Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
More needs she the divine than the physician.
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above [may; God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
The night is long that never finds the day.
And still keep eyes upon her :-So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent.
SCENE I.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentle
Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon 't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive
at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
watching. In this slumbery agitation, besides her
walking and other actual performances, what, at
any time, have you heard her say?
Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her.
Doct. You may, to me; and 't is most meet you
Good night, good doctor. [Exe.
SCENE II.-The Country near Dunsinane.
Enter, with drum and colours, Menteth, Cath-
ness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.
Ment. The English power is near, led on by Mal-
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. [colm,
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man.
Ang.
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
Cath. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.
Ment.
What does the tyrant?
Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say he 's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no wit-Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
ness to confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her: stand close.
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule. Ang. Now does he feel His secret murthers sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Doct. How came she by that light? Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her Upon a dwarfish thief. continually; 't is her coinmand. Ment.
Doct. You see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.
Doct. What is it she does now? Look how she
rubs her hands.
Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.
Lady M. Yet here 's a spot.
Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!-One; Two: Why, then 't is time to do 't!-Hell is murky! -Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard! What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him! Doct. Do you mark that?
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now?-What, will these hands ne'er be clean? -No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! [charged. Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,
Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir.
Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo 's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave.
Lady M. To bed, to bed; there 's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone; To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady Macbeth. Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly. Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural
Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there?
Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 't is truly ow'd:
Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal;
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us. Len. Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.
SCENE III.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus:
Fear not, Macbeth; no man that 's born of woman
Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly, false
And mingle with the English epicures: [thanes,
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a Servant.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon;
Where gott'st thou that goose look?
Serv. There is ten thousand-
Geese, villain? Serv. Soldiers, sir.
Macb.
Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Serv. The English force, so please you
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am sick
When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push
Will cheer me ever, or dis-seat me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seyton!-
Enter Seyton.
Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?
Mach.
What news more
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
Towards which advance the war.
[Exeunt, marching. SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the Castle. Enter, with drums and colours, Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers.
Mach. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up: Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A cry within, of women. Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Mach. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in 't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word.To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life 's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. should report that which I say I saw, Mess. Gracious my lord,
But know not how to do it. Mach.
Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and, anon, methought, The wood began to move. Macb. Liar, and slave! [Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath if 't be not so; Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. Macb.
If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.I pull in resolution; and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane;'-and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out!There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. If this which he avouches does appear, I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.Ring the alarum-bell:-Blow wind! come wrack! At least we 'll die with harness on our back. [Exe. SCENE VI.-The same. A Plain before the Castle.
Enter, with drums and colours, Malcolm, old Siward, Macduff, &c., and their Army, with boughs. Mal. Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw down,
And show like those you are:-You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order. Siw. Fare you well.-
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. [all breath,
Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
[Exeunt. Alarums continued.
SCENE VII.-The same. Another Part of the
Plain.
Mach. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course.-What 's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none.
Enter Young Siward. Yo. Siw. What is thy name? Macb. Thou 'It be afraid to hear it. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter Than any is in hell. [name Macb. My name 's Macbeth. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a More hateful to mine ear. [title No, nor more fearful. Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
[They fight, and young Siward is slain.
Mach.
Thou wast born of woman.
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit.
Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macd. That way the noise is:-Tyrant, show thy
face:
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last: Before my body
I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough.
[Exeunt, fighting.
Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and
colours, Malcolm, old Siward, Rosse, Lenox,
Angus, Cathness, Menteth, and Soldiers.
Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe ar-
riv'd.
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou should'st be; So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.
[Exit. Alarum.
Enter Malcolm and old Siward.
Siw. This way, my lord;-the castle 's gently ren-
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; [der'd:
The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
The day almost itself professes yours,
Siw. Some must go off; and yet, by these I see,
Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt;
He only liv'd but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirin'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died. Siw. Then he is dead?
Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause
And little is to do. Mal. We have met with foes Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
That strike beside us.
Siw.
Enter, sir, the castle.
[Exeunt. Alarum.
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Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Mach. Of all men else 1 have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.
Macd.
I have no words,
My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out! [They fight.
Macb.
Thou losest labour:
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
Macd.
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.
Macb. Accursed be the tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.-I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
We 'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,
'Here may you see the tyrant.'
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet
Had he his hurts before?
Rosse. Ay, on the front.
Siw.
Why, then, God's soldier be he
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
And so his knell is knoll'd.
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And that I'll spend for him.
Siw.
He 's worth no more;
They say, he parted well, and paid his score: [fort.
And so, God be with him!-Here comes newer com.
Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.
Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, where
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: [stands
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,-
Hail, king of Scotland!
Hail, king of Scotland!
[Flourish.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time,
Before we reckon with your several loves, [men,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kins
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,-
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 't is thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life;--this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
[Flourish. Excunt
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SCENE I.-Athens. A Hall in Timon's House. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors.
Poet. Good day, sir.
Pain.
I am glad you are well.
Poet. I have not seen you long: How goes the
Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
[world?
Poet.
Ay, that 's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; th' other 's a jeweller.
Mer. O, 't is a worthy lord!
Few.
Nay, that 's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it To an untirable and continuate goodness: [were, He passes.
Few. I have a jewel here.
Mer. O, pray, let's see 't: For the lord Timon, sir?
Few. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that-
Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd the
It stains the glory in that happy verse [vile,
Which aptly sings the good."
Mer. 'T is a good form. [Looking at the jewel.
Few. And rich: here is a water, look you.
Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedi-
To the great lord.
[cation
Poet.
A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 't is nourished: The fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.-When comes your book
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. [forth?
Let's see your piece.
Pain.
'T is a good piece.
Poet. So 't is: this comes off well and excellent.
Pain. Indifferent.
Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch: Is 't good?"
I'll say of it
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord 's follow'd!
Poet. The senators of Athens :-Happy men!
Pain. Look, more!
[visitors.
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.
Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet.
I'll unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flat-
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.
I saw them speak together.
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinds of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her:
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.
Pain.
"T is conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition."
Poet.
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.
Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'T is common:
A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of for
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well.
To show ford Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the
Servant of Ventidius talking with him.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he say you!
Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his
debt;
His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing to him,
Periods his comfort.
Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather, to shake off
My friend when he must need me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt and free him.
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. [som;
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran-
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:-
'T is not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour.
Enter an old Athenian.
Hath suffer'd under praise.
Few.
What, my lord? dispraise!
Tim. A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for 't as 't is extoll'd
It would unclew me quite.
Few.
My lord, 't is rated
As those which sell would give: But you well know,
Things of like value, differing in the owners,
Are prized by their masters: believe 't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
Tim. Well mock'd.
Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common
Which all men speak with him.
[tongue,
Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid?
Enter Apemantus.
[Exit. Few. We will bear with your lordship.
Mer.
He'll spare none.
Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus !
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before
Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!
Enter Lucilius.
Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclined to thrift;
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim.
Well; what further?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost,
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.
The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:
His honesty rewards him in itself,
It must not bear my daughter.
Tim.
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves hon-
Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st
Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.
[them not.
Apem. Then I repent not.
Few. You know me, Apemantus.
Apem. Thou know'st I do; I called thee by thy
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am not like
Tim. Whither art going?
Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
Tim. That 's a deed thou 'lt die for.
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemnantus?
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?
Apem. No; I eat not lords.
Tim. An thou should'st, thou 'dst anger ladies.
Does she love him? Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.
Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
I call the gods to witness, I will choose
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.
How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband?
[all.
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future,
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;
To build his fortune I will strain a little,
For 't is a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.
Old Ath.
Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. [mise.
Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my pro-
Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may
That state or fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not ow'd to you!
[Exeunt Lucilius and ld Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away.-What have you there, my friend? Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: These pencill'd figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
Pain.
The gods preserve you!
Tim. Well fare you,gentlemen: Give me your hand:
We must needs dine together,-Sir, your jewel
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension [bellies. 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 not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost thou think 't is worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet!
Poet. How now, philosopher?
Apem. Thou liest. Poet. Art not one?
Apem. Yes.
Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a poet?
where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet. Yes.
Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work,
Poet. That 's not feign'd, he is so.
Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee
for hy labour: He that loves to be flattered is
worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!
Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord
with my heart. Tim. What, thyself?
Apen. Ay. Tim. Wherefore?
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.-
Art not thou a merchant?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it.
[thee!
Apem. Traffic 's thy god, and thy god confound
Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.
Tim. What trumpet 's that?
Serv. 'T is Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, All of companionship.
Tim. Pray entertain them; give them guide to
[Exeunt some Attendants,
You must needs dine with me:-Go not you hence
Till I have thank'd yon; when dinner 's done,
Show me this piece.-I am joyful of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades, with his company.
Most welcome, sir!
[They salute.
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