Athens. A Hall in TIMON'S House. |
|
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Others, at several doors. |
Poet. Good day, sir. |
Pain. I am glad you're well. |
Poet. I have not seen you long. How goes the world? |
Pain. 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 conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. |
Pain. I know them both; th' other's a jeweller. |
Mer. O! 'tis a worthy lord. |
Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. |
Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd, as it were, |
To an untirable and continuate goodness: |
He passes. |
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 that— |
Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile. |
It stains the glory in that happy verse |
Which aptly sings the good. |
Mer. [Looking at the jewel.] 'Tis a good form. |
Jew. And rich: here is a water, look ye. |
Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication |
To the great lord. |
Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. |
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes |
From whence 'tis nourish'd: 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. When comes your book forth? |
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, 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 strife |
Lives in these touches, livelier than life. |
|
Enter certain Senators, who pass over the stage. |
Pain. How this lord is follow'd! |
Poet. The senators of Athens: happy man! |
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, |
Leaving no tract behind. |
Pain. How shall I understand you? |
Poet. I will unbolt to you. |
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 flatterer |
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. |
Pain. I saw them speak together. |
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill |
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: the base o' the mount |
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, |
That labour on the bosom of this sphere |
To propagate their states: 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 whisperings in his ear, |
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him |
Drink 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's |
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 LORD TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following. |
Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? |
Mess. 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 |
A gentleman that well deserves a help, |
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt and free him. |
Mess. 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 you well. |
Mess. 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! |
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 prithee, 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? |
Old Ath. She is young and apt: |
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. |
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; |
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 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. |
The painting is almost the natural man; |
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, |
He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are |
Even such as they give out. I like your work; |
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance |
Till you hear further from me. |
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. |
Jew. 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? |
|
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. |
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'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 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. |
Poet. 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. Even 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. 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 thanked you; when dinner's done, |
Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. |
|
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company. |
Most welcome, sir! |
Apem. 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. |
Tim. Right welcome, sir! |
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time |
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt all except APEMANTUS. |
|
Enter two Lords. |
First Lord. What time o' day is 't, Apemantus? |
Apem. Time to be honest. |
First Lord. That time serves still. |
Apem. The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it. |
Sec. Lord. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast? |
Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools. |
Sec. Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. |
Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. |
Sec. Lord. Why, Apemantus? |
Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none. |
First Lord. Hang thyself! |
Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend. |
Sec. Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog! or I'll spurn thee hence. |
Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of an ass. [Exit. |
First Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, |
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes |
The very heart of kindness. |
Sec. 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. |
First Lord. The noblest mind he carries |
That ever govern'd man. |
Sec. Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! |
Shall we in? |
First Lord. I'll keep you company. [Exeunt. |
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