TIMON OF ATHENS. DRAMATIS PERSONE. TIMON, a noble Athenian. | FLAMINIUS, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, lords, and flat- LUCILIUS, terers SERVILIUS, of Timon. CAPHIS, VENTIDIUS, one of Timon's PHILOTUS, false friends. ALCIBIADES, an Athenian gen eral. APEMANTUS, a churlish philosopher. FLAVIUS, steward to Timon. servants to servants to TITUS, Poet, Painter, Jeweler, and PHRYNIA, Merchant. An old Athenian. TIMANDRA, Cupid and Amazons in the mask. Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Banditti, and Attendants. SCENE-Athens and the woods adjoining. ACT I. SCENE I. Athens. A hall in TIMON's house. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweler, 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, 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? It stains the glory in that happy verse Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking at 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 slipp'd idly from me. Our poesy is a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourish'd the fire i' the flint 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. Poet. Admirable how this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Poet. I will say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visi tors. I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, Halts not particularly, but moves itself I'll unbolt to you. Pain. How shall I understand you? Pain. Poet. Sir, I saw them speak together. 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 labor on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states: amongst them all, 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. Pain. With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on. All those which were his fellows but of late,— Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 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 labor'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 Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; a Ser vant of VENTIDIUS talking with him; LuCILIUS and other Attendants following. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord; five talents is his debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait : Your honorable letter he desires To those have shut him up; which failing him Tim. Noble Ventidius! - Well; I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he most needs me. I do know him Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. Ven. Serv. 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, Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim. [Exit. Freely, good father. Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Luc. [coming forward] Here, at your lordship's ser◄ vice. Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy crea ture, By night frequents my house. I am a man Well; what further? Tim. 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. I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, |