Imatges de pÓgina
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

TIMON OF ATHENS.

PUBLIC

VOL. VIII.

B

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Timon, a noble Athenian.

Lucius,

Lucullus,

lords, and flatterers of Timon.

Sempronius,

Ventidius, one of Timon's false friends.

Apemantus, a churlish philosopher.

Alcibiades, an Athenian general.

Flavius, steward to Timon.

Flaminius,

[blocks in formation]

Hortensius,.

Two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of Isidore; two of Timon's creditors.

Cupid and Maskers. Three Strangers. • Poet, Painter, Jeweller and Merchant. An old Athenian. A Page, A Fool.

Phrynia,

Timandra,}

mistres
stresses to Alcibiades.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and

Attendants.

SCENE, Athens; and the Woods adjoining.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.

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

GOOD day, sir.

Pain.

Poet.

I am glad you are well.

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

world?

Pain. It wears sir, as it grows.

Ay, that's well known:

Poet.
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magick 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.
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 continuate2 goodness:

He passes.3

Jew. I have a jewel here.

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

■ Inured by constant practice.

2 For continual.

3 i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds.

Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that→→ Poet. When we for recompense 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.

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some de

dication

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,4 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,

* As soon as my book has been presented to Timon.

« AnteriorContinua »