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Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of
Pain. How shall I understand you ?
I'll unbolt to you.
I saw them speak together.
Tis conceiv'd to scope.
* My design does not stop at any particular character. † Open, explain. One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron.
§ To advance their conditions of life,
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
Ay, marry, what of these?
Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well To show lord Timon, that mean eyes I have seen The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the
Servant of Ventidius talking with him.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait : Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Periods his comfort. Tim.
Noble Ventidius! Well;
* Whisperings of officious servility.
I i. e. Inferior spectators.
I am not of that feather, to shake off
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Enter an old Athenian.
Freely, good father.
thee. Tim. Attends he here, or no ?-Lucilius!
Well; what further ?
The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon :
Does she love him ?.
Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid ?
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband ? Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future,
all. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd 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 weigb with her. Old Ath.
Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my pro
mise. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship : Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you !
[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your
lordship! Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away.--What have you there, my friend?
Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Painting is welcome.
Even such as they give out*. I like your work ;
hear further from me. Pain.
The gods preserve you!
What, my lord ? dispraise?
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 wearing it. Tim.
Well mock'd. Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common
tongue, Which all men speak with him. Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid ?
He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus !
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good-morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou
know'st them not. A
pem. Are they not Athenians? Tim. Yes. Apem. Then I repent not. Jew. You know me, Apemantus. Apem. Thou knowest, I do; I call'd thee by thy
* Pictures have no bypocrisy ; they are what they profess to be. + To unclew a man, is to draw out the whole mass of his fortunes.