Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.

Whither art going?

To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

That's a deed thou'lt die for.

Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?

The best, for the innocence.

Wrought he not well that painted it?

He wrought better that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.

You're a dog.

Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?

Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

No; I eat not lords.

An thou shouldst, thou'ldst anger ladies.

O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

That's a lascivious apprehension.

So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.

How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus ?

Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.

What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!

How now, philosopher!

Thou liest.

Art not one?

Yes.

Then I lie not.

Art not a poet?

Yes.

Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.

That's not feigned; he is so.

Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.

What, thyself?

Ay.

Wherefore?

That I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?

Ay, Apemantus.

Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

If traffic do it, the gods do it.

Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee! Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.

What time o' day is't, Apemantus ?

Time to be honest.

That time serves still.

The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.

Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Why, Apemantus?

Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

Hang thyself!

No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass. [Exit.

Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame. They say, my lords, 'ira furor brevis est;' but yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is he fit for 't, indeed.

Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to observe; I give thee warning on 't.

I take no heed of thee; thou 'rt an Athenian, therefore welcome: I myself would have no power; prithee, let my meat make thee silent.

I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too.

There's much example for 't; the fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him: 't has been proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;

Flow this way! A brave fellow he keeps his tides well. Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:

Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.

So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em!

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.

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. O 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.

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

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

I pray, let them be admitted. Enter CUPID.

'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold taking, I doubt me.

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.

No, I'll nothing: for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly: what need these feasts, pomps and vain-glories?

Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music. [Exit.