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 demonftate these quick blows of fortune
More pregnantly than words; yet you do well
To fhew Lord Timon, that mean eyes have feen
The foot above the head.

S CENE II.

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 moft fhort, his creditors most straight. Your honourable letter he defires

To thofe have fhut him up, which failing periods
His comfort.

Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well

I am not of that feather to fhake off

I do know him

My friend when he most needs me.
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 enfranchis'd, bid him come to me.

'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,

'Tis not enough, &c.] This thought is better expreffed by Dr. Madden in his elegy on Arch

bifhop Boulter.

He thought it mean
Only to help the poor to beg again.

But

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

Enter Lucilius.

Luc. Here, at your Lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy

creature

By night frequents my houfe. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin❜d to thrift,
And my eftate 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 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 refort; Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honeft.

His honefty rewards him in itself,

It must not bear my daughter.
Tim. Does the love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt.

Our own precedent paffions do inftruct ús,
What levity's in youth.

Tim. [To Lucil.] 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 the be mated with an equal hufband?

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 train a little,

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

And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath. Moft noble Lord,

Pawn me to this your honour, fhe is his.

8

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 Lucil. and old Ath.

Poet. Vouchfafe my labour, and long live your Lordship!

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

9

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

Pain. The Gods preferve you!

Tim. Well fare ye, gentlemen.

hand,

Give me your

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 fhould pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.

I

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. Believ't, dear Lord, You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Tim. Well mock'd.

Mer. No, my good Lord, he fpeaks the common tongue,

Which all men fpeak with him.

Tim. Look, who comes here.

you be chid?

III.

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 Timon's dog, and these knaves honest-
Tim. Why doft thou call them knaves, thou know'ft

them not?

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

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?

3 Enter Apemantus.] See this character of a Cynic finely drawn by Lucian, in his Auction of the Philofophers; and how well ShakeSpeare has copied it.

4 Tim. Good morrow to thee,
gentle Apemantus !
Apem. Till I be gentle, ftay for
thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog,

and thefe knaves boneft] The first line of Apemantus's answer is to the purpofe; the fecond abfurd and nonfenfical; which proVOL. VI.

ceeds from the lofs of a speech
dropt from between them, that
should be thus restored,

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gen-
the Apemantus!
Apem. Till I be gentle, flay
for thy good morrow.
[Poet. When will that be?]
Apem. When thou art Timon's
dog, and thefe knaves honeft.
WARBURTON.
I think my punctuation may
clear the paffage without any
greater effort.
N

Apem.

1