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Enter certain Senators.

Pain. How this lord is followed!

Poet. The Senators of Athens! happy man! (2)
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You fee this confluence, this great flood of vifiters.
I have, in this rough Work, fhap'd out a Man,
Whom this beneath-world doth embrace and hug
With ampleft entertainment. My free drift
Halts not particular, but moves itself
In a wide fea of wax; no levell'd malice
Infects one Comma in the course I hold,
But flies an eagle-flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pain. How fhall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt to you.

You fee, how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and flipp'ry creatures, as
Of grave and auftere quality, tender down
Their Service to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All forts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself; ev'n he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Moft rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I faw them speak together.

Poet. I have upon a high and pleafant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The Bafe o'th' mount
Is rank'd with all deferts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bofom of this sphere
Το propagate their states; amongst them all,
Whofe eyes are on this fov'reign lady fixt,

(2) Happy Men!] Thus the printed Copies: but I cannot think the Poet meant, that the Senators were happy in being admitted to Timon; their Quality might command That: but that Timon was happy in being follow'd, and carefs'd, by those of their Rank and Dignity.

One

One do I perfonate of Timon's frame,

Whom Fortune with her iv'ry hand wafts to her,
Whose present grace to present slaves and fervants
Tranflates his rivals.

Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to th' Scope. (3)

This throne, this Fortune, and this Hill, methinks,
With one man becken'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount

To climb his happinefs, would be well expreft
In our condition.

Poet. Nay, but hear me on:

All those which were his fellows but of late,
Some better than his value, on the moment
Follow his ftrides; his lobbies fill with tendance;
Rain facrificial whifp'rings in his ear;

Make facred even his ftirrop; and through him

Drink the free air.

Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune in her fhift and change of mood Spurns down her late belov'd, all his Dependants (Which labour'd after 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 fhew,

That shall demonftrate thefe 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.

(3) 'Tis conceiv'd, to feope

This Throne, this Fortune, &c.] Thus all the Editors hitherto have nonfenfically writ, and pointed, this Paffage. But, fure, the Painter would tell the Poet, your Conception, Sir, hits the very Scope you aim at. This the Greeks would have render'd, onorî ruxes, rectà ad Scopum tendis: and Cicero has thus exprefs'd on the like Occafion, Signum oculis deftinatum feris.

Trumpets

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

Tim. Imprifon'd is he, fay you? [To a Messenger
Mef. Ay, my good lord; five talents is his debt,
His means most short, 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 shall have, I'll pay the debt, and free him.
Mef. Your lordfhip ever binds him.

Tim. Commend me to him, I will fend his ransom;

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!

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?

[Exit

Old Ath. Moft noble Timen, 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

eftate 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,

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;
My felf have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honeft.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4)
His honefty rewards him in it self,
It must not bear my daughter.

Tim. Does the love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent paffions do inftruct 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 consent 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 present, in future all. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath ferv'd me long ; To build his fortune I will train a little,

For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you beftow, in him I'll counterpoise,
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 promise. Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That ftate, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you! [Exeunt Luc. and old Ath. Poet. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

(4) Therefore be will be, Timon.] The Thought is closely exprefs'd, and obfcure: but this feems the Meaning. "If the "Man be honeft, my Lord, for that reafon he will be fo in "this; and not endeavour at the Injustice of gaining my "Daughter without my Confent." Mr. Warburton.

Go not away.

Tim. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon: 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 almost the natural man :
For fince dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but out-fide: pencil'd figures are

Ev'n fuch as they give out. I like your Work;
fhall find, I like it: wait attendance

And you

'Till 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 fuffer'd under praise.

Jew. What, my lord? difpraife?

Tim. A meer 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 masters 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 speak with him.

Tim. Look, who comes here.

Will you be chid ?

Enter Apemantus.

Jew. 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 Timan's dog, and these knaves honest.
Tim. Why doft thou call them knaves, thou know'ft
thém not?

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem.

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