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TIMON OF ATHENS.

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PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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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.
FLAMINUS,
Lucilius,

Timon's Servants.
SERVILIUS,
Caphis,
PHILOTUS,
Titus,

Servants to Timon's Creditors.
Lucius,

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

and Attendants.

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} Mistresses to Alcibiades.

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.
OOD 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; the other's a jeweller.
Mer. Oh, '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. Oh ! pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir? 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 ye. Puin. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedi

cation 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 fint
Shews 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 ?
Poet.

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

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord is follow'd !
Poet. The senators of Athens.—Happy men !
Pain. Look, more!
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of

visitors.

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