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Fne. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so:
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death;
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?

Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet;-You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you!-—And thou,
great-siz'd coward!

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy !-with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

[Exeunt Eneas and Trojans.

AS TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS.

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!

[Exit Troilus.

Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones! -O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set 'a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see :

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: And being once subdued in armed tail, Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

cloths.

As many as be here of pander's hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made:

It should be now, but that my fear is this,Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.

[Exit.

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SCENE I.-Athens. A hall in TIMON's house.

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and
Others, at several doors.

Poet. Good day, sir.
Pain. I am glad you are well.

Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the world?

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. VOL. II.

Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord!
Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd.

Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,

To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.

Jew. I have a jewel here.

Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir?

Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that

Poet. When we for recompence have prais'd the vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.

Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel.
Jew. And rich; here is a water, look you.

Q

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some | One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,

dedication

To the great lord.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes

From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your
book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece.

Pain. 'Tis a good piece.

Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent.

Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch: Is't good?

Poet. I'll say of it,

It tutors nature: artificial strife

Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and

pass over.

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I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea 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 shall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd
flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I saw them speak together.
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the

mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,

Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.

Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope.

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on:

All those, which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him
Drink the free air.

Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change

of mood,

Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of
fortune

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the Servant of VENTIDIUS talking with him. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?

Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait: Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut 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 must need me. I do know him
A gentleman, that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free
him.

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his

ransome;

And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:-
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!
[Exit.

Enter an Old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man be fore 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 house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift;
And my estate 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'the 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 pr'ythee, 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 honesty 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 passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim. To Lucilius. 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 choose
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

Tim. How shall she be endow'd,

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.

Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never

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He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are Even 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 you!

Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your hand;

We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jew. What, my lord? dispraise?

Tim. A mere satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
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 prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord, You mend the jewel by 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 will bear, 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;

When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou knowest, I do; I call thee by thy name.

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Of nothing so 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 likest thou this picture, Apemantus? Apem. The best, 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. You 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. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.

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

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: Take it for
thy labour.

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Ape-
mantus?

Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost 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 liest.

Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.

Apem. Art not a poet?
Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.' Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus? Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.Art not thou a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Tim. Right welcome, sir:
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt all but Apemantus.

Enter two Lords.

1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus?
Apem. Time to be honest.

1 Lord. That time serves still.
Apem. The most accursed thou, that still
omit'st it.

2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.
Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine
heat fools.

2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice.

2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Should'st have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

1 Lord. Hang thyself.

Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend.

2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.

ass.

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the
[Exit.
1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come,
shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of
gold,

Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,

Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the gods will But breeds the giver a return exceeding

not!

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Till I have thank'd you; and, when dinner's done,

Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company.
[They salute.

Most welcome, sir!
Apem. So, so; there!-

Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
That there should be small love 'mongst these
sweet knaves,

And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungrily on your sight.

All use of quittance.

1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries, That ever govern'd man.

2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall

we in?

1 Lord. I'll keep you company.

SCENE II.-The same.

[Exeunt.

A room of state in TIMON's house.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending: then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleas'd
the gods remember

My father's age, and call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose
help

I deriv'd liberty.

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