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To climb his Happiness, would be well expres
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 Stirrop, 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 beloved; all his Dependants,
Which labour'd after him 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 show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune,
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To fhew Lord Timon, that mean Eyes have seen,
The Foot above the Head.
Trumpets found. Enter Lord Timon addreffing himself cour.

teously to every Suitor.
Tim. Imprisoned is he, say you? [To a Messenger.

Mef. Ay, my good Lord, five Talents is his Debt,
His means most mort, his Creditors most straight:
Your honourable Letter he defires
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 moit needs me. I do know him
A Gentleman that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have. I'll pay the Debt, and free him.

Mes. Your Lordship ever binds him,

Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his Ransom,
And being Enfranchized, bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after. . Fare you well.
Mief. All Happiness to your Honour.



Enter an Old Athenian.
0. Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good Father.
0. Ath. Thou hast a Servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?
0. Ath. Most Noble Timon, call the Man before thee.
Tim. Attends he bere or no? Lucilius.

Enter Lucilius.
Lucil. Here, at your Lordship’s Service.

0. Ath. This Fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy Creature
By Night frequents my House. I am a Man
That from my first have been inclin'd to Thrift,
And my Estate deserves an Heir more rais’d,
Than one which holds a Trencher.

Tim. Well : What further?
0. Ath. One only Daughter have I, no Kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The Maid is fair, o'th' 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 pray thee, Noble Lord,
Join with me to forbid him her Resort;
My self have spoke in vain,

Tim. The Man is honest.

0. Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon, His honesty rewards him in it felf, It must not bear my Daughter.

Tim. Does she love him?

0. Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent Pallions do inftru& us,
What levity's in Youth.

Tim. Love you the Maid?
Lucil. Ay, my good Lord, and the accepts of it.

0. Ath. If in her Marriage my confent be missing,
I call the Gods to witness, I will chuse
Mine Heir from forth the Beggars of the World,
And difpofféfs her all.

Tim. How shall she be endowed,
If she be mated with an equal Husband?

O. Ath. Three Talents on the present, in future all.
Tim. This Gentleman of mine bath serv'd 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,
And make him weigh with her,

0. Ath. Most noble Lord,
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 or Fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you.

[Exit, 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 Lord thip to accept.

Tim. Painting is welcome.
The Painting is almost the natural Man :
For fince Dishonour trafficks with Man's Nature,
He is but out-lide: The Pealild Figures are
Even such as they give our. I like your work,
And you shall find I like it: Wait Attendance
'Til you hear further from me.

Pain. The Gods preserve ye,

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman; Give me your Hand, We must needs dine together : Sir, your Jewel Hath suffered under Praise.

Jew. Whit my Lord? dispraise ?

Tem. A meer saciety of Commendations,
If I should pay you for’t as 'tis extollid,
It would unclew me quite.

Few. My Lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give; But you well know,
Things of like value differing in the Owners,
Are priz'd lo by their Matters. Believ't, dear Lord,
You me d the Jewel by the wearing it.
Tim. Well mock’d.

Enter Apemantus.
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? Jew. We'll bear with your Lordship. Mer. He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus. Apem. 'Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow : When thou art Timon's Dog, and thefe 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 call’d thee by thy Name.
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon.
Tim. Whither art going?
Apem. To knock out an honest Athenians Brains.
Tim. That's a deed thou’lt die for.
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be Death by the Law.
Tim. How lik’st thou this Pi&ure, Apemantus ?
Apem. The best, for the Innocence.
Tim. Wrought he not well that Painted it?

Apem. He wrought better i hat made the Painter, and yer he's but a filthy piece of work.

Pain. Y’are a Dog.
Apem. Thy Mother's of my Generation: What's the,
If I be a Dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Apem. No, I eat not Lords.
Tim. And thou should'it, thoud'st anger Ladies.

Apem. O, they eat Lords,
So they come by great Bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apem. So thou apprehend'st it. Take it for thy Labour.

Tim. How doft thou like this Jewel, Apemantus ? Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a Man a Doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?


Apem. Not worth my thinking.
How now, Poet?

Poet. How now, Philosopher ?
Apem. Thou lieft.
Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a Poet?
Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou lieft :
Look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd him a wor-
thy Fellow.
Poct. That's not feign'd, he is fo.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of chee, and to pay thee for thy Labour. He that loves to be flattered is worthy o'th' Alatrerer. Heavens, that I were a Lord!

Tim. What would't do then, Apemantas?
Apem. E'vn as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with

my Heart.

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Tim. Wia', thy self?
Apem. Ay.
Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.
Art not thou a Merchant ?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not.
Mer. If Traffick do it, the Gods do it,
Apem. Traffick's thy God, and thy God confound thee.

Trumpet Sounds. Enter a Messenger.
Tim. What Trumpet's that?

Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and fome twenty Horse, All of Companionship.

Tim. Pray entertain them, give them guide to us; You must needs dine with me : Go not you hence Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done Shew me this piece. I am Joyful of your fights.

Enter Alcibiades with the relt. Most welcome Sir.

Apem. So, so, their Aches contract, and starve your fupple Joynts : That there should be smail Love amongst these


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