Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves,

and Attendants.

SCENE, -ATHENS, and the Woods adjoining.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT I.

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 world? Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.

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, 'tis a worthy lord!

Jew.

Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness:

He passes.

Jew. I have a jewel here.

Mer. O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but, for that—

Poet. [reciting to himself.] When we for recompense have prais'd the vile

It stains the glory in that happy verse

Which aptly sings the good.

Mer.

'Tis a good form.

[Looking at the jewel.

Jew. And rich: here is a water, look ye.

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication

To the great lord.

Poet.

A thing slipp'd idly from me.

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes

From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint

Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Pain. Indifferent.

Poet.

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?

Poet.

I will 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 is follow'd!

Poet. The senators of Athens:--happy man!

Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.
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 track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet.

I will 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 flatterer
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.

nt.

re

of visitors.

t to you.

10 propagate their states: amongst them a
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
Whose present grace to present slaves and s
Translates his rivals.

Pain.
'Tis conceiv'd to scope
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, me
With one man beckon'd from the rest belov
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well expr
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 momen
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tend
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through
Drink the free air.

Pain.

Ay, marry, what of thes
Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and cha
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his depen
Which labour'd after him to the mountain'
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'Tis common:
A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows o
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have s
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended;
VENTIDIUS talking with him.
Imprison'd is he, sa

Tim.

Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talent
His means most short, his creditors most st
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing
Periods his comfort.

Tim.

Noble Ventidius! We

Tis not enough to help the fee le up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.

Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!

Enter an Old Athenian.

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.

[Exit

Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.

Tim. I have so: what of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!

LUCILIUS comes forward from among the Attendants.

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.

Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd 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 pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;

Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.

The man is honest.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:

His honesty rewards him in itself;

It must not bear my daughter.

Tim.

Does she love him?

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,