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· Which he shall have, I'll pay the debt and free him. Mef

. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransom ; 'And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me ; 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well. Mes. All happiness to your honour ! (Exit.

Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord limon, hear nie speak.
Tim. Freely good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast 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 service. (creature

Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift,
my

estaie deserves 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 inaid 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; Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honest.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon.
His honefty rewards him in itself,
It must not bear my daughter.

Tim. Does she love him?

Old Ath. She is young and apt:
Our own precedent paflions do instruct us,

What

And

What levity's in youth.
Tim. Love

you

the maid ? Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
I call the Gods to witness, I will chufe
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

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

Old Ath. Three talents on the present, in future all.

Tim. This gentleman of mine hath 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.

Old Ath. Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. [mise.

Tim. My hand to thine, mine honour on my pro

Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That state, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not own'd to you.

[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. 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 beleech
Your lordship, to accept.

Tim. Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man:
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside ; pencil'd figures are
Ev’n such 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 preserve ye!

[hand, Lim. Well fare you, gentleman; give me your We must needs dine together: Sir, your jewel

Jew.

Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jew. What, my lord ? dispraise ?

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

Jew. My lord, 'tis rated
As those, which sell, 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.

1

S CE N E III.

Enter Apemantus. : Will you be chid ?

Jew. We'll bear it with your lordship.
Mer. He'll spare none.
Tim. * Good-morrow to thee gentle Apemantus!
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow.
Apem. When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves

honest. Tim. Why doft thou call them knaves, thou know'ft them not.

* Tim. Good morrow to thee gentle:Apemantus ?
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow ;

When thou art Timon's dog and these knaves honejt.] The first Line of Apemantus's Answer is to the Purpose; the fecond absurd

and nonsensical; which proceeds from the Loss of a Speech dropt from between them, that should be thus restored,

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apem. 'Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow.

[Poet. When will that be ? )
Apem. When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. Warb.
„Vol. VII.

G

Apem

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

nanie.

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 honest 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’st thou this Picture, Apemantus ?
Apem. The best, for the innocence.
T'im. 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.

Paint. Y'are a dog.

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

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Apem. No, I eat not lords.
Tim. If thou should'st, thou'dít anger ladies.

Apeni. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apen. So thou apprehend'it it. Take it for thy Jabour.

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus ?

Apem. Not so well as Plain-dealing, which will not coft 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 thou not one ?

1

Apem. Yes.

Poet.

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

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

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

Apem. Yes, he is worthy o' 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'st do then, Apemantus ?

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.
Art thou not a Merchant ? .
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the Gods will not!
Mer. If traffic do it, the Gods do it.

[thee! Apen. Traffic's thy God, and thy God confound

Trumpets found. Enter a Messenger.
Tim. What trumpet's that ?
Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse
All of companionship.

Tim. Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us,
You mụst 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 sights.

Enter Alcibiades with the rest. Most welcome, Sir!

[Bowing and embracing. Apem. So, so! Aches contrad, and starve, your supple joints !, that there should be small love amongst

* That I had no angry wit to be a lord.] This reading is absurd, and unintelligible. But, as I have restor'd the Text, it is satirical fough of Conscience, viz. I would hate myself, for having no ‘ore wit than to covet fo insignificant a Title.

these

m

Warburton.

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