I have, in this rough work, shaped 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 levelled 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?
Poel. 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-faced 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. 'Tis conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckoned from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressed 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 beloved, all his dependents, Which laboured after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

To build his fortune I will strain a little,
For 't is a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

Most noble lord,

Old Ath.
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 owed to you!

[Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

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 are 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 apprehend'st it: take it for thy

fill I have thanked you; and, when dinner's done,

SCENE II. The same.

2nd Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

2nd Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice. 2nd Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

1st Lord. Hang thyself. Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend.

2nd Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. [Exit.

1st Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The
very heart of kindness.

2nd 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.

The noblest mind he carries

1st Lord. That ever governed man.

2nd Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

1st Lord. I'll keep you company. [Exeunt.

A Room of State in TIMON'S House.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet
served in; FLAVIUS and others attending: then
enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS,
SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with
VENTIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, drop-
ping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.
Ven. Most honoured Timon, it hath pleased 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 derived liberty.

Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame.—
They say, my lords, "Ira furor brevis est,"
But yond' man's 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 art an Athenian; therefore welcome. I myself would have no power: pr'y thee, let my meat make thee silent. Apem. I scorn thy meat! 't would 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: it has been proved.
IfI were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals,
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous

notes:

Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

2nd Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord. Apem. Flow this way!

A brave fellow! he keep his tides well. Timon, Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill. 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.

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 them; 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.

1st 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,