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Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,(3)
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. 'Tis common :
A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's (1)
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the Servant of VENTI

DIUS talking with him.

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,(5)
Periods his comfort.

Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need (6) 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, bid him come to me :-
"Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare


well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour ! [Exit.

Enter an old Athenian. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim.

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.

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.

The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon :
His honesty rewards him in itself;
It must not bear my daughter.

Does she love him?
Old Ath. She is

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.

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 will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

and apt:

Old Ath.

Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

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

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.

Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance

hear further from me.

The gods preserve ye!
Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;
We must needs dine together.—Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.

What, my lord ! dispraise ?
Tim. A mere satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for 't as 'tis extollid,
It would unclew me quite.

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 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 ?

Jew. We'll bear, with your lordship.


He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus !

Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; 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 call'd 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't 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're 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 apprehendest 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(7) a man a doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking.—How now, poet!
Poet. How now, philosopher !
Apem. Thou liest.
Poel. 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 feigned him a worthy fellow.

Poet. That's not feigned,,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. E'en 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.(8)—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 !

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Servant.
Tim. What trumpet's that?

Serv. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.
Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.-

[Exeunt some Attendants.
You must needs dine with me:-go not you hence
Till I have thank'd you when(9) dinner's done,
Show me this piece.-I am joyful of your sights.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company. Most welcome, sir!

[They salute. Арет.

So, so, there! Aches contract and starve your supple joints !That there should be small love ʼmongst these sweet knaves, And all this court'sy! The strain of man 's bred out

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