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.

90

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 enfranchised, 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!

Enter an old Athenian.

100

[Exit.

Freely, good father. 110

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Tim.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant named 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 inclined to thrift;

And my estate deserves an heir more raised
Than one which holds a trencher.

Well; what further? 120

Tim.
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.

The man is honest.

Tim.
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 served 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 owed to you!

130

140

150

[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 pencill'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 ye!
Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;

160

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.

170

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.

He'll spare none.

Mer.
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. 180 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?

191

200

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'ldst anger ladies.

Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

211

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.

220

L

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.

230

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.. E'en 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 Messenger.

Tim. What trumpet's that?

Mess. "Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, All of companionship.

240

250

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 thank'd you: when dinner's done, Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest.

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 saved 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.

260

[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?

270

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!

281

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the 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.

290

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.