Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint Pain. A picture, sir.-When comes your book forth? Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Poet. Admirable: how this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. It tutors nature: artificial strife Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Pain. How this lord is follow'd! Poet. The senators of Athens :-happy man! (2) Pain. Look, more! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shap'd out 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; Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I will unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds. Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on. All those which were his fellows but of late (Some better than his value), on the moment Make sacred even his stirrup, 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 slip down,(3) Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's (4) To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head. Trumpets sound. Tim. Enter TIMON, attended; the Servant of VENTI- Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait: Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up; which failing,(5) Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he must need (6) me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, 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 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. [Exit. Enter an old Athenian. Old Ath. 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 from among the Attendants. 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 inclin'd to thrift; And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd Than one which holds a trencher. Tim. Well; what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, 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. Old Ath. She is Does she love him? 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 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. 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, Old Ath. Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. 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. Till hear further from me. you 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. 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 the 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'll bear, with your lordship. |