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TIMON OF ATHENS. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Timon, a noble Athenian.
Lucius,
LUCULLUS, Şlords, and flatterers of Timon.
SEMPRONIUS, )
VENTIDIUS, one of Timon's false friends.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian general.
APEMANTUS, a churlish philosopher.
FLAVIUS, steward to Timon.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
An old Athenian.
FLAMINIUS,
LUCILIUS, servants to Timon.
SERVILIUS,
Caphis,
PHILOTUS,

S servants to Timon's creditors.
LUCIUS,
HORTENSIUS,
And others, J
A Page. A Fool. Three Strangers.

Titus,

PHRYNIA, 3 mistresses to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA, SMIS

Cupid and Amazons in the mask.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Banditti, 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.

Poet. Good day, sir.
Pain.

I am glad you're 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; th' 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 continuate goodness :
He passes.

Jew. I have a jewel here-
Mer. 0, pray, let's see 't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Jew. If he will touch the estimate : but, for that,
Poet [reciting to himself). “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 ye.

Pain. 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 (1)
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?

Pain. A picture, sir.— 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 ?

I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Poet.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord is follow'd !
Poet. The senators of Athens :-happy man!()
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.
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?

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