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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?

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,
It tutors nature: artificial strifes
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!
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,

(4) As soon as my book has been presented to Timon.

(5) i. e. The contest of art with nature. (6) My design does not stop at any particular

(3) i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. || character.

Leaving no track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet.

Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran-
som;

I'll unbolt1 to you. And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me :
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Ex.
Enter an old Athenian.

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 flat-
terer,2

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.

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Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states:3 amongst them all,
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 to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pain.
'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
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 moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings4 in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink5 the free air.

Pain.

Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,

Spurns down her late-belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

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.

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;

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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!

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 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?

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Tim. This gentleman of mine hath served 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.
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 nie anon: Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

(3) To advance their conditions of life.
(4) Whisperings of officious servility.
(5) Inhale. (6) i. e. Inferior spectators.

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Tim. Thou are proud, Apemantus.

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Most welcome, sir! Apem.

So, so; there!

Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not Aches contract and starve your supple joints!— like Timon. That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves,

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 should'st, 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.

(1) Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be.

(2) To unclew a man, is to draw out the whole mass of his fortunes.

And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey.4

Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight.

Tim.

Right welcome, sir: Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt all but Apemantus. Enter two Lords.

1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus? Apem. Time to be honest.

1 Lord. That time serves still. Apem. The more accursed thou, that still omit'st it.

2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice.

(3) Alluding to the proverb: Plain dealing is a jewel, but they who use it beggars.

(4) Man is degenerated; his strain or lineage is worn down into a monkey.

2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Go, let him have a table by himself;

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I For he does neither affect company,

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Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. [Exit. 1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.2 1 Lord.. The noblest mind he carries, That ever govern'd man. 2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

1 Lord. I'll keep you company. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A room of state in Timon's house. Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; Flavius and others attending; then enter Timon, Alcibiades, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius, and other Athenian Senators, with Ventidius, and attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleas'd the gods remember

My father's age, and call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose help
I deriv'd liberty,

O, by no means,

Tim.
Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;
I gave it freely ever; and there's none
Can truly say, he gives, if he receives :

If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them; Faults that are rich, are fair.
Ven. A noble spirit.

[They all stand ceremoniously looking on Timon.
Tim.
Nay, my lords, ceremony
Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss

On faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs

none.

Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, Than my fortunes to me.

[They sit

1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it. Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it? hang'd it, have you

not?

Tim. O, Apemantus!—you are welcome. Apem.

You shall not make me welcome :

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. Tim. Fie, thou art a churl; you have got a

mour there

Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame : They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est,3 But yond' man's ever angry.

(1) Meed her means desert.

No,

Nor is he fit for it, indeed.

Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon; I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.

Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian; therefore welcome: I myself would have no power: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent. Apem. Iscorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should

Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods! what a number
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not!
It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat
In one man's blood; and all the madness is,
He cheers them up too.4

I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men:
Methinks they should invite them without knives;
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
There's much example for't; the fellow, that
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges
The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov'd.
If I

Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous
Great men should drink with harness on their

notes:

throats.

Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord. Apem. Flow this way! A brave fellow!-he keeps his tides well. Timon, Those healths will make thee, and thy state look ill. Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire: This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds. Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

I

APEMANTUS'S GRACE.

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
pray for no man, but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond;
Or a harlot, for her weeping;
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping;
Or a keeper with my freedom;
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen. So fall to't:

Rich men sin, and I eat root.

[Eats and drinks. Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field

now.

Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my lord. Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, than a dinner of friends.

Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like them; I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine ene mies then; that then thou might'st kill 'em, and bid hu-me to 'em.

1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby

(4) The allusion is to a pack of hounds trained to pursuit, by being gratified with the blood of an animal which they kill; and the wonder is, that the

(2) i. e. All the customary returns made in dis-animal, on which they are feeding, cheers them to

charge of obligations.

(3) Anger is a short madness.

the chase.

(5) Armour. (6) With sincerity. (7) Foolish.

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