Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every fuitor.

Tim. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? [To a Meflenger. Mef. Ay, my good Lord; five talents in his debt, His means moft fhort, his creditors most straight: Your honourable letter he defires

To thofe have fhut 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 most needs me. I do know him A gentleman that well deferves a help,

Which he fhall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him. Mef. Your Lordship ever binds him.

Tim. Commend me to him, I will fend his ranfom

;

And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,

But to fupport him after. Fare you well.
Mef. All happiness to your honour!

[Exit.

Enter an old Athenian.

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me fpeak.

Tim. Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou haft a fervant nam'd Lucilius.

Tim. I have fo: what of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Tim. Attends he here or no? Lucilius !

Enter Lucilius.

Luc. Here, at your Lordship's fervice.

Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature

By night frequents my houfe. I am a man

That from my firft have been inclin'd to thrift,
And my estate deferves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim. Well: what further?

Old 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,

F 3

And

And I have bred her at my dearest coft,
In qualities of the beft. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pray thee, noble Lord,
Join with me to forbid him her refort;
Myfelf have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honeft.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4) His honefty rewards him in itself,

It must not bear my daughter.

Tim. Does he love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

Our own precedent paffions do inftru&t us,
What levity's in youth.

Tim. Love you the maid ?

Luc. Ay, my good Lord, and fhe accepts of it. Old Ath. If in her marriage my confent be miffing,

I call the gods to witnefs, I will chufe

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And difpoffefs her all.

Tim. How fhall fhe be endowed,

If fhe be mated with an equal husband?

Old Ath. Three talents on the prefent, in future all. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath ferv'd me long ; To build his fortune I will ftrain a little,

For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoife,

And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath. Moft noble Lord,

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

Tim. My hand to thee, mine honour on my promife. Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That ftate, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you. [Exe. Luc. and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your Lordship! Tim. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon:

(4) Therefore be will be, Timon.] The thought is clofely exprefs'd, and obfcure: but this feems the meaning. "If the man be honest, my Lord, for that reafon he will be fo in this; and not endeavour "at the injuftice of gaining my daughter without my confent."

Mr. Warburton.

Go

4

Go not away.

What have you there, my friend? Pain. A piece of painting, which I do befeech Your Lordship to accept.

Tim. Painting is welcome.

The painting is almoft the natural man:

For fince difhonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but cut-fide: pencil'd figures are

Ev'n fuch as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
'Till you hear further from me.

Pain. The gods preferve ye!

Tim. Well fare you, gentleman; give me your hand, We must needs dine together: Sir, your jewel Hath fuffer'd under praife.

Jew. What, my Lord? difpraise?

Tim. A mere fatiety of commendations. If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, It would unclew me quite.

Jew. My Lord, 'tis rated

As thofe, which fell, would give: but you well know,
Things of like value, differing in the owners,

Are by their mafters priz'd; believe't, dear Lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Tim. Well mock'd.

Mer. No, my good Lord, he speaks the common tongue, Which all men fpeak with him.

Tim. Look, who comes here.

Will you be chid?

Enter Apemantus.

Few. We'll bear it with your Lordship.

Mer. He'll fpare none.

Tim. Good-morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! Apem. 'Till I be gentle, ftay for thy good-morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honeft.. Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves, thou know'st Apem. Are they not Athenians?

Tim. Yes.

[them not?

Apem.

Apem. Thou know'ft I do, I call'd thee by thy name. Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Of nothing fo much, as that I am not like Timon.
Tim. Whither art going?

Apem. To knock out an honeft Athenian's brains.
Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim. How lik'ft thou this picture, Apemantus?

Apcm. The beft, 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. Y'are a dog.

Apem. Thy mother's of my generation: what's fhe, if I be a dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?

Apem. No, I eat not Lords.

Tim. If thou should'st, thou'dft anger Ladies.
Apem. O, they eat Lords; fo they come by great bellies.
Tim. That's a lafcivious apprehenfion.

Apem. So, thou apprehend'ftit. Take it for thy labour.
Tim. How doft thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apem. Not fo well as plain-dealing, which will not

coft a man a doit.

Tim. What doft thou think 'tis worth?

Apem. Not worth my thinking-How now, poet? Poet. How now, philofopher?

Apem. Thou lieft.

Poet. Art thou not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.

Apem. Art not a poet?

Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou lieft: look in thy laft work, where thou haft feign'd him a worthy fellow.

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is fo.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o' th' flatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a Lord! Tim. What would't do then, Apemantus?

Apem.

Apem. Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had fo hungry a wit, to be a Lord.-(5) Art thou not a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Trafick 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! Trumpets found. Enter a Messenger.

Tim. What trumpet's that?

Mef. 'Tis Alcibiades, and fome twenty horfe 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'm joyful of your fights.

Enter Alcibiades with the rest.

Moft welcome, Sir!

[Boring and embracing. Apem. So, fo! aches contract, and ftarve your fupple joints! that there fhould be fmall love amongst thefe fweet knaves, and all this courtesy! the train of man's bred out into baboon and monkey.

Alc. You have fav'd my longing, and I feed Moft hungerly on your fight.

Tim. Right welcome, Sir..

E're we do part, we'll fhare a bounteous time (6)
In different pleafures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt.

(5) That I had no angry wit to be a Lord,] This reading is abfurd, and unintelligible. But as I have reftor'd the text, it is fatirical enough of all confcience, and to the purpose: viz. I would hate myself, for having no more wit than to covet fo infignificaat a title. In the fame fenfe Shakespeare ufes lean-witted, in his Ribard 28. And thou a lunatick, lean-witted, fool. (6) E're we depart,---] Tho' the editions concur it is certainly faulty. Who d part? Tho' Alcibiades mon, Timon was not to depart from his own houfe. favours my emendation.

F 5

Mr. Warburton. in this reading, was to leave TiCommon fenfe

Manet