SCENE I-Athens. A Hall in TIMON'S House. Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, and others, at Poet. Good day, Sir. several Doors. 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. Ah, 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 conjured 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 fixed. Mer. A most incomparable man; breathed, * as it were, To an untirable and continuate † goodness: He passes. ‡ * Inured by constant practice. + Goes beyond common bounds. † Continual, Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, Sir? Poet. When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good. Mer. "Tis a good form. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. [Looking at the jewel. Pain. You are apt, 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 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? 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 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, 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! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, Pain. How shall I understand you ? * Give the price. + Reading his poem. * As soon as my book has been presented to Timon. Does not stop at any particular character. Anciently they wrote upon wax tablets with an iron pen. ** Explain. You see how all conditions, how all minds Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, To propagate their states: I amongst them all, Pain. "Tis conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, Poet. Nay, Sir, but hear me on: Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air. Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head. 1 Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the SERVANT of VENTIDIUS talking with him. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? * One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron, + Crowded with people of all classes of merit. + To advance their condition of life. Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait: To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; I am not of that feather, to shake off My friend when he must need me. I do know him And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me:- Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! Enter an old ATHENIAN. 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 thee. Enter LUCILIUS. 1 [Exit. 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 Tim. Well: what further ? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: Tim. The man is honest. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, Old Ath. She is young, and apt: Tim. [to LUCILIUS]. Love you the maid? I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, Tim. How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband? Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, all. To build his fortune, I will strain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: Old Ath. Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not owed * to you! [Exeunt LUCILIUS and old ATHENIAN. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! Go not away. What have you there, my friend? Your lordship to accept. Tim. Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; Pain. The gods preserve you! Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your hand; We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise. Jew. What, my lord? dispraise ? Tim. A mere satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, It would unclew † me quite. Jew. My lord, 'tis 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 wearing it. Tim. Well mock'd. Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him. Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid? Enter APEMANTUS. Jew. We will bear, with your lordship. Mer. He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! * Held as due. 1 † Unwind. + According to. |