POET. You see this confluence, this great flood of vifitors. I have, in this rough work, fhap'd out a man, But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, PAIN. How fhall I understand POET. I'll unbolt to you. you ? You fee how all conditions, how all minds, (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Of grave and auftere quality,) tender down. Their fervices to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All forts of hearts; yea, from the glafs-fac'd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himfelf: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Moft rich in Timon's nod. PAIN. I faw them speak together, POET. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The bafe o'the mount Is rank'd with all deferts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bofom of this sphere To propagate their ftates: amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this fovereign lady fix'd, One do I perfonate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present flaves and servants PAIN. 'Tis conceiv'd to fcope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, POET. Nay, fir, but hear me on: All those which were his fellows but of late, Make facred even his ftirrop, and through him PAIN. Ay, marry, what of these? POET. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, 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 show, That shall demonftrate these quick blows of fortune Trumpets found. Enter TIMON, attended; the SERVANT of TIM. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? VEN. SERV. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt; His means moft fhort, his creditors moft ftrait : Your honourable letter he defires 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 must need me. I do know him Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. VEN. SERV. Your lordship ever binds him. TIM. Commend me to him: I will fend his ransom; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me :— 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to fupport him after.-Fare you well. VEN. SERV. All happiness to your honour! [Exit. OLD ATH. Lord Timon, hear me speak. TIM. Freely, good father. OLD ATH. Thou haft a fervant nam'd Lucilius. TIM. I have fo: What of him? [thee. OLD ATH. Moft noble Timon, call the man before TIM. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius! Enter LUCILIUS. Luc. Here, at your lordship's fervice. [ture, OLD ATH. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy crea By night frequents my houfe. I am a man That from my first have been inclin❜d to thrift ; Than one which holds a trencher. TIM. Well; what further? OLD ATH. One only daughter have I, no kin else, Myself have spoke in vain. TIM. The man is honeft. OLD ATH. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter. TIM. Does she love him? OLD ATH. She is young, and apt: Our own precedent paffions do instruct us TIM. [to LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid? of it. OLD ATH. If in her marriage my confent be miffing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, 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 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, fhe 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. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your ship! TIM. I thank you; you fhall hear from me anon: lord 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; And PAIN, The gods preferve you! TIM. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath fuffer'd under praise, JEW. What, my lord? difpraife? TIM. A meer fatiety of commendations, JEW. My lord, 'tis rated hand; well know, As thofe, which fell, would give: But you Are prized by their masters: 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? JEW. We will bear, 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. |