Ventidius, one of Timon's false friends. Apemantus, a churlish philosopher. Alcibiades, an Athenian general. Flavius, steward to Timon. Two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of Isidore; two of Timon's creditors. Cupid, and Maskers. Three Strangers. 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. 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. Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd*, as it were, Inured by constant practice. To an untirable and continuate goodness: He passes t. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for thatPoet. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse 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 dedi cation 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 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? *For continual. ti. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. As soon as my book has been presented to Timon. Poet. I'll 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's follow'd!' Poet. The senators of Athens:-Happy men! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. To Apemantus, that few things loves better Pain. I saw them speak together. i. e. The contest of art with nature. My design does not stop at any particular cha racter. tron. Open, explain. One who shows by reflection the looks of his pa |