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For ev'ry word: he is so kind, that he
[Exit. Tim. You do your selves much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits. Here, my Lord, a trife of our love.
í Lord. With more than common thanks I will receive it.
3 Lord. He has the very foul of bounty.
Tim. And now I remember, my Lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. 'Tis yours, because you likid it.
2 Lord. Oh, I beseech you, pardon me, my Lord, in that
Tim. You may take my word, my Lord: I know no man can juftly praise, but what he does affect : I weigh my friends affection with my own, I tell you true: I'll
call on you.
All Lords. O, none so welcome.
Tim. I take all, and your several visitations
3 Lord. The best of happiness, honour and fortunes, Keep you, Lord Timon Tim. Ready for his friends,
[Exeunt Lords. SCENE VIII. Apem. What a coil's here, Screwing of backs, and jutting out of bums ! I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
That are giv'n for 'em. Friendship’s full of dregs;
Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
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 wouldft fin the faster. Thou giv'ft so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thy self in perpetuum shortly. What need these feasts, pomps, and vain-glories ?
Tim. Nay, if you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewel, and come with better musick,
[Exit. Apem. So--thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then. I'll lock the heaven from thee. Oh, that men's ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!
(Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. A publick place in the City.
Enter a Senator. Sen. ND late five thousand : to Varro and to Ifidore
He owes nine thousand, besides my former sum ;
Sen. Get on your cloak, and halte you to Lord Timon;
Commend me to your master
and the cap Play'ng in the right hand, - thus but tell him, firrah, My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own; his days and times are past, And my reliance on his frácted dates Has smit my credit. I love and honour him ; But must not break my back, to heal bis finger, Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone. Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand : for I do fear, When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Who flashes now a Phenix get you gonea
Cap. I go, Sir.
Sen. Ay go, Sir: take the bonds along with you,
Cap. I will, Sir.
[Exeunt. SCENE II. Timon's Hall.
Enter Flavius, with many Bills in bis band. Flav. No care, no fop, so ienietess of expence, That he will neither know how to maintain it, Nor cease his flow of riot; takes no account How things go from him, and resumes no care Of what is to continue : never mind Was, to be so unwise, to be so kind. What shall be done ? he will not hear, 'till feel : I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting, Fie, fie, fie, fie.
Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro *. Cap. Good evening, Varro ; what, you come for mony? Var. Is't not your business too ? Cap. It is; and yours too, Ifidore? Ifid. It is fo. Cap. Would we were all discharg'd! * The two laft are but Servants to Ifidore and Varro, here call'd by their Matters names as is usual among Servants with one another.
Var, I fear it.
Enter Timon, and bis Train.
[They present their Bills,
Tim. Mine honest friend,
Cap. Nay, good my Lord.
Tim, Give me breath :
Flav. Please you, gentlemen,
Tim. Do so, my friends ; see them well entertain'd.
[Exit Timon, Flav, Pray draw near.
[Exit Flavius, SCENE III. Enter Apemantus and Fool. Cap. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus, let's have some sport with 'em.
Var. Hang him, he'll abuse us.
Apem. He last ask'd the question. Poor rogues, and afurers men! bawds between gold and want !
All. What are we, Apemantus?
Apem. That you ask me what you are, and do not know your selves. Speak to 'em, fool.
Fool. How do you, gentlemen ?
Fool. She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corintb.' Apem. Good ! gramercy!
Enter Page. Fool. Look
here comes my Page. Why, how now, captain ? what do you in this wise company ? how dost thou, Apemantus ?
Apem. Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.
Page. Pr’ythee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters; I know not which is which,
Apem. Canft pot read ?
Apem. There will little learning die then, that day thou art hang’d. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thou'lt die a bawd.