Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addreffing himself courteously to every fuitor. Tim. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? [To a Messenger. To those have shut him up, which failing to him Tim. Noble Ventidius! well. I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he moft needs me. I do know him Which he shall have, I'll pay the debt, and free him. Tim. Commend me to him, I will fend his ransom; And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to fupport him after. Fare you well. Enter an old Athenian. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me fpeak. Tim. Freely, good father. Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have fo: what of him? [Exit. Old Ath. Moft noble Timon, call the man before thee. Tim. Attends he here or no? Lucilius! Enter Lucilius. Luc. Here, at your lordship's fervice. Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature By night frequents my houfe. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift, And my eftate deferves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher. Tim. Well: what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin elfe, On whom I may confer what I have got : And And I have bred her at my dearest cost,/ Tim. The man is honeft. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4) Tim. Does fhe love him? Our own precedent paffions do inftru&t us,, Tim. Love you the maid? Luc. Ay, my good lord, ad fhe accepts of it. Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, Tim. How fhall fhe be endowed, If the 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 ftrain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: Old Ath. Moft noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, he is his. Tim. My hand to thee, mine honour on my promise. Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That ftate, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you f [Exeunt Luc. and old Ath. Poet. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your lordship! (4) Therefore he will be, Timon.] The Thought is closely exprefs'd, and obfcure: but this feems the Meaning. "If the "Man be honeft, my Lord, for that reafon he will be fo in "this; and not endeavour at the Injustice of gaining my "Daughter without my. Consent." Ms. Warburton. 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 befeech Your lordship to accept. Tim. Painting is welcome. The Painting is almost the natural man : Pain. The Gods preserve ye! Tim. Well fare you, gentleman; Give me your hand, Jew. What, my lord? difpraife? It would unclew me quite. Jew. My lord, 'tis rated As thofe, which fell, would give: but you well know, Are by their masters priz'd; Believ't, dear lord, Tim. Well mock'd. Mer. No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue, Which all men fpeak with him. Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid ? Enter Apemantus. Jew. We'll bear it with your lordship. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! Apem. 'Till I be gentle, ftay for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honeft. Tim. Why doft thou call them knaves, thou know'st them not? Apem. Are they not Athenians? Apem. Apem. Then I repent not. Jew. You know me, Apemantus. Apem. Thou know'ft I do, I call'd thee by thy name. Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon. Tim. Whither art going? Apem. To knock out an honeft Athenian's brains. Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. 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. Y'are a dog. Apem. Thy mother's of my generation: what's fhe, if I be a dog? Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ? Apem. No, I eat not lords. Tim. If thou fhould'ft, thou'dft anger ladies. Apem. O, they eat lords; fo they come by great bellies. Tim. That's a lafcivious apprehenfion. Apem. So, thou apprehend'ft it. Take it for thy labour. Tim. How doft thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apem. Not fo well as Plain-dealing, which will not coft a man a doit. Tim. What doft thou think 'tis worth? Apem. Not worth my thinking--How now, Poet? Poet. How now, Philofopher? Apem. Thou lieft. Poet. Art thou not one? Apem. Yes. Poet. Then I lie not. Apem. Art not a poet? Poet. Yes. Apem. Then thou lieft: look in thy laft work, where thou haft feign'd him a worthy fellow. Poet. That's not feign'd, he is fo. Арет. Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He, that loves to be flattered, is wor thy o'th' flatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a lord! Tim. What would't do then, Apemantus? Apem. Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart. : Tim. What, thy felf? Tim. Wherefore? Apem. That I had fo hungry a wit, to be a lord. (5) Art thou not a Merchant ? Mer. Ay, Apemantus. Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not! Apem. Traffick's thy God, and thy God confound thee! Tim. What trumpet's that? Mef. 'Tis Alcibiades, and fome twenty horse All of companionship. Tim. Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us; 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 fights. Enter Alcibiades with the reft. Most welcome, Sir! [Bowing and embracing. Apem. So, fo! Aches contract, and starve, your fupple joints! that there fhould be fmall love amongst these fweet knaves, and all this courtefie! the ftrain of man's bred out into baboon and monkey. Alc. You have fav'd my longing, and I feed (s) That I had no angry Wit to be a Lord.] This Reading is abfurd, and unintelligible. But, as I have reftor'd the Text, it is fatirical enough of all Conscience, and to the purpose: viz. I would hate myself, for having no more Wit than to covet fo infignificant a Title. In the fame Senfe Shakespeare uses lean-witted, in his Richard 2d. And thou a lunatick, lean-witted, Fool. Mr. Warburton. |