University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Enter Melissa and Chloe.
What think'st thou Chloe? will this dress become me?

Chlo.
Oh, most exceedingly! This pretty curle
Does give you such a killing Grace, I swear
That all the Youth at the Lord Timon's Mask
Will die for you.

Mel.
No: But dost thou think so Chloe? I love
To make those Fellows die for me, and I
All the while look so scornfully, and then with my
Head on one side, with a languishing eye I do so
Kill 'em again: Prithee, what do they say of me,
Chloe?

Chlo.
Say! That you are the Queen of all their hearts,
Their Goddess, their Destiny, and talk of Cupids flames,
And darts, and Wounds! Oh the rarest language,
'Twould make one die to hear it; and ever now
And then steal some gold into my hand,
And then commend me too.

Mel.
Dear Soul, do they, and do they die for me?

Chlo.
Oh yes, the finest, properest Gentlemen—

Mel.
But there are not many that die for me? humh—

Chlo.
Oh yes, Lamachus, Theodorus, Thessalus, Eumolpides,
Memnon, and indeed all that see your Ladiship.

Mel.
I'le swear? how is my complexion to day? ha Chloe?

Chlo.
O most fragrant! 'tis a rare white wash this!

Mel.
I think it is the best I ever bought; had I not best
Lay on some more red Chloe?

Chlo.
A little more would do well; it makes you look
So pretty, and so plump, Madam.

Mel.
I have been too long this morning in dressing.

Chlo.
Oh no, I vow you have been but bare three hours.

Mel.
No more! well, if I were sure to be thus pretty but seven
Years, I'de be content to die then on that condition.

Chlo.
The gods forbid.

Mel.
I'le swear I would; but dost thou think Timon will
Like me in this dress?

Chlo.
Oh he dies for you in any dress, Madam!

Mel.
Oh this vile tailor that brought me not home my new
Habit to day; he deserves the Ostracisme! a Villain,
To disorder me so; I am afraid it has done harm
To my complexion: I have dreamt of it these two nights,
And shall not recover it this week—

Chlo.
Indeed Madam he deserves death from your eyes.

Mel.
I think I look pretty well? will not Timon
Perceive my disorder?—hah—

Chlo.
Oh no, but you speak as if you made this killing
Preparation for none but Timon.

Mel.
O yes, Chloe, for every one, I love to have all the
Young Blades follow, kiss my hand, admire, adore me,
And die for me: but I must have but one favour'd
Servant; it is the game and not the quarry, I
Must look after it in the rest.

Chlo.
Oh Lord, I would have as many admirers as I could.

Mel.
Ay so would I—but favour one alone.
No, I am resolv'd nothing shall corrupt my honesty;
Those admirers would make one a whore Chloe,
And that undoes us, 'tis our interest to be honest.

Chlo.
Would they? No I warrant you, I'de fain see
Any of those admirers make me a Whore.

Mel.
Timon loves me honestly and is rich—

Chlo.
You have forgot your Alcibiades:
He is the rarest person!

Mel.
No, no, I could love him dearly: oh he was the beautiful'st man,
The finest wit in Athens, the best companion, fullest of mirth
And pleasure, and the prettiest wayes he had to please Ladies,
He would make his enemies rejoyce to see him.

Chlo.
Why? he is all this, and can do all this still.

Mel.
Ay, but he has been long banish'd for breaking Mercuries
Images, and profaning the mysteries of Proserpine;
Besides, the people took his Estate from him,
And I hate a poor Fellow, from my heart I swear:
I vow methinks I look so pretty to day, I could
Kiss my self Chloe.

Chlo.
Oh dear Madam—I could look on you for ever: oh
What a world of murder you'l commit to day!

Mel.
Dost thou think so? ha! ha! no, no—

Enter a Servant.
Serv.
The Lord Timon's come to wait on you, and begs
Admittance.

Enter Timon.
Mel.
Desire his presence.

Tim.
There is enchantment in her looks,
Afresh I am wounded every time I see her:
All happiness to beautiful Melissa.

Mel.
I shall want none in you my dearest Lord.

Tim.
Sweetest of Creatures, in whom all th' excellence
Of heav'nly Woman-kind is seen unmixt;
Nature has wrought thy mettle up without allay.

Mel.
I have no value, but my love of you,
And that I am sure has no allay, 'tis of
So strong a temper, neither time nor death,
Nor any change can break it—

Tim.
Dear charming sweet, thy value is so great,
No Kingdom upon Earth should buy thee from me:
But I have still an enemy with you,
That guards me from my happiness; a Vow
Against the Law of Nature, against Love,
The best of Nature, and the highest Law.

Mel.
It will be but a week in force.

Tim.
'Tis a whole age: in all approaching joys,
The nearer they come to us, still the time
Seems longer to us: But my dear Melissa,
Why should we bind our selves with vows and oaths?
Alas, by Nature we are too much confin'd,
Our Liberties so narrow, that we need not
Find fetters for our selves: No, we should seize
On pleasure wheresoever we can find it,
Lest at another time we miss it there.

Chlo.
Madam, break your Vow, it was a rash one.

Mel.
Thou foolish Wench, I cannot get my things
In order till that time; dost think I will
Be marri'd like some vulgar Creature, which
Snatches at the first offer, as if she
Were desperate of having any other?

Tim.
Is there no hope that you will break your vow?

Mel.
If any thing, one word of yours wou'd do't:
But how can you be once secure, I'le keep
A vow to you, that would not to my self?

Tim.
Some dreadful accident may come Melissa
To interrupt our joyes; let us make sure
O'th' present minute, for the rest perhaps
May not be ours.

Mel.
It is not fit it shou'd, if I shou'd break a vow;
No, you shall never find a change in me,
All the sixt stars shall sooner stray
With an irregular motion, than I change:
This may assure you of my love, if not
Upon my knees I swear—
Were I the Queen of all the Universe,
And Timon were reduc'd to rags and misery,
I would not change my love to him.

Tim.
And here I vow,
Should all the frame of Nature be dissolv'd,
Should the firm Centre shake, should Earthquakes rage
With such a fury to disorder all
The peaceful and agreeing Elements,
Till they were huddled into their first Chaos,
As long as I could be, I'de be the same,
The same adorer of Melissa!

Mel.
This is so great a blessing Heav'n cann't add to it.

Tim.
Thou art my Heav'n, Melissa, the last mark
Of all my hopes and wishes, so I prize thee,
That I could die for thee.

Enter a Servant of Timons.
Serv.
My Lord, your dinner's ready, and your Lordships
Guests wait your wisht presence: the Lord
Nicias is already there.

Tim.
Let's hast to wait on him Melissa.

Mel.
It is my duty to my Father.

[Exeunt.
Enter Poet, Apemantus, Servants setting things in order for the Feast.
Poet.
His honour will soon be here, I have prepar'd the Maskers;
They are all ready.

Apem.

How now Poet? what piece of foppery hast thou to
present to Timon?

Poet.
Thou art a senceless snarling Stoick, and hast no taste of Poetry.

Apem.
Thy Poetrie's insipid, none can taste it:
Thou art a wordy foolish Scribler, who
Writ'st nothing but high-sounding frothy stuff;
Thou spread'st, and beat'st out thy poor little sence,
'Tis all leaf-gold, it has no weight in it.
Thou lov'st impertinent description,
And when thou hast a rapture, it is not
The sacred rapture of a Poet, but
Incoherent, extravagant, and unnatural,
Like mad-mens thoughts, and this thou call'st Poetical.

Poet.
You are judge! shall dull Philosophers judge
Of us the nimble fancies, and quick spirits
Of the Age?

Apem.
The Cox-combs of the Age:
Are there such eminent fopperies as in the
Poets of this time? their most unreasonable heads
Are whimsical, and fantastick as Fidlers,
They are the scorn and laughter of all witty men,
The folly of you makes the Art contemptible,
None of you have the judgement of a Gander.

Enter Ælius, Nicias, Phæax, and the other Senators.
Poet.
You are a base snarling Critick; write your
Self, do and you dare.

Apem.
I confess 'tis a daring piece of valour, for a man
Of sence to write to an Age that likes your spurious stuff.

Nici.
What time of the day is't, Apemantus?

Apem.
Time to be honest.

Ælius.
That time serves alwayes.

Apem.
Then what excuse hast thou, that would'st thus long
Omit it?

Isid.
You stay to be at the Lord Timons feast.

Apem.
Yes, to see Meat fill Knaves, and Wine heat Fools.

Cleon.
Well, fare thee well.

Apem.
Thou art an Ass to bid me farewell.

Cleon.
Why so?

Apem.
Because I have not so little reason or honesty to
Return thee one good wish for it.

Phæax.
Go hang thy self.

Apem.
I'le do nothing at thy bidding, make thy requests to
Thy friend, if there be such a wretch on earth.

Phæax.
Be gon, unpeaceable dog, or I will spurn thee from me.

Apem.
Though I am none, I'le fly like a dog the heels of
The Ass.

Nici.
He's opposite to all humanity—

Ælius.
Now we shall taste of Timons bounty.

Phæax.
He hath a heart brimful of kindness and good will.

Isid.
And pours it down on all his friends, as if Plutus
The god of Wealth were but his Steward.

Phæax.
No Meed but he repayes sev'n-fold above
Its self, no gift but breeds the giver such
Return as does exceed his wishes.

Thrasil.
He hears the noblest mind that ever govern'd man.

Phæax.
Long may he live with prosperous fortunes.
But I fear it—

Ælius.
I hear a whisper, as though he fails his Creditors,
Even of their interest.

Phæax.
I fear it is too true—well 'tis pity: but he's a good Lord!
Enter Timon with Melissa, Chloe, Nicias, and a great train with him.
Here he comes my Noble Lord.

Nici.
Most worthy Timon!

Ælius.
My most honour'd Lord.

Tim.
You over-joy me with your presence! is there
On Earth a sight so splendid, as Tables well
Fill'd with good and faithful friends, like you?
Dear Melissa! be pleas'd to know my friends:
Oh Apemantus! thou'rt welcome.

Apem.
No, thou shalt not make me welcome;
I come to tell thee truth, and if thou hear'st me not
I'le lock thy Heav'n from thee hereafter: think
On the ebb of your Estate, and flow of debts;
How many prodigal bits do slaves and flatterers gorge?
And now 'tis noble Timon, worthy Timon, royal Timon,
And when the means is gone that buyes this praise,
The breath is gone, whereof the praise is made.

Tim.
It is not so with my Estate.

Apem.
None are so honest to tell thee of thy vanities,
So the gods bless me.
When all your Offices have been opprest
With riotous feeders, when every Vault has wept
With drunken spilth of wine, when every room
Has blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with Minstrels,
Or roaring singing drunkards; I have retir'd
To my poor homely Cell, and set my eyes
At flow for thee, because I find something in
Thee that might be worthy—but as thou art I
Hate and scorn thee.

Tim.
Come, preach no more, had I no Estate, I
Am rich in Friends, my Noble Friends here,
The dearest loving Friends that ever man
Was blest with.

Nic.
Oh might we have an happy opportunity to show how
We love and honour you!

Ælius.
That you wou'd once but use our hearts.

Isand.
We'd lay 'em out all in your service.

Phæax.
Yes, all our selves, if you wou'd put us to a
Tryal, then we were perfect.

Tim.
I doubt it not, I know you'd serve me all;
Shall I distrust my Friends? I have often wisht
My self poorer that I might use you—We are
Born to do good one to another: Friends,
Unless we use 'em, are like sweet instruments hung
Up in cases: But oh, what a precious comfort
'Tis to have so many like Brothers, commanding
One anothers fortunes! Trust me, my joy brings water
To my eyes.

Phæax.
Joy had the like conception in my eyes.

Apem.
Ho, ho, ho—I laugh to think that it conceiv'd a
Bastard.

Tim.
What dost thou laugh for?

Apem.
To hear these smell-feasts lye and fawn so,
Not only flattering thee, but thy Mutton and thy Partridge.
These Flies, who at one cloud of winter-showers
Would drop from off you.

Cleon.
Silence, the Dog.

Phæax.
Let the snarling Cur be kickt out.

Apem.
Of what vile earth, of what mean dirt a Lord is
Kneaded!

Tim.
The man I think is honest, and his humor hurts us not.

Apem.
I would my reason wou'd do thee good, Timon.

Mel.
This is an odd snarling fellow; I like him.

Apem.
If I could without lying, I'de say the same of thee.

Mel.
Why? prethee what dost thou think of me?

Tim.
He'll snarl at thee.

Mel.
No matter.

Apem.
I think thou art a piece of white and red Earth,
The Picture of Vanity drawn to th'life;
I am thinking how handsome that Skull will
Be when all the Flesh is off; that face thou art
So proud of, is a poor vain, transitory thing,
And shortly will be good for nothing.

Mel.
Out on him, scurvy poor Fellow.

Tim.
No more of this, be not so sullen; I'l be kind
To thee and better thy Condition.

Apem.
No, I'll have nothing; should I be brib'd too,
There would be none left to rail at thee, and then
Thou'dst sin the faster: Timon, thou givest so long,
Thou'lt shortly give thy self away.

Tim.
I'll hear no more: let him have a Table by
Himself.

Apem.

Let me have some Roots and Water, such as Nature
intended for our Meat and Drink before Eating and Drinking
grew an Art.

[The Meat is serv'd up with Kettle Drums, and Trumpets.
Tim.
Sit Dear Melissa, this is your Feast:
And all you see is yours.
And all that you can wish for shall be so.
Come, sit Lords, no Ceremony,
That was devis'd at first to set a gloss
On feigned deeds, and hollow-hearted welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown:
True friendship needs 'em not: you're more welcome
To my Fortunes, than my Fortunes are to me.
[They sit.
Will you not have some Meat Apemantus?

Apem.
I scorn thy Meat, 'twould choak me; for I should
Ne'r flatter ye; Ye Gods, what a number of men
Eat Timon! and yet he sees 'em not.
It grieves me to see so many dip their meat
In one man's Bloud, and all the madness is
He cheers 'em to't, and loves 'em for't:
I wonder men dare trust themselves with men;
Methinks they should invite them without knives,
'Twere safer far. That fellow that sits next him,
Now parts bread with him, pledges his breath
In a divided Draught, may next day kill him;
Such things have been. If I were a Huge Man
I shou'd be afraid to drink at meals,
Lest they shou'd spy my Wind-Pipes dang'rous places.
Great Men should drink with Harness on their Throats.

Tim.
Now my Lords, let Melissa's health go round

Ælius.
Let it flow this way—

[Kettle-Drums and Trumpets sound.
Apem.
How this pomp shows to a little Oyl and Roots?
These healths will make thee and thy State look ill.

Phæax.
Peace Villain.

Apem.
Here's that which is too weak to be a Sinner;
Here's honest Water ne'r left man i'th'mire,
This and my Root will still keep down
My sawcy and presumptuous Flesh,
That it shall never get the better of me—
Apemantus's Grace.
Much good may't do thee good Apemantus.

Nici.
Our noble Lord Timon's health, let it go round,
And Drums, and Trumpets sound.

[Kettle Drums, &c.
Apem.
What madness is the pomp, the noise, the splendor,
The frantick Glory of this foolish life!
We make our selves fools to disport our selves,
And vary a thousand antick ugly shapes
Of Folly and of Madness, these fill up
The scenes and empty spaces of our lives.
Life's nothing but a dull repetition,
A vain fantastick dream, and there's an end on't.

Tim.
Now my good Lords and Friends, I speak to you,
You that are of the Council of four hundred,
In the behalf of a dear Friend of mine.

Nici.
One word of yours must govern all the Council,
And any thing in Athens.

Tim.
I Speak chiefly
To you my Lord and Father; and to Phæax.

Phæax.
My good Lord command me to my death and I'll obey.

Tim.
I have receiv'd notice from Alcibiades;
(Whose Enemies you have been, and whose Friends
I beg you will be now) that he in private
Will venture into Athens;
Not openly because he will not trust
The Insolence of the tumultuous Rabble;
If he sollicites his recallment with you,
There lives not on this earth a man that has
Deserv'd so well from the Nobility;
He has preserv'd ev'n Athens in his Exile,
By Tissaphernes power he has kept us from
The Lacedemonian Rage, and other Foes
That might have laid this City low in ashes.
How many famous Battels has he won?
But which is more, by his advice and power,
Even in his absence he has wrested
The Government from the insulting Vulgar;
Whose Wisedom's Blindness, and whose Power is Madness:
And plac'd it in your noble Hands; methinks
You in return should take off his hard entence
Of Banishment, and render back all his Estate.

Phæax.
Is there a thing on Earth you would command us
That we would disobey?

Nici.
I am absolutely yours in all Commands.

Ælius.
How proud am I that I can serve Lord Timon!

Apem.
Thinkst thou thy self thy Countries friend now Timon?
His foul Riot and his inordinate Lust,
His wavering Passions, and his headlong Will,
His selfish Principles, his contempt of others,
His Mockery, his various Sports, his Wantonness,
The Rage and Madness of his Luxury
Will make the Athenians hearts ake, as thy own
Will soon make thine.

Isod.
Hang him, we never mind him.

Isand.
When will he speak well of any man?

Apem.
When I can find a man that's better than
A beast, I will fall down and worship him.

Tim.
Thou art an Athenian, and I bear with thee.
Is the Masque ready?

Poet.
'Tis, my noble Lord.

Apem.
What odd and childish folly Slaves find out
To please and court all thy distemper'd Appetites!
They spend their flatteries to devour those men
Upon whose Age they'l void it up agen
With poysonous spite and envy.
Who lives that's not deprav'd, or else depraves?
Who die that bear not some spurns to their Graves.
Of their friends giving? I should fear that those
Who now are going to dance before me,
Should one day stamp on me: it has been done.

Tim.
Nay, if you rail at all Society,
I'll hear no more—be gone.

Apem.
Thou may'st be sure I will not stay to see
Thy folly any longer, fare thee well; remember
Thou would'st not hear me, thou wilt curse thy self for't.

Tim.
I do not think so—fare thee well.

[Exit Apemantus.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
My lord, there are some Ladies masqu'd desire admittance.

Tim.
Have not my doors been always opento,
Ev'ry Athenian? They do me honour,
Wait on 'em in, were I not bound to do
My duty here, I would.

Chloe.
I have not had the opportunity
To deliver this till now, it is a Letter
From Alcibiades.

Mel.
Dear Alcibiades, Oh how shall I love him,
When he's restor'd to his Estate and Country!
He will be richer far than Timon is,
And I shall chuse him first of any man;
How lucky 'tis I should put off my Wedding.

Enter Evandra with Ladies masqu'd.
Tim.
Ladies, you do my house and me great honour;
I should be glad you would unmask, that I
Might see to whom I owe the Obligation.

1. Lad.
We ask your pardon, we are stoln out upon
Curiosity, and dare not own it.

Tim.
Your pleasure Ladies, shall be mine.

Evan.
This is the fine gay thing so much admir'd,
That's born to rob me of my happiness,
And of my life; here face is not her own,
Nor is her love, nor speech, nor motion so:
Her smiles, her amorous looks, she puts on all,
There's nothing natural: She always acts
And never shews her self; How blind is Love
That cannot see this Vanity!

[Masque begins.
Enter Shepherds and Nymphs.
A Symphony of Pipes imitating the chirping of Birds.
Nymph.
Hark how the Songsters of the Grove
Sing Anthems to the God of Love.
Hark how each am'rous winged pair,
With Loves great praises fill the Air.

Chorus.
On ev'ry side the charming sound
Does from the hollow Woods rebound.

Retornella
Nymph.
Love in their little veins inspires
Their cheerful Notes, their soft Desires:
While Heat makes Buds or Blossoms spring,
These pretty couples love and sing.

Chorus
with Flutes.
But Winter puts out their desire,
And half the year they want Loves fire.

Retornella.
Full Chorus.
But Ah how much are our delights more dear,
For only Humane Kind love all the year.

Enter the Mænades and Ægipanes.
1 Bach.
Hence with your trifling Deitie
A greater we adore,
Bacchus, who always keeps us free
From that blind childish power.

2 Bach.
Love makes you languish and look pale,
And sneak, and sigh, and whine;
But over us no griefs prevail,
While we have lusty Wine.

Chorus
with Hout-boys
Then hang the dull Wretch who has care in his soul,
Whom Love, or whom Tyrants, or Laws can controul,
If within his right hand he can have a full Bowl.

Nymph.
Go drivel and snore with your fat God of Wine,
Your swell'd faces with Pimples adorning,
Soak your Brains over night and your senses resign,
And forget all you did the next Morning.

Nymph.
With dull aking Noddles live on in a mist,
And never discover true Joy:
Would Love tempt with Beauty you could not resist,
The Empire he slights, he'd destroy.

1 Bach.
Better our heads, than hearts should ake,
His childish Empire we despise;
Good Wine of him a Slave can make,
And force a Lover to be wise.
Better, &c.

2 Bach.
Wine sweetens all the cares of Peace,
And takes the Terrour off from War.
To Loves affliction it gives ease,
And to its Joy does best prepare.
It sweetens, &c.

Nymph.
'Tis Love that makes great Monarchs fight,
The end of Wealth and Power is Love;
It makes the youthful Poets write,
And does the Old to Youth improve.

Retornella of Hout-boys.
Bach.
'Tis Wine that Revels in their Veins,
Makes Cowards valiant, Fools grow wise,
Provokes low Pens to lofty strains,
And makes the young Loves Chains despise.

Retornella.
Nymphs and Shepherds.
Love rules the World.

Mænades and Ægipanes.
'Tis Wine, 'tis Wine.

Nymphs and Shepherds.
'Tis Love, 'tis Love.

Mænades and Ægipanes.
'Tis Wine, 'tis Wine.

Enter Bacchus and Cupid.
Bacchus.
Hold, Hold, our Forces are combin'd,
And we together rule Mankind.

General Chorus.
Then we with our Pipes, and our Voices wi'd join
To sound the loud praises of Love and good Wine.
Wine gives vigour to Love, Love makes Wine go down.
And by Love and good Drinking, all the World is our own.

Tim.
'Tis well design'd, and well perform'd, and I'll
Reward you well: let us retire into my next
Apartment, where I've devis'd new pleasures for you,
And where I will distribute some small Presents,
To testifie my Love and Gratitude.

Phæax.
A noble Lord!

Ælius.
Bounty it self.

Tim.
Thus my Melissa will we always spend
Our time in Pleasures; but who e're enjoys
Thee, has all this life affords sum'd up in that.

Evan.
These words did once belong to me, but Oh!
My stubborn heart, wilt thou not break at this?

Tim.
Ladies I hope you'l honour me with you presence,
And accept of a Collation.

1 Lady.
We ask your pardon, and must leave you.

Tim.
Demetrius, wait on them.

Evan.
My Lord, I'd speak with you alone.

Tim
Be pleased Madam, to retire with your father,
I'l wait on you instantly.
[to Melissa.
[Exeunt all but Timon and Evandra.
Who are you Madam?

Evan.
One who is come to take her last leave of you.

Tim.
Evandra! What confusion am I in!

Evan.
I am sorry in the midst of all your joys
I should disturb you thus: I had a mind
To see you once before I dy'd; I ne'r
Shall trouble you again.

Tim.
Let me not hear these killing words.

Evan.
They'l be my last, and therefore give'em room
I am hastning to my death, then you'l be happy,
I ne'r shall interrupt your joys again,
Unless the Memory of me should make
You drop some tears upon my dust; I know
Your noble Nature will remember that
Evandra was, and once was dear to you,
And lov'd you so, that she cou'd dye to make
You happy.

Tim.
Ah dear Evandra! that would make
Me wretched far below all misery;
I'd rather kill my self than hear that news:
I call the gods to witness, there's not one
On Earth I more esteem.

Evan.
Esteem! alas!
It is too weak a Cordial to preserve
My fading life, I see your passion's grown
Too headstrong for you. Oh my dearest Timon!
I, while I have any breath, must call you so;
Had you once struggled for my sake,
And striven to oppose the raging fury of
Your fatal Love, I should have dy'd contented.
But Oh! false to your self, to all my hopes,
And me; you suckt the subtile poyson in
So greedily, you would not stay to taste it.

Tim.
She moves me strongly; I have found from her
The truest and the tenderest Love that e'r
Woman yet bore to Man.

Evan.
I find you're gone too far in the disease
T' admit a Cure: I will perswade no longer;
Death is my remedy, and I'll embrace it.

Tim.
Oh talk not of Death: I'll love you still:
I can love two at once, trust me I can.

Evan.
No, Timon, I will have you whole, or nothing:
I love you so, I cannot live to see
That dear, that most ador'd person in anothers arms:
My Love's too nice, 'twill not be fed with crumbs,
And broken meat, that falls from your Melissa.
No dear false Man, you soon shall be at rest,
I came but to receive a parting Kiss:
You'l not deny me that?

Tim.
I will not part with you; we'l be friends for ever.

Evan.
No, no, it cannot be, forgive this trouble,
Since 'tis the last, I'll never see you more;
And may Melissa ever love you as
The Excellence of your form deserves; and may
She please you longer than th' unfortunate
Evandra could.

Tim.
Gods! Why should I not love this Woman best?
She has deserv'd beyond all measure from me;
Aside.
She's beautiful, and good as Angels are;
Aside.
But I have had her Love already.
Aside.
Oh most accursed Charm, that thus perverts me!
To Her.
Y' have made a Woman of me.

Evan.
I'l have but one last look of that
Bewitching Face that ruin'd me.
Oh, I could devour it with my eyes: but I'll
Remove it from thee. I ne're
Shall die contented while I look on thee.

Tim.
Be patient till I give thee satisfaction.

Evand.
No, dearest Enemy, I'll remove the guilt
From thee, and thus I'll place it on my self.

[Offers to stab her self.
Tim.
Hold, dear Evandra, if thou lov'st my life
Preserve thy own; for here I swear, that minute
When thou attemptst thy life, I will lose mine.
Where's Diphilus?

Enter Diphilus.
Diph.
Here my Lord.

Tim.
Wait on Evandra home, and take a care
Sh' attempts not any mischief on her self:
Sh'is agitated by a dang'rous passion.
My dear! let Diphilus wait on thee home;
As soon as ever my Company is gone,
I'll see thee, and convince thee that I love thee.

Evand.
No, no: I cannot hope—farewel for ever.

[Ex. Diph. and Evand.
Tim.
I must resolve on something for her comfort;
For the Empire of the Earth I wou'd not lose her;
There is not one of all her Sex exceeds her
In Love, or Beauty—
O miserable state of humane life!
We slight all the injoyments which we have;
And those things only value which we have not:
Where is Demetrius?

Dem.
My Lord!

Tim.
Where is the Casket which I spoke for?

Dem.
It is here my Lord: I beg your Lordship hear me speak.
I have business that concerns you nearly—

Tim.
Some other time; of late thou dost perplex me
Each moment with the hateful name of business,
That mortal Foe to pleasure, I'll not hear it.

[Ex. Timon.
Dem.
So! all now is at an end!
He does command us to provide great gifts,
And all out of an empty Coffer.
His promises fly so beyond his 'state,
That what he speaks is all in Debt; He owes
For every word; His Land is all engag'd,
His money gone; would I were gently turn'd
Out of my Office; lest he shou'd borrow all
I have gotten in his service. Well!
[Ex. Demet.