Mercer at several doors.* note
Poet.
Good day, Sir.
Pain.
I am glad y' are well.
Poet.
I have not seen you long; how goes the world?
Pain.
It wears, Sir, as it goes.
Poet.
Ay, that's well known.
But what particular rarity? what so strange,
Which manifold record not matches? see,
(Magick 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 fixt.
Mer.
A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were
To an untirable and continuate goodness.
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—
-- 82 --
Poet.
When we for recompence have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.
Mer.
'Tis a good form.
[Looking on the jewel.
Jew.
And rich; here is a water, look ye.
Pain.
You're rapt, Sir, in some work; some dedication
To the great lord?
Poet.
A thing slipt idly from me.
Our poesie is as a gum, which issues
From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i th' flint
Shews not, 'till it be struck:
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.
Indiff'rent.
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 those touches, livelier than life.* note
Enter certain senators.
Pain.
How this lord is followed!
Poet.
The senators of Athens! happy man!
Pain.
Look, more!
-- 83 --
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 particular, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax.
Pain.
How shall I understand you?
Poet.
I'll unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slipp'ry creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their service to lord Timon:
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.
I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The base o'th' 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 sov'reign lady fixt,
One do I personate of Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her iv'ry hand wafts to her.
Pain.
This throne, this fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckoned from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount.
To climb his happiness; would be well exprest
In our condition.
Poet.
Nay, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late,
Make sacred even his stirrup; and through him
Drink the free air.
Pain.
Ay, marry, what of these?
-- 84 --
Poet.
When Fortune in her shift and change of mood,* note
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants
Let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain.
'Tis common;
A thousand moral paintings I can shew,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune,
More pregnantly than words.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
[To a messenger.
Mes.
Ay, my good lord; five talents is his debt,
His means most short, his creditors most straight:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up, which failing to him
Periods his comfort.
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.
Mes.
Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim.
Commend me to him, I will send his ransom;
And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after. Fare you well.
Mes.
All happiness to your honour!
[Exit.† note
-- 85 --
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.
-- 86 --
Tim.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man:
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
* noteHe is but out-side: pencil'd figures are
Ev'n 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† note me quite.
Jew.
My lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give:
Believ'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.
Enter Apemantus.
Will you be chid?
Jew.
We'll bear it with your lordship.
Mer.
He'll spare none.
Tim.
Good-morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
-- 87 --
Apem.
'Till I be gentle stay 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.* note
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 lik'st 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?
Apem.
No, I eat no lords.
Tim.
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apem.
Not so well as plain-dealing, which will
not cost a man a doit.† note
-- 88 --
Tim.
What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem.
Not worth my thinking—How now, poet?
Poet.
How now, philosopher?
Apem.
Thou liest.
Poet.
Art thou 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 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'th' flatterer. Heav'ns that I were a lord!
Tim.
What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Apem.
Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a lord
with my heart.
Tim.
What, thyself?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
Wherefore?
Apem.
That I had so hungry a wit, to be a lord.—
Art thou not a merchant?
Mer.
Ay, Apemantus.
Apem.
Traffick confound thee, if the gods will
not!* note
Mer.
If traffick do it, the gods do it.
Apem.
Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound
thee!
Trumpets sound. Enter Flaminius.
Tim.
What trumpet's that?
Flam.
'Tis Alcibiades. and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.
Tim.
Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us;
[Exit Flaminius.
You must needs dine with me: go not you hence,
-- 89 --
'Till I have thank'd you; and when dinner's done,
Shew me this piece. I'm joyful of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome, Sir!
[Bowing and embracing.
Apem.
So, so! aches contract and starve your supple
joints! that there should be small love amongst
these sweet knaves, and all this courtesie! the strain
of man's bred out into baboon and monkey.
Alc.
You have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.
Tim.
Right welcome, Sir.
E're we do part, we'll share a bounteous time,
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt.
Manet Apemantus. Enter Lucius and Lucullus.
Luc.
What time a day is't, Apemantus?
Apem.
Time to be honest.
Luc.
That time serves still.
Apem.
The most accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.
Lucul.
Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.
Apem.
Ay, to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.
Lucul.
Fare thee well, fare thee well.
Apem.
Thou art a fool to bid me farewel twice.
Lucul.
Why, Apemantus?
Apem.
Thou should'st have kept one to thyself,
for I mean to give thee none.
Luc.
Hang thyself.
Apem.
No, I will do nothing at thy bidding:
make thy requests to thy friend.
Lucul.
Away, unpeaceable dog, or—I'll spurn
thee hence.
Apem.
I will fly, like a dog, the heels o'th' ass.
Luc.
He's opposite to humanity.
Come, shall we in, and taste lord Timon's bounty?
He, sure, outgoes the very heart of kindness.
Lucul.
He pours it out. Plutus, the god of gold,
Is but his steward, no meed but he repays,
Seven-fold above itself: no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.
-- 90 --
Luc.
The noblest mind he carries,
That ever govern'd man.
Lucul.
Long may he live in fortunes! shall we in?
Luc.
I'll keep you company.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, another apartment in Timon's house.
Hautboys playing, loud music. A great banquet served
in; and then enter Timon, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius,
and other Athenian senators, with Ventidius. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus
discontentedly.
Ven.
Most honoured Timon, it hath pleased the gods
To call my father's age unto 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 derived liberty.
Tim.
O, by no means,
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.
Ven.
A noble spirit.
Tim.
Nay, ceremony was but devised 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 they to me.* note
[They sit down.
-- 91 --
Luc.
We always have confest it.
Apem.
Ho, ho, confest it? Hang'd it, have you not?
Tim.
O, Apemantus! You are welcome.
Apem.
No; you shall not make me welcome. I
come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
Tim.
Fie, th'art a churl: ye have got a humour there
Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame:
Go, let him have a table by himself:
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for't.
Apem.
Let me stay at thy peril, Timon; I come to
observe, I give thee warning on't.
Tim.
I take no heed of thee; th'art an Athenian,
therefore welcome; pr'ythee, let my meat make
thee silent.
Apem.
I scorn thy meat, 'twould choak 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.
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, part's bread with him, and pledges* note
The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is th' readiest man to kill him. 'T has been proved.
Were I a great man, I should fear to drink,
Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
Tim.
My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
-- 92 --
Lucul.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem.
Flow this way!—a brave fellow! he keeps
his tides well: those healths will make thee and thy
state look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak
to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man
i'th' mire:
This and my food are equal, there's no odds;
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
* noteApemantus's grace.
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
I 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, Amen; So fall to't:
Rich men sin, and I eat root.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
Tim.
Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field
now.
Alc.
My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
Tim.
You had rather been at a breakfast of enemies,
than a dinner of friends.
Alc.
So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's
no meat like 'em. I could wish my friends at such
a feast.
Apem.
Would all these flatterers were thine enemies
then; that thou might'st kill 'em, and bid me
to 'em.
Luc.
Might we but have the happiness, my lord,
that you would once use our hearts, whereby we
might express some part of our zeals, we should think
ourselves for ever perfect.
-- 93 --
Tim.
Oh, no doubt, my good friends, how had
you been my friends else? I have told more of you
to myself, than you can with modesty speak, in your
own behalf. And thus far I confirm you. Oh
you gods, (think I,) what need we have any friends,
if we should never have need of 'em? Why I have
often wisht myself poorer, that I might come nearer
to you: we are born to do benefits. And what
better or properer can we call our own, than the
riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort
'tis to have so many, like brothers, commanding
one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away
ere't can be born; mine eyes cannot hold water,
methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.† note
Apem.
Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon.
Luc.
Joy had the like conception in our eyes;
And at that instant like a babe sprung up.
Apem.
Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a
bastard.* note
Sem.
I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.
Apem.
Much!
Trumpet sounds.
Tim.
What means that trump? how now?
Enter Flaminius.
Flam.
Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies
most desirous of admittance.
Tim.
Ladies? what are their wills?
Ser.
There comes with them a fore-runner, my
lord, which bears that office to signify their pleasures.
Tim.
I pray, let them be admitted.
Enter Cupid with a masque of ladies, as Amazons.
Cup.
Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all
That of his bounties taste! the five best senses
-- 94 --
Acknowledge thee their patron; and do come
Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bosom:
Th' ear, taste, touch, smell, pleas'd from thy table rise,
These only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Tim.
They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance.
Let music make their welcome.
Apem.
Hoyday! what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
They dance, they are mad women.
Like madness is the glory of this life!
As this pomp shews to a little oil and root.* note
I should fear, those, that dance before me now.
Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done;
Men shut their doors against the setting sun.
The lords rise from table, with much adoring of Timon;
each singling out an Amazon, and all dance, men with
women; a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.
Tim.
You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
You've added worth unto 't, and lively lustre,
And entertained me with mine own device.
I am to thank you for it.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you.
Please you to dispose yourselves.
All La.
Most thankfully, my lord.
[Exeunt.
Tim.
Flavius—
Flav.
My lord.
Tim.
The little casket bring me hither.
-- 95 --
Flav.
Yes, my lord. More jewels yet? there is
no crossing him in's humour,
Else I should tell him—well—i'faith, I should,
When all's spent, he'd be crossed then if he could.
Tim.
O my good friends!
I have one word to say to you: look, my lord,
I must entreat you, honour me so much
As to advance this jewel, accept and wear it,
Kind, my lord!
Luc.
I am so far already in your gifts—
All.
So are we all.
Enter a servant.
Ser.
My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate
newly alighted, and come to visit you.
Tim.
They are fairly welcome.
Re-enter Flavius.
Flav.
I beseech your honour, vouchsafe me a word!
it does concern you near.
Tim.
Near! Why then another time I'll hear thee.
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to shew them entertainment.
Flav.
I scarce know how. What will this come
to? he commands us to provide, and give great
gifts, and all out of an empty coffer:
Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,
To shew him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good.
Well, 'would I were gently put out of office, ere I were forc'd!
I bleed inwardly for my lord.
[Exit.
Tim.
You do yourselves much wrong, you bate
too much of your own merits. Here, my lord, a
trifle of our love.
Semp.
With more than common thanks I will receive
it.
Tim.
I take all, and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;
Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends,
And ne'er be weary; Alcibiades,
-- 96 --
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,
It comes in charity to thee; thy living
Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lie in a pitcht field.
Alc.
I defy land, my lord.
Semp.
We are so virtuously bound—
Tim.
And so am I to you.
Lucul.
So infinitely endeared—
Tim.
All to you. Lights! more lights, more lights.
Luc.
The best of happiness, honour, and fortunes,
Keep with you, lord Timon—
Tim.
Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt lords.
Apem.
What a coil's here,
Serving of becks* note and jutting out of bums!
I doubt, whether their legs be worth the sums
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs;
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs,
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies.
Tim.
Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I would be good to thee.
Apem.
No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd
too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and
then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou giv'st so long,
Timon, I fear me, thou wilt give away thyself in
proper, shortly. What need these feasts, pomps,
and vain-glories?
Tim.
Nay, if you begin to rail on society once,
I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewel,
and come with better musick.
[Exit.
Apem.
So—thou wilt not hear me now, thou
shalt not then.
I'll lock thy heaven from thee:
Oh, that mens ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!† note
[Exit.
End of the First ACT.
-- 97 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
