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THE Life of Tymon of Athens' was first published | lations of the mad-house, in the play and in the picture

in the folio collection of 1623. The text, in this first edition, has no division into acts and scenes. We have reason to believe that, with a few exceptions, it is accurately printed from the copy which was in the possession of Heininge and Condell; and we have judged it important to follow that copy with very slight variations. In our fuller editions we have entered into a minute examination of this play, for the purpose of expressing our belief that it was founded by Shakspere upon some older play, of which much has been retained; and that our poet's hand can only be traced with certainty in those scenes in which Timon appears.

The Timon of Shakspere is not the Timon of the popular stories of Shakspere's day. The 28th novel of The Palace of Pleasure' has for its title "Of the strange and beastly nature of Timon of Athens, enemy to mankind." According to this authority, "he was a man but by shape only "-he lived a beastly and churlish life." Neither was the Timon of Plutarch the Timon of Shakspere. The Greek biographer, indeed, tells us, that he was angry with all men, and would trust no man, "for the unthankfulness of those he had done good uuto, and whom he took to be his friends;" but that he was represented as “a viper and malicious man unto mankind, to shun all other men's companies but the company of young Alcibiades, a bold and insolent youth." The Timon of Plutarch, and of the popular stories of Shakspere's time, was little different from the ordinary cynic. The Timon of Shakspere is in many respects essentially different from any model with which we are acquainted, but it approaches nearer, as Mr Skottowe first observed, to the Timon of Lucian than the commentators have pointed out. The character of Shakspere's misanthrope presents one of the most striking creations of his originality.

The vices of Shakspere's Timon are not the vices of a sensualist. It is true that his offices have been oppressed with riotous feeders, that his vaults have wept with drunken spilth of wine,-that every room

are described with almost equal force and nature."
Hogarth's Rake is all sensuality and selfishness; Timon
is essentially high-minded and generous: he truly says,
in the first chill of his fortunes-

"No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart.
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given."

In his splendid speech to Apemantus in the fourth act,
he distinctly proclaims, that in the weakness with which.
he had lavished his fortunes upon the unworthy, he had
not pampered his own passions :-

"Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows."

The all-absorbing defect of Timon-the root of those
generous vices which wear the garb of virtue—is the
entire want of discrimination (by which he is also cha-
racterized in Lucian's dialogue). Shakspere has seized
upon this point, and held firmly to it. He releases Veu-
tidius from prison, he bestows an estate upon his ser-
vant,-he lavishes jewels upon all the dependants who
crowd his board. That universal philanthropy, of which
the most selfish men sometimes talk, is in Timon an
active principle; but let it be observed that he has no
preferences-a most remarkable example of the pro-
found sagacity of Shakspere. Had he loved a single
human being with that intensity which constitu'es af-
fection in the relation of the sexes, and friendship in
the relation of man to man, he would have been exempt
from that unjudging lavishness which was necessary to
satisfy his morbid craving for human sympathy.

With this key to Timon's character, appears to us that we may properly understand the “general and exceptless rashness" of his misanthropy. The only relations in which he stood to mankind are utterly destroyed. In lavishing his wealth as if it were a common property, he had believed that the same common property would flow back to him in his hour of ad

"Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray d with minstrelsy." But he has nothing selfish in the enjoyment of his prodigality and his magnificence. He himself truly expresses the weakness as well as the beauty of his own character: " Why, I have often wished 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 pre-versity. "O, you gods, think I, what need we have cious comfort 't is, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes!" Charles Lamb, in his contrast between 'Timon of Athens' and Hogarth's 'Rake's Progress,' has scarcely done justice to Timon: "The wild course of riot and extravagance, ending in the one with driving the Prodigal from the society of men into the solitude of the deserts; and, in the other, with conducting Hogarth's Rake through his several stages of dissipation into the still more complete deso- ' and certainly from his misanthropy.

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." His false confidence is at once, and irr parably, destroyed. If Timon had possessed one friend with whom he could have interchanged confidence upon equal terms, he would have been saved from his fall,

6

TIMON OF ATHEN S.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 3. Act V. sc. 2.

Appears, Act I. sc. 2.

Appears, Act II. sc. 2.

FLAMINIUS, servant to Timon.

Act III. sc. 1; sc. 4.

LUCILIUS, servant to Timon.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1.

SERVILIUS, servant to Timon.

Appears, Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 4.

CAPHIS, servant to Timon's creditors.
Appears, Act II. sc. 1; sc. 2.

PHILOTUS, servant to Timon's creditors.
Appears, Act III. sc. 4.

TITUS, servant to Timon's creditors.

Appears, Act III. sc. 4.

LUCIUS, servant to Timon's creditors.
Appears, Act III. sc. 4.

HORTENSIUS, servant to Timon's creditors.
Appeurs, Act III. sc. 4.

Two Servants of Varro, a creditor of Timon,
Appear, Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. 4.

A Servant of Isidore, a creditor of Timon.
Appears, Act II. sc. 2.
Cupid and Maskers.
Appear, Act 1. sc. 2.
Three Strangers.
Appear, Act III. sc. 2.
Poet.

Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act V. sc. 1.
Painter

Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act V. sc. 1.

Jeweller.
Appeurs, Act I. sc. 1.
Merchant.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1.
An old Athenian.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1
A Page.

Appears, Act II. sc. 2.
A Fool.

Appears, Act II. sc. 2.

PHRYNIA, a mistress to Alcibiades.

Appears, Act IV. sc. 3.

TIMANDRA, a mistress to Alcibiades.
Appears, Act IV. Bc. 3.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Banditti
and Attendants.

SCENE, ATHENS, AND THE WOODS ADJOINING.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Athens. A Hall in Timon's House. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors.

I am glad you are well.

Poet. Good day, sir.
Pain.
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 conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; th' other 's a jeweller.
Mer. 0, 't is a worthy lord!
Jero.

Nay, that 's most fix'd.
Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.b

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He passes-be excels, he goes beyond common virtues.

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This passage has been considered diff cult, but if we receive bound in the sense of boundary, obstacle, the image is tolerably clear.

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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;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet.
I'll unbolt d 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-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain.
I saw them speak together.
Poct. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinds 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.
"T is conceiv'd 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.

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?

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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,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. "T is common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show,

That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune's
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To show lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the Ser-
vant of VENTIDIUS talking with him.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his

Tim.

debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait: Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Periods his comfort.

Tim.

Noble Ventidius! Well;

I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need 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:-
"T is not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour.
Enter an Old Athenian.

[Erit.

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 man 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 rais'd 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 prithee, 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?

True,

The following is Coleridge's explanation of this passage "The meaning of the first line the poet himself explains, et rather unfo.ds, in the second. The man is honest! and for that very cause, and with no additional or extrinsic motive, he will be so. No man can be justly called honest who is not so for honesty's sake, itself including its own reward.''

SCENE 1.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

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 would strain a little,

For 't is 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 pro

mise.

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;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are
I like your work; ·
Even such as they give out.
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.

Jero.

What, my lord? dispraise?
Tim. A meer satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for 't as 't is extoll'd
It would unclew me quite.

Jew.

My lord, 't is 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.

Jero. We will bear with your lordship.
He'll spare none.
Mer.
Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good mor-

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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?

Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou know'st I do; I called thee by thy

name.

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the 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;
and yet he 's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. You are a dog.

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

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

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Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

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!

Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.

Tim. What trumpet 's that?

Serv. T is Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.

Tim. Pray entertain them; give them guide to us.-
[Exeunt some Attendants.
You must needs dine with me:-Go not you hence
Till I have thank'd you; and, when dinner 's done,
Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his company.
[They salute.
Most welcome, sir!
So, so; there!-
Apem.
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!-
That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet

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Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am not like In different pleasures.

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Pray you, let us in.

Right welcome, sir.

[Exeunt all but APEMANTCS

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Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend.

2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. [Exit.

1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, 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.

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, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon,

It hath pleas'd the gods to 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,
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose help
I deriv'd 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 nobie spirit.

[They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON. Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd st first

To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 't is shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
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 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. Fye, thou 'rt a churl; you have got a humour

there

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Go, let him have a table by himself;
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for 't, indeed.

Apem. Let me stay at thine apperil,* 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: prithee, let my meat make thee silent.

Apem. I scorn thy meat; 't would choke me, for I should

Ne'er flatter thee.-O 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.

I wonder men dare trust themselves with men :
Methinks, they should invite them without knives;
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
There's much example for 't; the fellow, that
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges
The breath of him in a divided draught,

Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov`d.
If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes.
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem. Flow this way! A brave fellow

his tides well.

he keeps

Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill,
Timon:

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.

[Eats 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 ene mies then; that then thou mightst 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 cur selves 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! sły have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more ef you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in Apperil. The word repeatedly occurs in Ben Jonson, as in

the Tale of a Tub:'

"As you will answer it at your apperil." Every guest in our author's time brought his own knife.

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