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His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather, to shake off
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, But to support him after. — Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Exit.
Enter an Old Athenian.
Old Athenian. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: what of him?
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
Tim. Attends he here, or no ? — Lucilius!
[lucilius comes forward.
Lucilius. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old 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 Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim. Well; what farther?
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, —
And I have bred her at my dearest cost
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.
Tim. The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:
Tim. Does she love him?
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Tim. \_To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord; and she accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all.
Tim. How shall she be endow'd,
If she 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 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.
Old Ath. Most 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 ow'd to you!
[Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian.
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 painting is almost the natural man;
Pain. The gods preserve ye!
Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; We must needs dine together. — Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew. What, my lord! dispraise?
Tim. A mere satiety of commendations.
Jew. My lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give: but you well know,
Tim. Well mock'd.
Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him.
Tim. Look, who comes here. WTill you be chid? Enter Apemantus.
Jew. We'll bear with your lordship.
Mer. He'll spare none.
Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.
Apemantus. 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?
Apem. Then I repent not.
Jew. You know me, Apemantus.
Apem. Thou know'st I do; I eall'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 honest Athenian's brains.
Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for.
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' law.
Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
Apem. The best, for the innocence.
Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it?
Apem. He wrought better that made the painter; md yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. Y' are a dog.
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
Apem. No; I eat not lords.
Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.
Apem. 0, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Apem. So thou apprehend'st it. Take it for thy labour.
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apem.. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking. — How now, poet!
Poet. How now, philosopher!
Apem. Thou liest.
Poet. Art not one?
Poet. Then, I lie not.
Apem. Art not a poet?
Apem. Then, thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet. That's not feign'd; he is so.
Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!
Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Apem. E'en as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.
Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord. — Art not thou a merchant?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it.
Apem, Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee \