Imatges de pàgina
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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.

O. Ath. Most noble Lord,

Pawn me to this your Honour, he is his,

Tim. My Hand to thee,

Mine Honour on my Promife.

Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship never may
That State or Fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you.

Poet. Vouchlafe 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 almoft the natural Man:

For fince Difhonour trafficks with Man's Nature,
He is but out-fide: The Penfil'd Figures are
Even 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 ye,

[Exit,

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman; Give me your Hand, We must needs dine together: Sir, your Jewel Hath fuffered under Praife.

Jew. What my Lord? difpraife?

Tem. 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 priz'd fo by their Matters. Believ't, dear Lord,

You med the Jewel by the wearing it.

Tim. Well mock'd.

Enter Apemantus.

Mer. No, my good Lord, he fpeaks the common Tongue, Which all Men fpeak with him.

Tim. Look who comes here, will you be chid?
Jew. We'll bear with your Lordship.

Mer. He'll fpare none.

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.

Apem. 'Till I be gentle, ftay thou for thy good morrow When thou art Timon's Dog, and thefe Knaves honeft. 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 Athenians 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?

Apem. 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. And thou fhould'st, thoud'st anger Ladies.

Apem. O, they eat Lords,

So they come by great Bellies.

Tim. That's a lafcivious apprehenfion.

Apem. So thou apprehend'st it.

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.

Apem. Not worth my thinking.
How now, Poet?

Poet. How now, Philofopher?
Apem. Thou lieft.

Poet. Art 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. Heavens, that I were a Lord!

Tim. What would't do then, Apemantus?

Apem. E'vn as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my Heart.

Tim. Wha", thy felf?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord. Art not thou a Merchant ?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Traffick 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.
Trumpet Sounds. Enter a Meffenger.

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 am Joyful of your fights. Enter Alcibiades with the rest.

Moft welcome Sir.

Apem. So, fo, their Aches contract, and farve your fupple Joynts: That there should be fmail Love amongst these

fweet

fweet Knaves, and all this Courtefie. The ftrain of Man's bred out into Baboon and Monkey.

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

Tim. Right welcome, Sir.

E'er we depart, we'il fhare a bounteous time.

In different Pleafures. Pray you let us in.

[Exeunt.

Manet Apemantus. Enter Lucius and Lucullus.
Luc. What time a day is't, Apemantus ?
Apem. Time to be honeft.

Luc. That time ferves ftill.

Apem. The moft accurfed thou that ftill omit'ft it.
Lucull. Thou art going to Lord Timon's Feaft.

Apem. Ay, to fee Meat fill Knaves, and Wine heat Fools.

Lucull. Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apem. Thou art a Fool to bid me farewel twice.
Lucull. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Thou should'ft have kept one to thy felf, for I mean to give thee none.

Luc. Hang thy felf.

Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: Make thy Requests to thy Friend.

Lucull. Away unpeaceable Dog,

Or I'll purn thee hence.

Apem. I will fly, like a Dog, the heels o'th' Afs.
Luc. He's oppofite to humanity.

Come, fhall we in,

And tafte Lord Timen's Bounty? He outgoes
The very Heart of Kindness.

Lucull. He pours it out; Plutus, the God of Gold,
Is but his Steward: No meed but he repays
Seven-fold above it felf; no Gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return, exceedir.g

All use of Quittance.

Lac. The noblest mind he carries,

That ever govern'd Man.

Luc. I'll keep you Company.

Lucull. Long may he live in Fortunes: Shall we in?

[Exeunt.

Hautboys

Hautboys Playing, Loud Mufick. A great Banquet ferv'd in; and then enter Lord Timon, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius and other Athenian Senators, with Ventidius. Then comes dropping after all, Apemantus difcontendedly like himself.

Ven. Moft honoured Timon,
It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember
And call him to long Peace :

my

He is gone happy, and has left me rich.
Then as in grateful Virtue I am bound

Father's age,

To your free Heart, I do return thofe Talents,
Doubled with Thanks and Service, from whole help
I deriv'd Liberty..

Tim. O by no means,

Honeft Ventidius: You mistake my Love,
I gave it freely ever, and there's none

Can truly fay he gives, if he receives :

If our Betters play at that Game, we must not dare
To imitate them. Faults that are rich are fair.

Ven. A Noble Spirit.

Tim. Nay, my Lords, Ceremony was but devis'd at firft To fet a Glofs on faint Deeds, hollow welcomes,

Recanting goodness, forry e'er 'tis fhown:

But where there is true Friendship there needs none.
Pray, fit, more welcome are ye to my Fortunes,

Then my Fortunes to me.

Luc. My Lord, we always have confeft it.

[They fit down.

Apem. Ho, ho, confeft it? Hang'd it? Have you not? Tim. O Apemantus, you are welcome.

Apem. No: You fhall not make me welcome.

I come to have thee thruft me out of Doors.

Tim. Fye, th'art a Churle; ye have got a humour there Does not become a Man, 'tis much to blame:

They fay, my Lords, Ira furor brevis eft,

But yond Man is ever Angry.

Go, let him have a Table by him felf:
For he does neither affect Company,
Nor is he fit for't indeed.

Apem. Let me ftay at thine apperil, Timon:
I come to obferve, I give thee warning on't.

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