LUCIUS,

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

TIMON, a noble Athenian.

LUCULLUS,

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.

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,

}

Mistresses 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.

Poet.

OOD 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; 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.

194

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. Jew. And rich.

[Looking at the Jewel. Here is a water, look ye.

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in cation

To the great lord.

Poet.

some work, some dedi

A thing slipp'd idly from me.

1

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd. The fire i' the flint
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.