This and my food are equals; there's no odds.
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
APEMANTUS' Grace
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but myself.
Grant I may never prove so fond
To trust man on his oath or bond,
Or a harlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that seems a-sleeping,
Or a keeper with my freedom,
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen. So fall to't.
Rich men sin, and I eat root. [Eats and drinks]
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
TIMON. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.
ALCIBIADES. My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TIMON. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than dinner
of
friends.
ALCIBIADES. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's no meat
like 'em; I could wish my best friend at such a feast.
APEMANTUS. Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then,
that
then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em.
FIRST LORD. 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.
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