DRAMATIS PERSONE. TIMON, a noble Athenian. LUCILLUS, two flattering Lords. APEMANTUS, a churlish Philofopher. FLAMINIUS, LUCILIUS, SERVILIUS, CAPHIS, VARRO, PHILOTAS, TITUS, feveral Servants to Ufurers. LUCIUS, HORTENSIUS, ISIODORE, Thieves, Senators, Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Mercer and Merchant; with divers Servants and Attendants. SCENE ATHENS, and the Woods not far from it. The bint of part of this play taken from Lucian's TIMON TIMON of ATHENS. ACT I. SCENE I. A Hall in Timon's House. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer, Poet. at feveral doors. OOD day, Sir. G Pain. I am glad ye are well. the world? Pain. It wears, Sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known. Pain. I know them both; the other's a jeweller. Jew. Nay, that's most fixt. Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were To an untirable and continuate goodness. Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O pray let's fee't. For the Lord Timon, Sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but for thatPoet. When we for recompence have prais'd the vile, [Repeating to bimself. It ftains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings 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 dedication To the great Lord. Poet. A thing flipt idly from me. Our poefie is as a gum, which issues Pain. A picture, Sir: -and when comes your book forth? Let's see your piece. Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis, This comes off well and excellent. Poet. Admirable! how this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life: Here is a touch - is't good? It tutors nature, artificial ftrife Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Enter certain Senators. Pain. How this Lord is followed!. Poet. The fenators of Athens! happy man! Pain. Look, more! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visiters. I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man In a wide fea of wax*: no levell'd malice * Anciently they wrote upon waxen tables with an iron ftyle. Infects Infects one comma in the course I hold; Pain. How shall I understand you ? You fee how all conditions, how all minds, Pain. I faw them speak together. Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to th' scope: Poet. Nay, but hear me on: Pain. Ay, marry, what of these ? Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can shew, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune SCENE II. Trumpets found. Enter Timon addressing bimfelf cour teously to every Suitor. Tim. Imprison'd is he, fay you? [To a Meffenger. Mef. Ay, my good Lord, five talents is his debt, His means most short, his creditors most straight: To those have shut him up, which failing to him Tim. Noble Ventidius! well I am not of that feather, to shake off Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransom, And being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me, Mes. All happiness to your Honour. Enter an old Athenian. 0. Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. [Exit. Tim. Freely, good father. 0. Ath. Thou haft a servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have so: what of him ? 0. Ath. Moft noble Timon, call the man before thee. Tim. Attends he here or no? Luçilius! |