Poet.
GOOD day, sir.

Pain.
I am glad you 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— Enter Jeweller, Merchant, and others.
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.

Pain.
I know them both; t'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— [Exeunt Jeweller and Merchant.

Poet.
When we for recompence have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.

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
Shows 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.
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. Enter two Senators, cross, and exeunt.

Pain.
How this lord's followed!

Poet.
The senators of Athens!

Pain.
Look—more! Enter two other Senators, cross, and exeunt.

Poet.
You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors,
You see how all conditions 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'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 sov'reign lady fixt,
One do I personate of Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her iv'ry hand wafts to her,
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pain.
'Tis conceived to the scope.
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,
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 beloved, 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
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To shew lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head. Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor.

Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you? [To Messenger.

Mes.
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 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 enfranchis'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. Enter an old Athenian.

Old Ath.
Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Tim.
Freely, good father.

Old Ath.
Thou hast a servant named Flaminius.

Tim.
I have so: what of him?

Old Ath.
Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim.
Attends he here or no? Flaminius! Enter Flaminius.

Flam.
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 pray thee, 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.
Love you the maid?

Flam.
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 chuse
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

Tim.
How shall she be endowed,
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 on her, 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.

Flam.
Humbly I thank your lordship; never may
That state, or fortune, fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you! [Exeunt Flaminius 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 trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside: pencill'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. (To Merchant.) Give 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.
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.
Will you be chid?

Jew.
We'll bear it with your lordship.

Mer.
He'll spare none. Enter Apemantus.

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.

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.

You're a dog.

Apem.

Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?

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 advanees.

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 feigned 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'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim.

What would'st do then, Apemantus?

Apem.

Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with all my heart.

Tim.

What thyself?

Apem.

Ay.

Tim.

Wherefore?

Apem.

That I had so hungry a wit, to be a lord. (Crosses to Merchant.) 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!

Tim.

What trumpet's that?

Fla.
'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,
'Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done,
Shew me this piece. I'm joyful of your sights. Trumpets. 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.

Alci.

You have sav'd my longing.

Tim.
Right welcome, sir.
Ere we do part, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Music. 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 omit'st it.

Lucul.

Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.

Apem.
Aye, to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

Lucul.

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apem.

Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Lucul.

Why, Apemantus?

Apem.

Thou shouldst 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.

Luc.
The noblest mind he carries,
That ever governed man.

Lucul.
Long may he live in fortunes! shall we in?

Luc.
I'll keep you company. [Exeunt.

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