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Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addreffing himself courteously to every fuitor.

Tim. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? [To a Messenger.
Mef. Ay, my good lord; five talents is his debt,
His means moft fhort, his creditors most straight:
Your honourable letter he defires

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 moft needs me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deferves a help,

Which he shall have, I'll pay the debt, and free him.
Mef. Your lordship ever binds 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.
Mef. ÂÎl happiness to your Honour!

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 :
The maid is fair, o'th' youngest for a bride,

And

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 ;
My felf have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honeft.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4)
His honefty rewards him in it self,
It must not bear my daughter.

Tim. Does fhe love him?
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

Our own precedent paffions do inftru&t us,,
What levity's in youth.

Tim. Love you the maid?

Luc. Ay, my good lord, ad fhe accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my confent be miffing,
I call the Gods to witnefs, I will chufe

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And difpoffefs her all.

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:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoife,
And make him weigh with her.

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 :
For fince difhonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but out-fide: pencil'd figures are
Ev'n fuch as they give out. I like your Work;
And you fhall 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 fuffer'd under praise.

Jew. What, my lord? difpraife?
Tim. A meer fatiety of commendations :
If I fhould pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,

It would unclew me quite.

Jew. My lord, 'tis rated

As thofe, which fell, would give: but you well know,
Things of like value, differing in the owners,

Are by their masters priz'd; 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 fpeak with him.

Tim. Look, who comes here.

Will you be chid ?

Enter Apemantus.

Jew. We'll bear it with your lordship.
Mer. He'll fpare none.

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?
Tim. Yes.

Apem.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou know'ft 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 honeft Athenian's brains.
Tim. That's a deed thoul't die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim. How lik'ft thou this Picture, Apemantus?
Apem. The beft, 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. 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?
Apem. Ay.

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!
Mer. If Traffick do it, the Gods do it.

Apem. Traffick's thy God, and thy God confound thee!
Trumpets found. Enter a Messenger.

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.
Moft

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