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wifhes good:
His promifes fly fo beyond his state,

That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes
For every word; he is fo kind, that he now
Pays intereft for't; his lands put to their books,
Well, 'would I were gently put out of office,
Before I were forc'd out!

Happier is he that hath no friend to feed,
Than fuch that do even enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord.

[Exit.

Tim. You do yourfelves much wrong, you bate too much

Of your own merits :-Here, my lord; a trifle of our love.

2 Lord. With more than common thanks I will receive it.

3 Lord O, he is the very foul of bounty! Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you gave Good words the other day of a bay courfer I rode on it is yours, because you lik'd it.

2 Lord. O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, In that.

Tim. You may take my word, my lord; I know,

no man

Can juftly praife, but what he does affect:
I weigh my friend's affection with mine own:
I tell you true. I'll call on you.

All Lords. None fo welcome!

Tim. I take all and your several vifitations So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give; Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And ne'er be weary.—Alcibiades.

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Thou