ACT I - Scene I Timon of Athens

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Athens. A hall in Timon’s house.

	Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors.
Poet	Good day, sir.
Painter	I am glad you’re well.
Poet	I have not seen you long: how goes the world?
Painter	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 conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Painter	I know them both; th’ other’s a jeweller.
Merchant	O, ’tis a worthy lord.
Jeweller	Nay, that’s most fix’d.
Merchant	A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness: He passes.
Jeweller	I have a jewel here⁠—
Merchant	O, pray, let’s see’t: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweller	If he will touch the estimate: but, for that⁠—
Poet	Reciting to himself. “When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.”
Merchant	’Tis a good form. Looking at the jewel.
Jeweller	And rich: here is a water, look ye.
Painter	You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.
Poet	A thing slipp’d idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence ’tis nourish’d: 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?
Painter	A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
Poet	Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.
Painter	’Tis a good piece.
Poet	So ’tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Painter	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.
Painter	It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; is’t good?
Poet	I will say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
	Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Painter	How this lord is follow’d!
Poet	The senators of Athens: happy man!
Painter	Look, more!
Poet	You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shaped 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.
Painter	How shall I understand you?
Poet	I will 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-faced 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.
Painter	I saw them speak together.
Poet	Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feign’d Fortune to be throned: 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, One do I personate of Lord Timon’s frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.
Painter	’Tis conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon’d from the rest below, Bowing his head against the sleepy 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 stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.
Painter	Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet	When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late beloved, 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.
Painter	’Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune’s 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 Lord Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger* from Ventidius talking with him; Lucilius and other Servants following.*
Timon	Imprison’d is he, say you?
Messenger	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, Periods his comfort.
Timon	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.
Messenger	Your lordship ever binds him.
Timon	Commend me to him: I will send his ransom; And being enfranchised, bid him come to me. ’Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well.
Messenger	All happiness to your honour! Exit.
	Enter an Old Athenian.
Old Athenian	Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Timon	Freely, good father.
Old Athenian	Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.
Timon	I have so: what of him?
Old Athenian	Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
Timon	Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!
Lucilius	Here, at your lordship’s service.
Old Athenian	This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclined to thrift; And my estate deserves an heir more raised Than one which holds a trencher.
Timon	Well; what further?
Old Athenian	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 prithee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.
Timon	The man is honest.
Old Athenian	Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself; It must not bear my daughter.
Timon	Does she love him?
Old Athenian	She is young and apt: Our own precedent passions do instruct us What levity’s in youth.
Timon	To Lucilius. Love you the maid?
Lucilius	Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Athenian	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.
Timon	How shall she be endow’d, If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Athenian	Three talents on the present; in future, all.
Timon	This gentleman of mine hath served 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 Athenian	Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Timon	My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.
Lucilius	Humbly I thank your lordship: never may The state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not owed to you! Exeunt Lucilius* and Old Athenian.*
Poet	Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Timon	I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
Painter	A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
Timon	Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, He is but outside: these pencill’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.
Painter	The gods preserve ye!
Timon	Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel Hath suffer’d under praise.
Jeweller	What, my lord! dispraise?
Timon	A more satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for’t as ’tis extoll’d, It would unclew me quite.
Jeweller	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 the wearing it.
Timon	Well mock’d.
Merchant	No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him.
Timon	Look, who comes here: will you be chid?
	Enter Apemantus.
Jeweller	We’ll bear, with your lordship.
Merchant	He’ll spare none.
Timon	Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apemantus	Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon’s dog, and these knaves honest.
Timon	Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know’st them not.
Apemantus	Are they not Athenians?
Timon	Yes.
Apemantus	Then I repent not.
Jeweller	You know me, Apemantus?
Apemantus	Thou know’st I do: I call’d thee by thy name.
Timon	Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apemantus	Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
Timon	Whither art going?
Apemantus	To knock out an honest Athenian’s brains.
Timon	That’s a deed thou’lt die for.
Apemantus	Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Timon	How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
Apemantus	The best, for the innocence.
Timon	Wrought he not well that painted it?
Apemantus	He wrought better that made the painter; and yet he’s but a filthy piece of work.
Painter	You’re a dog.
Apemantus	Thy mother’s of my generation: what’s she, if I be a dog?
Timon	Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
Apemantus	No; I eat not lords.
Timon	An thou shouldst, thou’ldst anger ladies.
Apemantus	O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
Timon	That’s a lascivious apprehension.
Apemantus	So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.
Timon	How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apemantus	Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Timon	What dost thou think ’tis worth?
Apemantus	Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!
Poet	How now, philosopher!
Apemantus	Thou liest.
Poet	Art not one?
Apemantus	Yes.
Poet	Then I lie not.
Apemantus	Art not a poet?
Poet	Yes.
Apemantus	Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.
Poet	That’s not feigned; he is so.
Apemantus	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!
Timon	What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
Apemantus	E’en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.
Timon	What, thyself?
Apemantus	Ay.
Timon	Wherefore?
Apemantus	That I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?
Merchant	Ay, Apemantus.
Apemantus	Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Merchant	If traffic do it, the gods do it.
Apemantus	Traffic’s thy god; and thy god confound thee!
	Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
Timon	What trumpet’s that?
Messenger	’Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, All of companionship.
Timon	Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us. Exeunt some Attendants. You must needs dine with me: go not you hence Till I have thank’d you: when dinner’s done, Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
	Enter Alcibiades, with the rest.
	Most welcome, sir!
Apemantus	So, so, there! Aches contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love ’mongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy! The strain of man’s bred out Into baboon and monkey.
Alcibiades	Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sight.
Timon	Right welcome, sir! Ere we depart, we’ll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. Exeunt all except Apemantus.
	Enter two Lords.
First Lord	What time o’ day is’t, Apemantus?
Apemantus	Time to be honest.
First Lord	That time serves still.
Apemantus	The more accursed thou, that still omitt’st it.
Second Lord	Thou art going to Lord Timon’s feast?
Apemantus	Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.
Second Lord	Fare thee well, fare thee well.
Apemantus	Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
Second Lord	Why, Apemantus?
Apemantus	Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.
First Lord	Hang thyself!
Apemantus	No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.
Second Lord	Away, unpeaceable dog, or I’ll spurn thee hence!
Apemantus	I will fly, like a dog, the heels o’ the ass. Exit.
First Lord	He’s opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, And taste Lord Timon’s bounty? he outgoes The very heart of kindness.
Second 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, But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.
First Lord	The noblest mind he carries That ever govern’d man.
Second Lord	Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
First Lord	I’ll keep you company. Exeunt.

ACT I - Scene I Timon of Athens

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