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

Apem. Hey-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 friends' 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 of Timon; 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 lively lustre,
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. 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.

Tim. Flavius,

Flav. My lord.

[Exeunt Cupid, and Ladies.

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

There is no crossing him in his humour; [Aside.
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.2 [Exit, and returns with the casket.

1 Lord. Where be our men?

Serv.

2 Lord. Our horses.

Tim.

Here, my lord, in readiness.

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, and wear it, kind my lord.

1 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 pr'ythee, let us be provided

To show them entertainment.

Flav.

I scarce know how.

[Aside.

Enter another Servant.

2 Serv. May it please your honour, the lord Lucius,

Out of his free love, hath presented to you

(1) Shakspeare plays on the word crossed: alluding to the piece of silver money called a cross. (2) For his nobleness of soul.

Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.
Tim. I shall accept them fairly: let the presents

Enter a third Servant.

Be worthily entertain'd.-How now, what news? 3 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 re

ceiv'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 is he that has no friend to feed,
Than such as do even enemies exceed.

I bleed inwardly for my lord.

Tim.

(Exit.

You do yourselves 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 1 will receive it.

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

All Lords.

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, defiled land, my lord. 1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound,

Tim.

Am I to you.

Tim. All to you.2-Lights, more lights.

And so

2 Lord.

So infinitely endear'd,

The best of happiness,

1 Lord.

Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon! Tim. Ready for his friends.

[Exeunt Alcibiades, 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 court'sies. Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I'd be good to thee.

Apem. No, I'll nothing for, If I should be brib'd too, there would be none left To rail upon thee; and then thou would'st sin the faster.

(1) i. e. Could dispense them on every side with an ungrudging distribution, like that with which! could deal out cards.

(2) i. e. All happiness to you.
(3) Offering salutations.

thou

Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me,
Wilt give away thyself in paper shortly:
What need these feasts, pomps, and vain glories?
Tim.

An you begin to rail on society once,

am sworn, not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music.

Apem.

Nay,

[Exit. So;

Thou'lt 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.

ACT II.

SCENE I-The same. A room in a Senator's house. Enter a Senator, with papers in his

hand.

Sen. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to
Isidore

He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
Which makes it five and twenty.-Still in motion
Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog,
And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold:
If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more
Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight,
And able horses: No porter at his gate;
But rather one that smiles, and still invites
All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason
Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say!

(1) i. e. Be ruined by his securities entered into. (2) By his heaven he means good advice; the only thing by which he could be saved.