Poet. world? Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. 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; 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 continuate2 goodness: Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir? It stains the glory in that happy verse '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 dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. (1) Inured by constant practice. (2) For continual. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes Poel. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent. (3) i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. character. Leaving no track behind. Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran som; I'll unbolt' to you. And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me: You see how all conditions, how all minds terer,2 To Apemantus, that few things loves better Pain. mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, Pain. 'Tis 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? 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. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the His means most short, his creditors most strait: To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; 1 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. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Tim. Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius! Enter Lucilius. Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state of 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? (3) To advance their conditions of life. Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus. "Tis Alcibiades, and Some twenty horse, all of companionship. Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to [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. Most welcome, sir! [They salute. Apem. So, so; there! Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not Aches contract and starve your supple joints! like Timon. Tim. Whither art going? Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for. 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? Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies. Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great belles. Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension. Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: Take it for thy labour. (1) Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be. (2) To unclew a man, is to draw out the whole mass of his fortunes. That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves, And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey.* Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight. Tim. Right welcome, sir: Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt all but Apemantus. |