640

And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.—
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.
[To Belarius.
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.

Cym. All o'erjoy'd,

Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo. My good master,

I will yet do you service.

Luc. Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced

The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, Sir,

The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd;-That I was he, Speak, lachimo; I had you down, and might Have made you finish.

Iuch. I am down again :

you,

[Kneeling.

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech
I so often owe: but, your ring first!
Which
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post. Kneel not to me:

The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The inalice towards you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You holp us, Sir,

As you did mean indeed to be our brother:
Joy'd are we, that you are.

Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord of
Rome,

Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,

Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows⚫

Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found

This label on my bosom; whose containing

Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him shew
His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonus,~~

Sooth. Here, my good lord,

Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air: and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.

Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,

[To Cymbeline.

Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier I divine,
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about +
With this most tender air.

Cym. Well,

Cym. Laud we the gods;

And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace

To all our subjects. Set we forward: let

A Roman and a British ensign wave

Friendly together: so through Lud's town march:
And in the temple of great Jupiter

Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.-
Set on there :-Never was a war did cease,

Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt.

SONG,

SUNG BY GUIDERIUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.

BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove ;
But shepherd lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew:
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
The red-breast oft at evening hours,
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds, and beating rain,
In tempest shake the sylvan cell;
Or midst the chace on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed:
Beloved, till life could charm no more;
And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.

Poet, Good day, Sir.

Pain. 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:

But what particular rarity? What strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both: t'other's a jeweller.
Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord!

Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd.

Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,

To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes 1.

Jew. I have a jewel here.

Mer. O, pray, let's see't: for the lord Timon, Sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but, for thatPoet. When we for recompense have praised the vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse

Which aptly sings the good.

Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking at the Jewel.
Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you.
Pain. You are rapt, Sir, in some work, some de-

dication

To the great lord.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes

From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
Shews not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, Sir.-And when comes your

book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment ý, 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 This eye shoots forth! How big imagination Speaks his own standing! What a mental power Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture

One

might interpret.

Inured by constant practice.

For continual.

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

Poet. I'll say of it,

It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord's follow'd!

Poet. The senators of Athens :-Happy men!
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of

visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shaped ont a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt‡ to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality), tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flat-

terer 9,

To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and retarus in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I saw them speak together.

Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the

mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pain. 'Tis conceived to scope.

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

Timon.

To advance their conditions of life.

Poet. Nay, Sir, but hear me on:

All those which were his fellows but of late
(Some better than his value), on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.

Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,

Spurns down her late-beloved, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. 'Tis common:

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever-binds him.

Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransome;

And, being enfranchised, 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 Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the inan before thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!

Enter LUCILIUS.

Luc. 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 inclined to thrift: And my estate deserves an heir more raised, Than one which holds a trencher.

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' the 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: 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 passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

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 mis-

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not owed 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;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are
Even such as they give out •. I like your work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.

Pain. The gods preserve you!
Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: give me your

hand;

We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jew. What, my lord? Dispraise?

Tim. A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.

Jew. My lord, 'tis rated

As those, which sell, would give: but you well know,

Things of like value, differing in the owners,

Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord, You mend the jewel by wearing it.

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. Will you be chid?

Enter APEMANTUS.

Jew. We will bear with your lordship.
Mer. He'll spare none.

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves ho nest.

Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know ine, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou knowest, I do; I call'd thee by thy

name.

Apem. Thy mother's of my generation; what's she, if I be a dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

Apem. No; I cat not lords.

Tim. An thon shouldst, thon'dst anger ladies. Apem. O, they cat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: take it for thy

labour.

• Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be.

To unclew a man, is to draw out the whole mass of his fortunes.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Apem. Not worth my thinking.-llow now, poet?
Puct. How now, philosopher?
Apem. Thou liest.

Port. Art not one?
Apem. Yes.

Port. Then I ile not.

Apem. Art not a poet î Poet. Yes.

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 flatter'd, is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus!

Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance 4.

1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries, That ever govern'd man.

2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in ?

1 Lord. I'll keep you company.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.-A Room of State in
Timon's House.

Hautboys playing loud Music.-A great Banquet

served in; Flavius and others attending; then
enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS,
SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with
VENTIDIUS, and Attendants.-Then comes, drop-
ping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.
Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleased the
gods remember

My father's age, and call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich;
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Trallic confound thee, if the gods will

help

I derived liberty.

Tim. O, by no means,

Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;
I gave it freely ever; and there's none
Can truly say, he gives, if he receives:

If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them; faults that are rich, are fair.
Ven. A noble spirit.

They all stand ceremoniously looking on
Timon.

Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony
Was but devised at first, to set a gloss
On faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shewn ;
But where there is true friendship, there needs
Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes,
Than my fortunes to me.
[They sit.
1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it.
Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it? Hang'd it, have you

none.

not?

Tim. O, Apemantus !-you are welcome.
Apem. No,

You shall not make me welcome :

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
Tim. Fie, thou art a churi; you have got a hu-
mour there

Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame:
They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est*,
But yond' man's ever angry.

Go, let him have a table by himself;
For he does neither affect company,.
Nor is he fit for it, indeed.

Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon; I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.

Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian; therefore welcome: I myself would have no power; pr'ythee, let my neat make thee silent.

Apem. I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for

I should

Ne'er flatter thee.-0 you gods! what a number
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not!
It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat
In one man's blood; and all the madness is,
He cheers them up too.

Methinks they should invite them without knives;
I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men :
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and
There's much example fort; the fellow, that
pledges

The breath of him in undivided draught,
Is the readiest man to kill him; it has been proved.
If I
Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;

Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner,
Honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:
This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds.
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
APEMANTUS'S GRACE.

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf:
I pray for no man, but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond;
Or a harlot, for her weeping;
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping ;
Or a keeper with my freedom;

Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen. So fall to't:

Rich men sin, and I eat root.

[Euts and drinks. Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field

now.

Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my lord. Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, than a dinner of friends.

Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like them; I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then; that then thou might'st kill 'em, and

bid me to 'em.

1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals we should think ourselves for ever perfect §.

Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you: How had you been my friends else? Why have you that charitable title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wisir'd myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you.-We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon. 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that instant, like a babe sprung np. Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.

Apem. Much¶. [Tucket sounded. Tim. What means that trump?-How now?

Enter a SERVANT.

Enter CUPID.

That of his bounties taste!-The five best senses
Cupid. Hail to thee, worthy Timon; and to all
Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely
To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: the ear,
Taste, touch, smell, all pleased from thy table rise;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Tim. They are welcome all, let them have kind
admittance:
[Exit Cupid.

Music, make their welcome.

1 Lord. You see, my lord, how aniple you are beloved.

Music.-Re-enter CUPID, with a masque of LADIES " as Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing and playing.

Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way!

They dance! they are mad women.
Like madness is the glory of this life,

As this pomp shews to a little oil, and root.
We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,
Upon whose age we void it up again.

With poisonous spite, and envy. Who lives, that's

not

Depraved, or depraves? Who dies, that bears
Not one spurn to their graves of their friends' gift?
I should fear, those that dance before me now
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
Would one day stamp upon me: It has been done;

The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of
Timon; and, to shew their loves, each singles out
an Amazon, and all dance, Men with Women, a
lofty Strain or two to the Hautboys, and cease.
Tim. You have done our pleasures much grace,
fair ladies,

Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
You have added worth unto't, and lively lustre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device;
I am to thank you for it.

1 Lady. My lord, yon take us even at the best. not hold taking, I doubt me. Apem. 'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet Attends you: please you to dispose yourselves. All Lad. Most thankfully, my lord.

Tim. Flavius,Flav. My lord.

[Exeunt Cupid, and Ladies.

Tim. The little casket bring me hither. There is no crossing him in his humour; Flav. Yes, my lord.-More jewels yet! Else I should tell him,-Well,-i'faith, I should, When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he

could.

[Aside.

'Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind; That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind ↑. (Erit, and returns with the Casket. 1 Lord. Where be our men? Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness.

2 Lord. Our horses.

To say to you:-Look you, my good lord, I must
Tim. O my friends, I have one word
Entreat you, honour me so much, as to
Advance this jewel;

Accept, and wear it, kind my lord.

1 Lord. I am so far already in your gifts,-All. So are we all.

Newly alighted, and come to visit you.
Tim. They are fairly welcome.
Flav. I beseech your honour,

ladies most desirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies? What are their wills?

Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, my

Tim. Near? why then another time I'll hear

thee:

pr'ythee, let us be provided

7