Aper. Hoyday,
What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way.
They daunce? They are madwomen,
Like Madnesse is the glory of this life,
As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote.
We make our selues Fooles, to disport our selues,
And spend our Flatteries, to drinke those men,
Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agen
With poysonous Spight and Enuy.
Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues;
Who dyes, that beares not one spurne to their graues
Of their Friends guift:
I should feare, those that dance before me now,
Would one day stampe vpon me: 'Tas bene done,
Men shut their doores against a setting Sunne.
The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to shew their loues, each single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a loftie straine or two to the Hoboyes, and cease.
Tim. You haue done our pleasures
Much grace (faire Ladies)
Set a faire fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not halfe so beautifull, and kinde:
You haue added worth vntoo't, and luster,
And entertain'd me with mine owne deuice.
I am to thanke you for't
1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the best
Aper. 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 dispose your selues
All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.
Exeunt.
Tim. Flauius
Fla. My Lord