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Timon,e noble Athenian.
Lucins,
Lucullus, Lords, and flatterers of Tinon.
Sempronius,
Ventidius, one of Timon's false Friends.
Apemanlus, a churlish Philosopher,
Alcibiades, an Athenian General,
Flavins , Steward to Timon.
Flaminius,
Lucilius, Timon's Servants.
Servilins,
Caphis,
Philotus,
Titus; Servants to Timon's Creditors.
Lucius,
Horiensius,
Two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of

Isidore; two of Timnon's Creditors.
Cupid and Maskers. Three Strangers.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
An old Athenian. A Page. A Fool.

Phrynia, *
Timandra,

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Mistresses to Alcibiades.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers,

Thieves, and Attendants.
SCENE, Athens; and the Woods adjoining.

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Enter Poet , Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and

Others, at several doors,
Poet. Good day, Sir.
Puin. I am glad you are well.
Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the

world?
Pain. It wears, Sir, as it grows.

Poet. Ay', that's well known :
Put what particular rarity ? what strange,
Which inanifold record not matches? See,
Magick of bounty! all these spirits thy power,
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant,
Pain. I know thein both; t'other's a jeweller.
Mer. 0, 'tis a worthy lord !
Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd.

Mer. A inost incomparable man; breath'd, as
To an untirable and contiunate goodness :
He passes.

it were,

Jew. I have a jewel here.
Mer. 0, pray, let's see't: For the lord Ti-

mon, Sir? Jew. If he will tonch the estimate: But, for

that Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd

the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.
Mer. "Iis a good form.

(Looking on the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water , look you. Pain. You are rapt, Sir, in some work, somo

dedication To the great lord.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint Shows not, iill it be struck ; our gentle flame Provnkes iisclf, and, like the currept, flics Lach bound it chafes. What have you there? Pain. A picture, Sir.

And when comes your

book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, Sir. Let's see your piece,

Pain. 'Tis a good piece.
Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent..
Pain. Indifferent.

Poet. Admirable: How this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumhness of the gesture
One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. llerc is a touch ; Is't good ?

Poet. I'll say of it,

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