| ACT I SCENE I | Athens. A hall in Timon's House. | |
| [
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and
others, at several doors
] |
| Poet | Good day, sir. |
| Painter | I am glad you're well. |
| Poet | I have not seen you long: how goes the world? |
| Painter | It wears, sir, as it grows. |
| Poet | Ay, that's well known: | 5 |
| But what particular rarity? what strange, |
| Which manifold record not matches? See, |
| Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power |
| Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant. |
| Painter | I know them both; th' other's a jeweller. | 10 |
| Merchant | O, 'tis a worthy lord. |
| Jeweller | Nay, that's most fix'd. |
| Merchant | A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, |
| To an untirable and continuate goodness: |
| He passes. | 15 |
| Jeweller: | I have a jewel here-- |
| Merchant | O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir? |
| Jeweller: | If he will touch the estimate: but, for that-- |
| Poet | [Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have
|
| praised the vile, | 20 |
| It stains the glory in that happy verse |
| Which aptly sings the good.' |
| Merchant | 'Tis a good form. |
| [Looking at the jewel] |
| Jeweller | And rich: here is a water, look ye. |
| Painter | You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication | 25 |
| To the great lord. |
| Poet | A thing slipp'd idly from me. |
| Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes |
| From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint |
| Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame | 30 |
| Provokes itself and like the current flies |
| Each bound it chafes. What have you there? |
| Painter | A picture, sir. When comes your book forth? |
| Poet | Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. |
| Let's see your piece. | 35 |
| Painter | 'Tis a good piece. |
| Poet | So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. |
| Painter | Indifferent. |
| Poet | Admirable: how this grace |
| Speaks his own standing! what a mental power | 40 |
| This eye shoots forth! how big imagination |
| Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture |
| One might interpret. |
| Painter | It is a pretty mocking of the life. |
| Here is a touch; is't good? | 45 |
| Poet | I will say of it, |
| It tutors nature: artificial strife |
| Lives in these touches, livelier than life. |
| [Enter certain Senators, and pass over] |
| Painter | How this lord is follow'd! |
| Poet | The senators of Athens: happy man! | 50 |
| Painter | Look, more! |
| Poet | You see this confluence, this great flood |
| of visitors. |
| I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, |
| Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug | 55 |
| 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, | 60 |
| Leaving no tract behind. |
| Painter | How shall I understand you? |
| Poet | I will unbolt to you. |
| You see how all conditions, how all minds, |
| As well of glib and slippery creatures as | 65 |
| 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-faced flatterer | 70 |
| 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. |
| Painter | I saw them speak together. | 75 |
| Poet | Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill |
| Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount |
| Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, |
| That labour on the bosom of this sphere |
| To propagate their states: amongst them all, | 80 |
| 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. | 85 |
| Painter | 'Tis conceived to scope. |
| This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, |
| With one man beckon'd from the rest below, |
| Bowing his head against the sleepy mount |
| To climb his happiness, would be well express'd | 90 |
| 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, | 95 |
| Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, |
| Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him |
| Drink the free air. |
| Painter | Ay, marry, what of these? |
| Poet | When Fortune in her shift and change of mood | 100 |
| Spurns down her late beloved, 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. |
| Painter | 'Tis common: | 105 |
| 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. | 110 |
| [
Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself
courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from
VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other
servants following
] |
| TIMON | Imprison'd is he, say you? |
| Messenger | 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, | 115 |
| Periods his comfort. |
| TIMON | 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: | 120 |
| Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, |
| and free him. |
| Messenger | Your lordship ever binds him. |
| TIMON | Commend me to him: I will send his ransom; |
| And being enfranchised, bid him come to me. | 125 |
| 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, |
| But to support him after. Fare you well. |
| Messenger | All happiness to your honour! |
| [Exit] |
| [Enter an old Athenian] |
| Old Athenian | Lord Timon, hear me speak. |
| TIMON | Freely, good father. | 130 |
| Old Athenian | Thou hast a servant named Lucilius. |
| TIMON | I have so: what of him? |
| Old Athenian | Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. |
| TIMON | Attends he here, or no? Lucilius! |
| LUCILIUS | Here, at your lordship's service. | 135 |
| Old Athenian | 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 raised |
| Than one which holds a trencher. | 140 |
| TIMON | Well; what further? |
| Old Athenian | 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 | 145 |
| 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. |
| TIMON | The man is honest. | 150 |
| Old Athenian | Therefore he will be, Timon: |
| His honesty rewards him in itself; |
| It must not bear my daughter. |
| TIMON | Does she love him? |
| Old Athenian | She is young and apt: | 155 |
| Our own precedent passions do instruct us |
| What levity's in youth. |
| TIMON | [To LUCILIUS] Love you the maid?
|
| LUCILIUS | Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. |
| Old Athenian | If in her marriage my consent be missing, | 160 |
| I call the gods to witness, I will choose |
| Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, |
| And dispossess her all. |
| TIMON | How shall she be endow'd, |
| if she be mated with an equal husband? | 165 |
| Old Athenian | Three talents on the present; in future, all. |
| TIMON | This gentleman of mine hath served me long: |
| 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, | 170 |
| And make him weigh with her. |
| Old Athenian | Most noble lord, |
| Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. |
| TIMON | My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. |
| LUCILIUS | Humbly I thank your lordship: never may | 175 |
| The state or fortune fall into my keeping, |
| Which is not owed to you! |
| [Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian] |
| Poet | Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! |
| TIMON | I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: |
| Go not away. What have you there, my friend? | 180 |
| Painter | A piece of painting, which I do beseech |
| Your lordship to accept. |
| TIMON | Painting is welcome. |
| The painting is almost the natural man; |
| or since dishonour traffics with man's nature, | 185 |
| He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are |
| Even such as they give out. I like your work; |
| And you shall find I like it: wait attendance |
| Till you hear further from me. |
| Painter | The gods preserve ye! | 190 |
| TIMON | Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; |
| We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel |
| Hath suffer'd under praise. |
| Jeweller | What, my lord! dispraise? |
| TIMON | A more satiety of commendations. | 195 |
| If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, |
| It would unclew me quite. |
| Jeweller | My lord, 'tis rated |
| As those which sell would give: but you well know, |
| Things of like value differing in the owners | 200 |
| Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord, |
| You mend the jewel by the wearing it. |
| TIMON | Well mock'd. |
| Merchant | No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, |
| Which all men speak with him. | 205 |
| TIMON | Look, who comes here: will you be chid? |
| [Enter APEMANTUS] |
| Jeweller | We'll bear, with your lordship. |
| Merchant | He'll spare none. |
| TIMON | Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! |
| APEMANTUS | Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; | 210 |
| When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. |
| TIMON | Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not. |
| APEMANTUS | Are they not Athenians? |
| TIMON | Yes. |
| APEMANTUS | Then I repent not. | 215 |
| Jeweller | You know me, Apemantus? |
| APEMANTUS | Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name. |
| TIMON | Thou art proud, Apemantus. |
| APEMANTUS | Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon. |
| TIMON | Whither art going? | 220 |
| APEMANTUS | To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. |
| TIMON | That's a deed thou'lt die for. |
| APEMANTUS | Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. |
| TIMON | How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? |
| APEMANTUS | The best, for the innocence. | 225 |
| TIMON | Wrought he not well that painted it? |
| APEMANTUS | He wrought better that made the painter; and yet |
| he's but a filthy piece of work. |
| Painter | You're a dog. |
| APEMANTUS | Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog? | 230 |
| TIMON | Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? |
| APEMANTUS | No; I eat not lords. |
| TIMON | An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies. |
| APEMANTUS | O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies. |
| TIMON | That's a lascivious apprehension. | 235 |
| APEMANTUS | So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour. |
| TIMON | How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? |
| APEMANTUS | Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a |
| man a doit. |
| TIMON | What dost thou think 'tis worth? | 240 |
| APEMANTUS | Not worth my thinking. How now, poet! |
| Poet | How now, philosopher! |
| APEMANTUS | Thou liest. |
| Poet | Art not one? |
| APEMANTUS | Yes. | 245 |
| Poet | Then I lie not. |
| APEMANTUS | Art not a poet? |
| Poet | Yes. |
| APEMANTUS | Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou |
| hast feigned him a worthy fellow. | 250 |
| Poet | That's not feigned; he is so. |
| APEMANTUS | Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy |
| labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' |
| the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord! |
| TIMON | What wouldst do then, Apemantus? | 255 |
| APEMANTUS | E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart. |
| TIMON | What, thyself? |
| APEMANTUS | Ay. |
| TIMON | Wherefore? |
| APEMANTUS | That I had no angry wit to be a lord. | 260 |
| Art not thou a merchant? |
| Merchant | Ay, Apemantus. |
| APEMANTUS | Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! |
| Merchant | If traffic do it, the gods do it. |
| APEMANTUS | Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee! | 265 |
| [Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger] |
| TIMON | What trumpet's that? |
| Messenger | 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, |
| All of companionship. |
| TIMON | Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us. |
[Exeunt some Attendants] |
| You must needs dine with me: go not you hence | 270 |
| Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done, |
| Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. |
[Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest] |
| Most welcome, sir! |
| APEMANTUS | So, so, there! |
| Aches contract and starve your supple joints! | 275 |
| That there should be small love 'mongst these |
| sweet knaves, |
| And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out |
| Into baboon and monkey. |
| ALCIBIADES | Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed | 280 |
| Most hungerly on your sight. |
| TIMON | Right welcome, sir! |
| Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time |
| In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. |
| [Exeunt all except APEMANTUS] |
| [Enter two Lords] |
| First Lord | What time o' day is't, Apemantus? | 285 |
| APEMANTUS | Time to be honest. |
| First Lord | That time serves still. |
| APEMANTUS | The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it. |
| Second Lord | Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast? |
| APEMANTUS | Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools. | 290 |
| Second Lord | Fare thee well, fare thee well. |
| APEMANTUS | Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. |
| Second Lord | Why, Apemantus? |
| APEMANTUS | Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to |
| give thee none. | 295 |
| First Lord | Hang thyself! |
| APEMANTUS | No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy |
| requests to thy friend. |
| Second Lord | Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence! |
| APEMANTUS | I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass. | 300 |
| [Exit] |
| First Lord | He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, |
| And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes |
| The very heart of kindness. |
| Second Lord | He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, |
| Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays | 305 |
| Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, |
| But breeds the giver a return exceeding |
| All use of quittance. |
| First Lord | The noblest mind he carries |
| That ever govern'd man. | 310 |
| Second Lord | Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in? |
| First Lord | I'll keep you company. |
| [Exeunt] |
Sources for Timon of Athens