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To climb his Happiness, would be well exprest
In our Condition.

Poet. Nay, Sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his Fellows but of late,
Some better than his Value; on the moment
Follow his (trides, his Lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial Whisperings in his Ear,
Make sacred even his Stirrop, and through him
Drink the free Air.

Pain. Ay marry, what of these?

Poct. 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 flip 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. Yet you do well,
To thew Lord Timon, that mean Eyes have seen,
The Foot above the Head.

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Trumpets found. Enter Lord Timon addressing himself cour,

teously to every Snitor.
Tim. Imprisoned is he, say you? [To a Messenger.

Mej. Ay, my good Lord, five Talents is his Debt,
His means most sort, his Creditors most straight :
Your honourable Letter he defires
To those have shut him up, which failing to him,
Periods bis 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 Enfranchized, bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him afcer. Fare you well.
Mef. Ali Happiness to your Honour.

[Exit.
Enter

Enter an Old Athenian. 0. Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim. Freely, good Father. O. Ath. Thou hast a Servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have so: What of him? 0. Ath. Most Noble Timon, call the Man before thee. Tim. Attends he here or no Lucilius,

Enter Lucilius. Lucil

. Here, at your Lordship’s Service. 0. 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, Then one which holds a Trencher.

Tim. Well: What further?

0. Atb. One only Daughter have I, no Kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The Maid is fair, o'ch' youngest for a Bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest coft,
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;
My self have spoke in vain.

Tim. The Man is honest.

0. Aib. Therefore he will be, Timon, His honesty rewards him in it felf, It must not bear my Daughter.

Tim. Does she love him?

0. Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedenc Pallions do inftru&t us,
What levity's in Youth.

Tim. Love you the Maid?
Lucil. Ay, my good Lord, and she accepts of it.

0. 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 fhall the be endowed,
If she be mated with an equal Husband?

0. Ath. Three Talents on the present, in future all.
Tim. This Gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;

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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.

0. Ath. Molt 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.

[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 Paisting is almost the natural Man:
For fince Dishonour trafficks with Man's Nature,
He is but out-fide: The Pengil'd Figures are
Even such as they give out. I like

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,
We must needs dine together: Sir, your Jewel
Hath suffered under Praise.

Jew. What my Lord? dispraise?

Tim. A meer faciety of Commendations,
If I should pay you for't as 'cis extollid,
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 priz'd so by their Masters. Believ't, dear Lord,
You mend the Jewel by the wearing it.
Tim. Well mock'd.

Enter Apemaotus.
Mer. No, my good Lord, he speaks the common Tongue,
Which all Men speak with him.

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Timi Look who comes here, will you be chid?
Jew. We'll bear with your Lordship.
Mer. He'll spare none.
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.

Tim. Why dost thou call them Knaves, thou know'st them not?

Apem. Are they not Athenians ?
Tim. Yes,
Apem. Then I repent not.
Few. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou know'st I do, I calld 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 Athenians 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 Pi&ure, Apemantus ? Apem. The best, for the Innocence. Tim. Wrought he not well that Painted it?

Apem. He wrought better that made the Painter, and yer he's but a filthy piece of work.

Pain. Yare a Dog.
Apem. Thy Mother's of my Generation: What's the,
If I be a Dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Apem. No, I eat not Lords.
Tim. And thou should'ft, choud'ft anger Ladies.

Apem. O, they eat Lords,
So they come by great Bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apem. So thou apprehend's it. Take it for thy Labour.

Tim. How doft thou like this Jewel, Apemantus ?

Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not coft a Man a Doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Apem.

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Apem. Not worth my thinking.
How now, Poet?

Poet. How now, Philosopher ?
Apem, Thou lieft.
Poet. Art thou one?
Apem. Yes.
Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a Poet?
Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou lieft:
Look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd him a wor-
thy Fellow.

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is fo.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy Labour. He chat loves to be fattered is worthy o’th' Hatrerer. 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

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my Heart.

Tim. What, thy self
Apem. Ay.
Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.
Art not thou 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,

Trumpet Sounds. 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;
You muft needs dine with me: Go not yo! hence
'Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done
Shew me this piece. I am Joyful of your fights.

Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome Sir.

Apem. Sɔ, so, their Aches contra&, and starve your fupple Joynts: That there should be small Love amongst these

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