Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, Pain. "Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, To climb his happiness, would be well express'd Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on. Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 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, Pain. "Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen 5 Drink the free air.] "To drink the air, (says Wakefield,) like the haustos atherios of Virgil, is merely a poetical phrase for draw the air, or breathe. To "drink the free air," therefore, through another, is to breathe freely at his will only." 6 Even on their knees and HANDS, let him SLIP down,] The folio reads hand, and sit for "slip." The emendation was made by Rowe. 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, 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 Which he shall have. I'll pay the debt, and free 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 you well. [Exit. 7 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! Enter LUCILIUS. Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature, talking with him.] The old stage-direction is," Trumpets sound. Enter lord Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor." By night frequents my house. I am a man Tim. Well; what farther? Old Ath. One only daughter have I; no kin else, 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: Tim. [To LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid? I call the gods to witness, I will choose 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 'tis 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. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lord ship! 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. For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, 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 'tis extoll'd, It would unclew me quite. My lord, 'tis rated Jew. Are prized by their masters. Believe't, dear lord, Well fare you, GENTLEMAN :[ Timon is addressing the Painter, and, taking leave of him for the present, he says, "Well fare you, gentleman," and not gentlemen, as it is usually printed, abandoning the old copy. 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 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 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'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. 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? |