SCENE II.
Flourish of Trumpets. Timon attended by several Suitors
Senators, Jeweller, Merchant, &c. &c. addressing himself courteously to every one.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
[to a Messeng
Mes.
Ay, my good Lord; five talents is his debt,
His means most short, his creditors most straight:
-- 4 --
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.
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 painted is almost the natural man:
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside: 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 ye!
Tim.
Well fare you, Gentleman; give me your hand,
[to the Merchant.
We must needs dine together—Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew.
What, my Lord? dispraise?
Tim.
A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't, as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.
Jew.
Believ't, dear Lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
Tim.
Well mock'd.
-- 5 --
Mer.
No, my good Lord, it is 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!
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.
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.
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 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.
-- 6 --
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.
Mer.
If traffick do it, the gods do it.
Apem.
Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound thee!
Trumpets sound. Enter a Messenger.
Tim.
What trumpet's that?
Mes.
'Tis Alcibiades and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.
Tim.
Pray entertain them, give them guide to us;
[Exit.
You must all dine with me—Go not you hence,
Till I have thank't 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 even sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.
Tim.
Right welcome, Sir.
E'er we do part, we'll share a bounteous time
In diff'rent pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt.
-- 7 --
Manet Apemantus.
Apem.
O you gods! what a number of men eat
Timon, and he sees 'em 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!
Richard Cumberland [1771], Timon of Athens, Altered from Shakespear. A tragedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane (Printed for the Proprietors of Shakespear's Works, and sold by T. Becket [etc.], London) [word count] [S32700].
