TWO SERVANTS of Varro, and the SERVANT of Isidore; two of Timon's creditors. CUPID and MASKERS. THREE STRANGERS. POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, and MERCHANT. OLD ATHENIAN. PAGE. FOOL. PHRYNIA, TIMANDRA, mistresses to Alcibiades. Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and Attendants. SCENE, Athens; and the woods adjoining. TIMON OF ATHENS. ACT I. SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house. Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, and others, at several doors. Poet. Good day, sir. Paint. I am glad you are well. Poet. I have not seen you long. How goes the world? Paint. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, 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. Paint. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord! Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breathed,1 as it were, 1 Inured by constant practice. To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.1 Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray, let's see 't. For the lord Timon, sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but, for Poet. ་ that 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. [looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. Paint. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. From whence 'tis norished. The fire i' the flint Each bound it chafes. What have you there? Paint. A picture, sir.-When comes your book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece. 1 Exceeds common bounds. 1i. e. as soon as my book has been presented to Timon. Paint. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Paint. Indifferent. Poet. Admirable. How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power Moves in this lip! To the dumbness of the gesture Paint. 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. Paint. 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, In a wide sea of wax: 4 no levell'd malice 1 i. e. the figure, though dumb, seems to have a capacity of speech. 2 The triumph of art over nature. My design alludes to no particular character. • Anciently they wrote on waxen tables with an iron style. Infects one comma in the course I hold; But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, Paint. How shall I understand you? I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds To Apemantus, that few things loves better Paint. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be throned. The base o' the mount Is rank'd with all deserts,3 all kind of natures, That labor on the bosom of this sphere 4 To propagate their states: amongst them all, 1 Explain. 2 i. e. one who shows, as by reflection, the looks of his 3 Covered with all ranks of men. patron. To improve their conditions of life. |