Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every fuitor. Tim. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? [To a Meflenger. Mef. Ay, my good Lord; five talents in his debt, His means moft fhort, his creditors most straight: Your honourable letter he defires To thofe have fhut him up, which failing to 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 A gentleman that well deferves a help, Which he fhall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him. Mef. Your Lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him, I will fend his ranfom ; 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. [Exit. Enter an old Athenian. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me fpeak. Tim. Freely, good father. Old Ath. Thou haft a fervant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have fo: what of him? Old Ath. Most 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 firft have been inclin'd to thrift, Tim. Well: what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a bride, F 3 And And I have bred her at my dearest coft, Tim. The man is honeft. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4) His honefty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter. Tim. Does he love him? Old Ath. She is young, and apt: Our own precedent paffions do inftru&t us, Tim. Love you the maid ? Luc. Ay, my good Lord, and 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, Tim. How fhall fhe be endowed, If fhe be mated with an equal husband? Old Ath. Three talents on the prefent, in future all. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath ferv'd me long ; To build his fortune I will ftrain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: And make him weigh with her. Old Ath. Moft noble Lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee, mine honour on my promife. Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That ftate, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you. [Exe. Luc. and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your Lordship! Tim. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon: (4) Therefore be will be, Timon.] The thought is clofely exprefs'd, and obfcure: but this feems the meaning. "If the man be honest, my Lord, for that reafon he will be fo in this; and not endeavour "at the injuftice of gaining my daughter without my confent." Mr. Warburton. Go 4 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 almoft the natural man: For fince difhonour trafficks with man's nature, Ev'n fuch as they give out. I like your work; Pain. The gods preferve ye! Tim. Well fare you, gentleman; give me your hand, We must needs dine together: Sir, your jewel Hath fuffer'd under praife. Jew. What, my Lord? difpraise? Tim. A mere fatiety of commendations. If I should 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, Are by their mafters priz'd; believe'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. Few. 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 dost thou call them knaves, thou know'st Apem. Are they not Athenians? Tim. Yes. [them not? Apem. Apem. Thou know'ft I do, I call'd thee by thy name. Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus. Apem. Of nothing fo much, as that I am not like Timon. Apem. To knock out an honeft Athenian's brains. Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. Apcm. 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 should'st, thou'dft anger Ladies. Apem. So, thou apprehend'ftit. Take it for thy labour. 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. Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o' th' flatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a Lord! Tim. What would't do then, Apemantus? Apem. Apem. Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my heart. Tim. What, thyself? Tim. Wherefore? Apem. That I had fo hungry a wit, to be a Lord.-(5) Art thou not a merchant? Mer. Ay, Apemantus. Apem. Trafick 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 horfe 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 rest. Moft welcome, Sir! [Boring and embracing. Apem. So, fo! aches contract, and ftarve your fupple joints! that there fhould be fmall love amongst thefe fweet knaves, and all this courtesy! the train of man's bred out into baboon and monkey. Alc. You have fav'd my longing, and I feed Moft hungerly on your fight. Tim. Right welcome, Sir.. E're we do part, we'll fhare a bounteous time (6) (5) 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 confcience, and to the purpose: viz. I would hate myself, for having no more wit than to covet fo infignificaat a title. In the fame fenfe Shakespeare ufes lean-witted, in his Ribard 28. And thou a lunatick, lean-witted, fool. (6) E're we depart,---] Tho' the editions concur it is certainly faulty. Who d part? Tho' Alcibiades mon, Timon was not to depart from his own houfe. favours my emendation. F 5 Mr. Warburton. in this reading, was to leave TiCommon fenfe Manet |