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Lug Might we but have the 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. Oh, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I fhall have as much help from you: how had you been my friends elfe? why have you that charitable title from thoufands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modefty speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm you. O you gods, (think I,) what need we have any friends, if we fhould never have need of 'em? they would most refemble sweet inftruments hung up in cafes, that keep their founds to themselves. Why I have often wifht myfelf 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 fo many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere't can be born; mine eyes cannot hold water, methinks to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Apem. Thou weep'ft to make them drink, Timon. Lucul. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And at that inftant like a babe fprung up.

Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. 3 Lord. I promise you, my Lord, you mov'd me much. Apem. Much!

Sound Tucket.

Tim. What means that trump? how now?

Enter Servant.

Serv. Please you, my Lord, there are certain Ladies most defirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies? what are their wills?

Serv. There comes with them a fore-runner, my Lord, which bears that office to fignify their pleasures. Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.

Enter

Enter Cupid with a Mafque of Ladies, as Amazons.

Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all That of his bounties tafte! The five beft fenfes Acknowledge thee their patron; and do come Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bofom:

Th' ear, tafte, touch, fmell, pleas'd from thy table rife, (7). Thefe only now come but to feast thine eyes.

Tim. They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance. Let mufick make their welcome.

Luc. You fee, my Lord, how amply you're belov❜d. Apem. Hoyday! what a fweep of vanity comes this way!! They dance, they are mad women.

Like madness is the glory of this life;

As this pomp fhews to a little oil and root.
We make ourselves fools, to difport ourselves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink thofe men,
Upon whofe age we void it up again,

With poisonous fpight and envy

Who lives, that's not depraved or depraves?
Who dies, that bears not one fpurn to their graves-
Of their friends gift ?-

I fhould fear, thofe, that dance before me now,
Would one day ftamp upon me: 'T has been done;
Men fhut their doors against the fetting fun.

The Lords rife from table, with much adoring of Timon;
each fingling out an Amazon, and all dance, men with
women; a lofty ftrain or two to the hautboys, and cease.
Tim. You have done our pleasures much grace, fair
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
[Ladies,

(7) There tafte, touch, all, pleas'd from thy table rife: They only now] The incomparable emendation, with which the text is here fupply'd, I owe to my ingenious friend Mr. Warburton. The five fenfes, as he obferves, are talk'd of by Cupid, but only three of them made out; and those in a very heavy, unintelligible manner. But now you have them all, and the poet's fenfe, compleat, viz. The five fenfes, Timon, acknowledge thee their patron; four of them, the hearing, the touch, the taste, and fmell, are all regaled at your board; and thefe Ladies come with me to entertain your fight, in prefenting a mafque.

Which was not half so beautiful and kind :
You've added worth unto't, and lively luftre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device.
I am to thank you for it.

Luc. 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 difpofe yourselves.

All La. Moft thankfully, my Lord.

Tim. Flavius?

Flav. My Lord.

Tim. The little cafket bring me hither.

[Exeunt.

Flav. Yes, my Lord. More jewels yet? there is no croffing him in's humour,

Elfe I fhould tell him-well-i'faith, I fhould,

When all's spent, he'd be crofs'd then if he could: (8). "Tis pity, bounty has not eyes behind;

That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.

Luc. Where be our men?

(8)-be'd be cross'd then if he could :] The poet does not mean here, he would be crofs'd, or thwarted in humour; but that he would have his hand crofs'd, as we fay, with money, if he could. He is playing on the word, and alluding to our old filver-penny, ufed, before K. Edward the 1ft his time, which had a crofs on the reverse with a crease, that it might be more eafily broke into halves and quarters, balf-pence and farthings. From this penny, and other fubfequent pieces that bore the like imprefs,, was our common expreffion deriv'd, I bave not a cross about me; i. e. not a piece of money. I thought, this note might not be unneceffary, because it ferves to explain feveral other paffages, where the poet has punn'd on this term. For inftance, in the 2d part of Henry IVth. Falstaffe afking the Lord Chief Fuftice to lend him a thousand pounds, he replies;

Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. In Love's Labour loft;

Arm. I love not to be cross'd.

Moth. He fpeaks the clean contrary::

Croffes love not him.

And in As you like it ;

Clown. --Yet I fhould bear no cross, if I did bear you: for, I think, you have no money in your purse.

In all which places, 'tis clear, that money is fignified by the word

eroffes.

Serv. Here, my Lord, in readiness.
Lucul. Our horfes.

Tim. O my good friends!

I have one word to fay to you; look, my Lord,
I must entreat you, honour me fo much

As to advance this jewel, accept, and wear it,
Kind my Lord!

Luc. I am fo far already in your gifts

All. So are we all.

[Exe. Lucius and Lucullus.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My Lord, there are certain nobles of the fenate newly alighted, and come to vifit you.

Tim. They are fairly welcome.

Re-enter Flavius.

Flav. I beseech your honour, vouchfafe 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 fhew them entertainment. Flav. I fcarce know how.

Enter another Servant.

2 Serv. May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, out of his free love, hath prefented to you four milk-white horfes trapt in filver.

Tim. I fhall accept them fairly: let the presents Be worthily entertain'd.

Enter a third Servant.

How now what news?

3 Serv. Pleafe you, my Lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has fent your honour two brace of grey- -hounds.

Tim. I'll hunt with him; and let them be received, not without fair reward.

Flav. 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,

Το

To fhew him what a beggar his heart is,

Being of no power to make his wishes good;

His promifes fly fo beyond his ftate,

That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes for ev'ry word: '
He is fo kind that he pays intereft for❜t:

His land's put to their books. Well, would I were
Gently put out of office, ere I were forc'd.
Happier is he that has no friend to feed,
Than fuch that do e'en 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.

1 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 courfer I rode on. 'Tis yours, because you lik'd 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 praife, but what he does affect. I weigh my friends affection with my own; I'll tell you true, I'll call on you.

All Lords. O, none so welcome.

Tim. I take all, and your feveral vifitations
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 foldier, therefore seldom rich,
It comes in charity to thee; thy living

Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lye in a pitcht field.

Alc. I defy land, my Lord.

1 Lord. We are fo virtuously boundTim. And fo am I to you.

2 Lord. So infinitely endear'd

Tim. All to you. Lights! more lights, more lights. 3 Lord. The best of happiness, honour and fortunes, Keep with you, Lord Timon

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