« AnteriorContinua »
TI MON OF ATHENS.
A C Τ Ι.
SCENE, a Hall in Timon's House.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweler, Merchant, and
Mercer, at several Doors..
OOD day, Sir.
Pain. I am glad y'are well.
Poet. I have not seen you long: how goes Pain. It wears, Sir, as it goes.
[the world? Poet. Ay, that's well known. But what particular rarity? what so strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magie of Bounty!) all these fpirits thy power Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; th other's a jeweler. Mer. O'tis a worthy Lord ! jew. Nay, that's most fixed.
Mer.. A most incomparable man, breathed as it To an untirable and continuate goodness. [were He pases
few. 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 that.
Poet. When we for recompence have praised the It ftains the glory in that happy verfe. [vile, Which aptly fings the good.
Mer. "Tis a good form. [Looking on the jewel. jew. And rich; here is a water, look ye.
Pain. You're rapt, Sir, in some work, some
Pain. 'Tis a good piece. .
Poet. Admirable ! how this grace
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life :
Poet. I'll say of it,
(:) Each hound it chases.-) How chases? The flood, in-
The murmuring furge,
The troubled Tiber, chifing with his shores.
Enter certain Senators.
Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt to you.
grave and austere quality, tender down
Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. I have upon a high and pleasant hill (2) Happy men!] Thus the printed copies; but I cannot think the Poet meant that the fenators were happy in be ing admitted to Timon; their quality might command that; but that Timon was happy in being followed and carefred by those of their rank and dignity.
Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o' th'
Pain. 'Tis conceived to the scope. (3)
Poet. Nay, 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 facrificial whisp'rings in his ear; Make sacred even his stirrup ; and through him Drink the free air.
Pain. Ay, márry, what of these? (3) 'Tis conceived, to siope This throne, this fortune, &c.] Thus all the editors hitherto have nonsenûcally writ aed pointed this passage. But fure the painter would tell the poct, your conceptions, Sir, hit the very scope you aim at. This the Greeks would have sendered, rõ OXoti tuxeis, reéta ad fc pum tendis; and Cicero has thus expreffed on the like occasion, Signum oculis destinatum feris. This sense our Author, in his Henry VIII. ere preffes ;
I think you've hit the mark.
Him, and his worth, and our great aced of him,
Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of
mood Spurns doivn her late beloved, all his dependants (Which laboured after 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 shew, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of
Fortune More pregriantly then words. Yet you do well To shew Lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head. Trumpets.sound. Enter timon, addressing himself
courteously to every Suitor. Tim. Imprisoned is he, fay you? [To a Melent.
Mes. Ay, my good Lord; five talents in his debt, His means molt fort, his creditors most straight Your honourable letter he defires To those have shut himn'up, which failing to him Periods his comfort.
Tim. Noble Ventidius! well...
Mes, Your Lordship ever binds him.
Mef. All happiness to your honour ! [Exit.