I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, Pain. How shall I understand you? Of grave and austere quality), tender down 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? 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 labour. Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apem. Not so well as plain dealing, which will fill I have thanked you; and, when dinner's done, SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in TIMON'S House. Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet My father's age, and call him to long peace. Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame.- 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 I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been proved. 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. ហហហហហហ Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! 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. 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? Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine why have you that charitable title from thousands, |