Imagens das páginas

mies then, that then thou might'st kill 'em, and bid me to 'em.

1 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, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. 0, you gods! think I, what need we have any friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for 'em; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished 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 so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes. O joy e'en made away ere 't can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Apem, Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon.

2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our

eyes, And at that instant like a babe sprung up.

Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you moved me


Apem. Much! [Tucket sounded.

Tim. What means that trump ? — How now!

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies! What are their wills?

Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office to signify their pleasures.

Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.

Enter Cupid.

Cupid. Hail to thee, worthy Timon; and to all That of his bounties taste!—The five best sensjs Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. The ear, Taste, touch, smell, pleas'd from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim. They're welcome all. Let them have kind admittance; Music, make their welcome. [Exit Cupid.

1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample y' are belov'd.

Music. 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 cornea this way! They dance! they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shews 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 friend's gift?

I should fear, those, that dance before me now,

Would one day stamp upon me: 't 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 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 Ladies. Most thankfully, my lord.

[Exeunt Cupid, and Ladies. Tim. Flavius! Flavius. My lord.

Tim. The little casket bring me hither.

Flav. Yes, my lord. \_Aside.~] More jewels yet! There is no crossing him in's humour; 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.

[Exit, and returns with the casket.

1 Lord. Where be our men?
Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness.

2 Lord. Our horses!

Tim. O, my friends!

I have one word to say to you. Look you, my good

I must entreat you, honour me so much,
As to advance this jewel; accept it 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's be provided to shew them entertainment.

Flav. [Aside.-] I scarce know how.

Enter another Servant.

2 Serv. May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you

Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.

Tim. I shall accept them fairly: let the presents

Enter a third Servant.

Be wrorthily entertain'd. — How now! what news?

3 Serv. Please you, my lord, that honourable gen

tleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him; and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.

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

Flav. [Aside.~\ What will this come to?

Pie 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 shew 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 fee
Than such as do even enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit.

Tim. 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 I will

receive it.

3 Lord. O, he's the very soul of bounty.
Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you gave

Good words the other day of a bay courser
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 justly praise, but what he does affect:


« AnteriorContinuar »