Timon of Athens - Act 1 - Scene 1

SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house.

    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 power
    Hath 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 have
    praised the vile,
    It stains the glory in that happy verse
    Which 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 dedication
    To the great lord.

Poet

    A thing slipp'd idly from me.
    Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
    From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
    Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
    Provokes itself and like the current flies
    Each 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 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.

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 strife
    Lives 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 flood
    of visitors.
    I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
    Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
    With amplest entertainment: my free drift
    Halts not particularly, but moves itself
    In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
    Infects 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 as
    Of grave and austere quality, tender down
    Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
    Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
    Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
    All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
    To Apemantus, that few things loves better
    Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
    The knee before him, and returns in peace
    Most rich in Timon's nod.

Painter

    I saw them speak together.

Poet

    Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
    Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount
    Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
    That labour on the bosom of this sphere
    To 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 servants
    Translates 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 mount
    To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
    In 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 moment
    Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
    Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
    Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
    Drink the free air.

Painter

    Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet

    When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
    Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
    Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
    Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
    Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Painter

    'Tis common:
    A thousand moral paintings I can show
    That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
    More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
    To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
    The 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 desires
    To those have shut him up; which failing,
    Periods his comfort.

TIMON

    Noble Ventidius! Well;
    I am not of that feather to shake off
    My friend when he must need me. I do know him
    A 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 man
    That from my first have been inclined to thrift;
    And my estate deserves an heir more raised
    Than 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 cost
    In qualities of the best. This man of thine
    Attempts 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 us
    What 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 choose
    Mine 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 may
    The 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 beseech
    Your 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 are
    Even such as they give out. I like your work;
    And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
    Till 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 jewel
    Hath 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 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 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
    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 yet
    he'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 a
    man 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 thou
    hast 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 thy
    labour: 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
    You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
    Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,
    Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

    Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest
    Most welcome, sir!

APEMANTUS

    So, so, there!
    Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
    That there should be small love 'mongst these
    sweet knaves,
    And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
    Into baboon and monkey.

ALCIBIADES

    Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
    Most hungerly on your sight.

TIMON

    Right welcome, sir!
    Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
    In 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 to
    give thee none.

First Lord

    Hang thyself!

APEMANTUS

    No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy
    requests 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 outgoes
    The very heart of kindness.

Second Lord

    He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
    Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
    Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
    But breeds the giver a return exceeding
    All use of quittance.

First Lord

    The noblest mind he carries
    That ever govern'd man.

Second Lord

    Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

First Lord

    I'll keep you company.

    Exeunt

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