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. 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. Good day, sir. Pain. 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. See, Ay, that's well known. But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches?1 Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant. Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord! Jew. Nay, that's most fixed. Mer. A most incomparable man; breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes. Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray, let's see't; for the lord Timon, sir? 1 The poet merely means to ask if any thing extraordinary or out of the common course of things has lately happened; and is prevented from waiting for an answer by observing so many conjured by Timon's bounty to attend. 2 Breathed is exercised, inured by constant practice. He passes, i. e. exceeds or goes beyond common bounds. Jew. If he will touch the estimate.1 But for that Poet. When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good. 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 ded ication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 3 From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i'the flint Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,5 sir. 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?7 what a mental power Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. 1 Touch the estimate, that is, come up to the price. 2 We must here suppose the poet busy in reciting part of his own work. 3 The old copies read :— "Our poesie is a gowne which uses.” 4 It is not certain whether this word is chafes or chases, in the folio. 5 i. e. as soon as my book has been presented to Timon. 6 This comes off well, apparently means this piece is well executed. 7 How the graceful attitude of this figure proclaims that it stands firm on its centre, or gives evidence in favor of its own fixture. Grace 18 introduced as bearing witness to propriety. 8 One might venture to supply words to such intelligible action. Poet. I'll say of it, It tutors nature; artificial strife1 Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Pain. How this lord's followed! Poet. The senators of Athens ;-happy men! Pain. Look, more! Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, Pain. How shall I understand you? You see how all conditions, how all minds, Of grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon. His large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, 6 Subdues and properties to his love and tendance Than to abhor himself; even he drops down 1 i. e. the contest of art with nature. 2 So in Measure for Measure we have, "This under generation;" and in King Richard III., the lower world. 3 My design does not stop at any particular character. 4 An allusion to the Roman practice of writing with a style, on tablets covered with wax; a custom which also prevailed in England until about the close of the fourteenth century. 5 i. e. open, explain. 6 i. e. subjects and appropriates. 7 One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron. Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o' the mount Is ranked with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labor on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states. Amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixed, One do I personate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Translates his rivals. Pain. "Tis conceived to scope.2 This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, Poet. Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which labored after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot. 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, 1 i. e. to improve their conditions. 2 i. e. extensively imagined. 3 i. e. in our art, in painting. Condition was used for profession, quality. 4 Whisperings of officious servility, the incense of the worshipping parasite to the patron as a god. 5 To "drink the free air through another," is to breathe freely at his will only. |