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; To those have shut him up; which failing, Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; I am not of that feather, to shake off My friend when he most needs 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.— 'T is not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.-Fare you well. 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? [Exit. 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. [creature, Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy 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 farther? Tim. 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; Tim. Does she love him? Old Ath. She is young, and apt: Tim. [To LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid? Luc. Ay, my good lord; and she accepts of it. 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. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long: To build his fortune I will strain a little, For 't is a bond in men. Give him thy daughter; 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. Tim. Pain. The gods preserve you! Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: 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 '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, Are prized by their masters. Believe 't, dear lord, 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'll 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 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. Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. 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. Y' 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. 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? 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? Арет. Ау. Tim. Wherefore? Apem. That I had so hungry a wish' 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! Trumpets sound. 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; and when dinner 's done Show me this piece.-I am joyful of your sights. 1 That I had no angry wit: in f. e. Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company. Most welcome, sir ! So, so, there. Aches contract and starve your supple joints !— That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy. The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey. Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sight. Right welcome, sir: Tim. [Exeunt all but APEMANTUS. Enter two Lords. 1 Lord. What time o' 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. Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none. 1 Lord. Hang thyself. Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend. 2 Lord. Away, unappeasable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence. 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. 1 Lord. That ever govern'd man. The noblest mind he carries, 2 Merit. |