« PreviousContinue »
TIMON OF ATHENS.
ACT THE FIRST.
Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others,
at several Doors.
Poet. Good day, sir.
I am glad you are well.
Ay, that's well known:
Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller.
Nay, that's most fix'd.
Jew. I have a jewel here.
1 Inured by constant practice. 2 Continual.
Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon sir ?
”Tis a good form.
(Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich : here 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 nourished : The fire i’ the flint Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes. What have
there? Pain. A picture, sir. — And when comes your
book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment“, 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
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
I'll say of it,
* As soon as my book has been presented to Tinion.
si.c. The contest of art with nature.
sir ? at d the
Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How shall I understand you ?
i'll unbolt to you.
grave and austere quality,) tender down
I saw them speak together.
6 My design does not stop at any particular character.
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
"Tis conceiv'd to scope.
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When fortune, in her shrift 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 That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune 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
Servant of Ventidius talking with him. Tim.
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
Noble Ventidius ! Well;
him. Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran
some; 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.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! (Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Freely, good father.
fore thee. Tim. Attends he here, or no ? Lucilius !
Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Well; what further ? Old. Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: