PERSONS REPRESENTED.

}

Timon, a noble Athenian.
Lucius,
Lucullus, lords, and flatterers of Timon.
Sempronius,
Ventidius, one of Timon's false friends.
Apemantus, a churlish philosopher.
Alcibiades, an Athenian general.
Flavius, steward to Timon.
Flaminius,
Lucilius, Timon's servants,
Servilius,
Caphis,
Philotus,
Titus,

>servants to Timon's creditors.
Lucius,
Hortesius,
Two Servarts of Paird, and the Servant of Isidore;
.:: ::: two of Timon's creditors.
Cupid.and Maskers. Three Strangers.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller and Merchant.
An old Attientian. : A Page. A Fool.

Timandra,} mistresses to Alcibiades.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and

Attendants.

SCENE, Athens; and the Woods adjoining.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT І.

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,
Magick of bounty!' all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.

Pain. I know them both; t'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, sír ?

1 Inured by constant practice. 2 For continual.

3 i... Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds.

Our poesy

Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that

Poet. 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 you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some de

dication To the great lord. Poet.

A thing slipp'd idly from me.
is as a gum,

which oozes
From whence 'tis 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.-And when comes your book

forth?
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,4 sir.
Let's see your piece.
Pain.

'Tis a good piece.
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'll say of it,

* As soon as my book has been presented to Timen.