To show lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the Servant of VENTIDIUS talking with him.

Tim.

Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his

debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait :
Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which failing to him,
Periods his comfort.

Tim.

Noble Ventidius! Well;

I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deserves a help,

Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt and free him.
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.

Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;

And, being enfranchis'd, hid him come to me :—

"T is not enough to help the feeble 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 named 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!

Enter LUCILIUS.

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 inclined 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 prithee, 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,

I call the gods to witness, I will choose

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

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. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long; To build his fortune I would strain a little,

a The following is Coleridge's explanation of this passage: -"The meaning of the first line the poet himself explains, or rather unfolds, in the second. The man is honest l'- True; and for that very cause, and with no additional or extrinsic motive, he will be so. No man can be justly called honest, who is not so for honesty's sake, itself including its own reward.'"

For 't is a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,

And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath.

Most noble lord,

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my pro

mise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping,

Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away.-What have you there, my friend? Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.

Tim.

Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man ;

For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.

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 meer satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for 't as 't is extoll'd It would unclew me quite.

Jew.

My lord, 't is 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 the 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!
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good mor-

row;

When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou know'st I do; I called thee by thy.

name.

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.

Tim. Whither art going?

Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
Tim. That's a deed thou 'lt die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
Apem. The best, for the innocence.

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it?

Apem. He wrought better that made the painter; and yet he 's but a filthy piece of work.

Pain. You are a dog.

Apem. Thy mother 's of my generation: What 's she, if I be a dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?

Apem. No; I eat not lords.

Tim. An thou shouldst, thou 'dst anger ladies. Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: Take it for thy labour.

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 't is worth?

Apem. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet? Poet. How now, philosopher?

Apem. Thou liest.

Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a poet?
Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou liest

look in thy last work, where

thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.

Poet. That 's not feign'd, he is so.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.-Art not thou a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it.

Apem. Traffic 's thy god, and thy god confound thee!

VOL. IX.

H