Act I · Scene I
Athens. A hall in Timon's house.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors
Poet
Good day, sir.
Painter
I am glad you're well.
Poet
I have not seen you long: how goes the world?
Painter
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 powerHath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Painter
I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.
Merchant
O, 'tis a worthy lord.
Jeweller
Nay, that's most fix'd.
Merchant
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,To an untirable and continuate goodness:He passes.Jeweller: I have a jewel here--
Merchant
O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?Jeweller: If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--
Poet
[Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense havepraised the vile,It stains the glory in that happy verseWhich aptly sings the good.'
Merchant
'Tis a good form.
Looking at the jewel
Jeweller
And rich: here is a water, look ye.
Painter
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedicationTo the great lord.
Poet
A thing slipp'd idly from me.Our poesy is as a gum, which oozesFrom whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flintShows not till it be struck; our gentle flameProvokes itself and like the current fliesEach bound it chafes. What have you there?
Painter
A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
Poet
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.Let's see your piece.
Painter
'Tis a good piece.
Poet
So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Painter
Indifferent.
Poet
Admirable: how this graceSpeaks his own standing! what a mental powerThis eye shoots forth! how big imaginationMoves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gestureOne might interpret.
Painter
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 strifeLives in these touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over
Painter
How this lord is follow'd!
Poet
The senators of Athens: happy man!
Painter
Look, more!
Poet
You see this confluence, this great floodof visitors.I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hugWith amplest entertainment: my free driftHalts not particularly, but moves itselfIn a wide sea of wax: no levell'd maliceInfects one comma in the course I hold;But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,Leaving no tract behind.
Painter
How shall I understand you?
Poet
I will unbolt to you.You see how all conditions, how all minds,As well of glib and slippery creatures asOf grave and austere quality, tender downTheir services to Lord Timon: his large fortuneUpon his good and gracious nature hangingSubdues and properties to his love and tendanceAll sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flattererTo Apemantus, that few things loves betterThan to abhor himself: even he drops downThe knee before him, and returns in peaceMost rich in Timon's nod.
Painter
I saw them speak together.
Poet
Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hillFeign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mountIs rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,That labour on the bosom of this sphereTo propagate their states: amongst them all,Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;Whose present grace to present slaves and servantsTranslates his rivals.
Painter
'Tis conceived to scope.This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,With one man beckon'd from the rest below,Bowing his head against the sleepy mountTo climb his happiness, would be well express'dIn our condition.
Poet
Nay, sir, but hear me on.All those which were his fellows but of late,Some better than his value, on the momentFollow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,Make sacred even his stirrup, and through himDrink the free air.
Painter
Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet
When Fortune in her shift and change of moodSpurns down her late beloved, all his dependantsWhich labour'd after him to the mountain's topEven on their knees and hands, let him slip down,Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Painter
'Tis common:A thousand moral paintings I can showThat shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune'sMore pregnantly than words. Yet you do wellTo show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seenThe foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following
TIMON
Imprison'd is he, say you?
Messenger
Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,His means most short, his creditors most strait:Your honourable letter he desiresTo those have shut him up; which failing,Periods his comfort.
TIMON
Noble Ventidius! Well;I am not of that feather to shake offMy friend when he must need me. I do know himA gentleman that well deserves a help:Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt,and free him.
Messenger
Your lordship ever binds him.
TIMON
Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;And being enfranchised, bid him come to me.'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,But to support him after. Fare you well.
Messenger
All happiness to your honour!
Exit
Enter an old Athenian
Old Athenian
Lord Timon, hear me speak.
TIMON
Freely, good father.
Old Athenian
Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.
TIMON
I have so: what of him?
Old Athenian
Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
TIMON
Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!
LUCILIUS
Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Athenian
This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,By night frequents my house. I am a manThat from my first have been inclined to thrift;And my estate deserves an heir more raisedThan one which holds a trencher.
TIMON
Well; what further?
Old Athenian
One only daughter have I, no kin else,On whom I may confer what I have got:The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,And I have bred her at my dearest costIn qualities of the best. This man of thineAttempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,Join with me to forbid him her resort;Myself have spoke in vain.
TIMON
The man is honest.
Old Athenian
Therefore he will be, Timon:His honesty rewards him in itself;It must not bear my daughter.
TIMON
Does she love him?
Old Athenian
She is young and apt:Our own precedent passions do instruct usWhat levity's in youth.
TIMON
[To LUCILIUS] Love you the maid?
LUCILIUS
Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Athenian
If in her marriage my consent be missing,I call the gods to witness, I will chooseMine heir from forth the beggars of the world,And dispossess her all.
TIMON
How shall she be endow'd,if she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Athenian
Three talents on the present; in future, all.
TIMON
This gentleman of mine hath served 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 weigh with her.
Old Athenian
Most noble lord,Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
TIMON
My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.
LUCILIUS
Humbly I thank your lordship: never mayThe state or fortune fall into my keeping,Which is not owed to you!
Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian
Poet
Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
TIMON
I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
Painter
A piece of painting, which I do beseechYour lordship to accept.
TIMON
Painting is welcome.The painting is almost the natural man;or since dishonour traffics with man's nature,He is but outside: these pencill'd figures areEven such as they give out. I like your work;And you shall find I like it: wait attendanceTill you hear further from me.
Painter
The gods preserve ye!
TIMON
Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewelHath suffer'd under praise.
Jeweller
What, my lord! dispraise?
TIMON
A more satiety of commendations.If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,It would unclew me quite.
Jeweller
My lord, 'tis ratedAs those which sell would give: but you well know,Things of like value differing in the ownersAre prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
TIMON
Well mock'd.
Merchant
No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,Which all men speak with him.
TIMON
Look, who comes here: will you be chid?
Enter APEMANTUS
TIMON
Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship.
Merchant
He'll spare none.
TIMON
Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
APEMANTUS
Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
TIMON
Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.
APEMANTUS
Are they not Athenians?
TIMON
Yes.
APEMANTUS
Then I repent not.Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name.
TIMON
Thou art proud, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS
Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
TIMON
Whither art going?
APEMANTUS
To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
TIMON
That's a deed thou'lt die for.
APEMANTUS
Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
TIMON
How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
The best, for the innocence.
TIMON
Wrought he not well that painted it?
APEMANTUS
He wrought better that made the painter; and yethe's but a filthy piece of work.
Painter
You're a dog.
APEMANTUS
Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?
TIMON
Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
No; I eat not lords.
TIMON
An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies.
APEMANTUS
O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
TIMON
That's a lascivious apprehension.
APEMANTUS
So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.
TIMON
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost aman a doit.
TIMON
What dost thou think 'tis worth?
APEMANTUS
Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!
Poet
How now, philosopher!
APEMANTUS
Thou liest.
Poet
Art not one?
APEMANTUS
Yes.
Poet
Then I lie not.
APEMANTUS
Art not a poet?
Poet
Yes.
APEMANTUS
Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thouhast feigned him a worthy fellow.
Poet
That's not feigned; he is so.
APEMANTUS
Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thylabour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!
TIMON
What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.
TIMON
What, thyself?
APEMANTUS
Ay.
TIMON
Wherefore?
APEMANTUS
That I had no angry wit to be a lord.Art not thou a merchant?
Merchant
Ay, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS
Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Merchant
If traffic do it, the gods do it.
APEMANTUS
Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger
TIMON
What trumpet's that?
Messenger
'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,All of companionship.
TIMON
Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.
Exeunt some Attendants
TIMON
You must needs dine with me: go not you henceTill I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest
TIMON
Most welcome, sir!
APEMANTUS
So, so, there!Aches contract and starve your supple joints!That there should be small love 'mongst thesesweet knaves,And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred outInto baboon and monkey.
ALCIBIADES
Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feedMost hungerly on your sight.
TIMON
Right welcome, sir!Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous timeIn different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
Exeunt all except APEMANTUS
Enter two Lords
First Lord
What time o' day is't, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
Time to be honest.
First Lord
That time serves still.
APEMANTUS
The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.
Second Lord
Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?
APEMANTUS
Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.
Second Lord
Fare thee well, fare thee well.
APEMANTUS
Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
Second Lord
Why, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS
Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean togive thee none.
First Lord
Hang thyself!
APEMANTUS
No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thyrequests to thy friend.
Second Lord
Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!
APEMANTUS
I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass.
Exit
First Lord
He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoesThe very heart of kindness.
Second Lord
He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,Is but his steward: no meed, but he repaysSevenfold above itself; no gift to him,But breeds the giver a return exceedingAll use of quittance.
First Lord
The noblest mind he carriesThat ever govern'd man.
Second Lord
Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
First Lord
I'll keep you company.
Exeunt