1.Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it

Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not? Timo. O Apermantus, you are welcome

Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome: I come to haue thee thrust me out of doores

Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour there Does not become a man, 'tis much too blame: They say my Lords, Ira furor breuis est, But yond man is verie angrie. Go, let him haue a Table by himselfe: For he does neither affect companie, Nor is he fit for't indeed

Aper. Let me stay at thine apperill Timon, I come to obserue, I giue thee warning on't

Tim. I take no heede of thee: Th'art an Athenian, therefore welcome: I my selfe would haue no power, prythee let my meate make thee silent

Aper. I scorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I should nere flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not? It greeues me to see so many dip there meate in one mans blood, and all the madnesse is, he cheeres them vp too. I wonder men dare trust themselues with men. Me thinks they should enuite them without kniues, Good for there meate, and safer for their liues. There's much example for't, the fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a diuided draught: is the readiest man to kill him. 'Tas beene proued, if I were a huge man I should feare to drinke at meales, least they should spie my wind-pipes dangerous noates, great men should drinke with harnesse on their throates

Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round

2.Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord

Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes his tides well, those healths will make thee and thy state looke ill, Timon. Heere's that which is too weake to be a sinner, Honest water, which nere left man i'th' mire: This and my food are equals, there's no ods, Feasts are to proud to giue thanks to the Gods.

Apermantus Grace.

Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe, I pray for no man but my selfe, Graunt I may neuer proue so fond, To trust man on his Oath or Bond. Or a Harlot for her weeping, Or a Dogge that seemes asleeping, Or a keeper with my freedome, Or my friends if I should need 'em. Amen. So fall too't: Richmen sin, and I eat root. Much good dich thy good heart, Apermantus Tim. Captaine, Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now

Alci. My heart is euer at your seruice, my Lord

Tim. You had rather be at a breakefast of Enemies, then a dinner of Friends

Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no meat like 'em, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast

Aper. Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemies then, that then thou might'st kill 'em: & bid me to 'em

1.Lord. Might we but haue that happinesse my Lord, that you would once vse our hearts, whereby we might expresse some part of our zeales, we should thinke our selues for euer perfect

Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods themselues haue prouided that I shall haue much helpe from you: how had you beene my Friends else. Why haue you that charitable title from thousands? Did not you chiefely belong to my heart? I haue told more of you to my selfe, then you can with modestie speake in your owne behalfe. And thus farre I confirme you. Oh you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any Friends; if we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the most needlesse Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vse for 'em? And would most resemble sweete Instruments hung vp in Cases, that keepes there sounds to themselues. Why I haue often wisht my selfe poorer, that I might come neerer to you: we are borne to do benefits. And what better or properer can we call our owne, then the riches of our Friends? Oh what a pretious comfort 'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, e'ne made away er't can be borne: mine eies cannot hold out water me thinks to forget their Faults. I drinke to you

The Life of Timon of Athens Page 06

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