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Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addreling himself courteculiy
to every suitor. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? [To a Mollenger. Mef. Ay, my good Lord; five talents in his debt, His means moft sort, his creditors molt straight : Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up, which failing to him Periods his comfort.
Tim. Noble Ventidius! well-
Mes. Your Lordship ever binds him.
j And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to ine; 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well. . Mej. All happiness to your honour !
Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature
Tim. Well: what further ?
Old Aih. One only daughter have I, ro kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o'th' youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost,
Tim. The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4)
Tim. Does the love him?
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Tim. Love you the maid?
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
Tim. How Thall she be endowed,
Old Ath. Three talents on the present, in future all.
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long ;
Old Ath. Most noble Lord,
Tim. My hand to thee, mine honour on my promise.
Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your Lordship! Tim. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon:
(4) Therefore he will be, Timon.] The thought is closely express’d, and obfcure: but this seems the meaning. " If the man be honest,
my Lord, for that reason he will be so in this; and not endeavour at the injustice of gaining my daughter without my consent.”
Go not away:
What have you there, my friend?
Tim. Painting is welcome.
I like your work;
Pain. The gods preserve ye!
Tim. Well fare you, gentleman; give me your hand,
Jew. What, my Lord! dispraise ?
Jew. My Lord, 'tis rated
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.
Jew. We'll bear it with your Lordship.
Apem. 'Till I be gentle, stay for thy good-morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honeft. ,
Tim. Why doft thou call them knaves, thou know'st
Apem. Thou know'st I do, I call’d thee by thy name.
this picture, Apemantus??
Apem. He wrought better, that made the painter: and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. Y’are a dog.
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation : what's she, if I be a dog?
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What doft thou think 'tis worth?
Apem. Then thou lieft: look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet. That's not feign’d, he is so.
Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o'th' Aatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a Lord! Tim. What would's do then, Apemantus?
Apem. Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with
Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. That I had so hungry a wit, to be a Lord.-(5) Art thou not a merchant?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Trumpets found. Enter a Messenger.
Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse All of companionship.
Tim. Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us ; You must needs dine with me: go not you hence, 'Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done, Shew me this piece. I'm joyful of your fights.
Enter Alcibiades with the rest. Most welcome, Sir!
[Bowing and embracing. Apem. So, fo! aches contract, and starve your supple joints! that there should be small love amongst there: sweet knaves, and all this courtesy! the strain of man's bred out into baboon and monkey.
Alc. You have fav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your fight.
Tim. Right welcome, Sir. E’re we do part, we'll Mare a bounteous time (6) In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt.
(5) That I had no angry wit to be a Lord,] This reading is abfuril, and unintelligible. But as I have restor'd the text, it is satirical enough of all conscience, and to the purpose: viz. I would hate myfelf, fors having no more wit than to covet fo insignificaat a title. In the fame sense Shakespeare uses lean-zvitted, in his Ritbard 2d.
And thou a lunatick, lean-witted, fool. Mr. Warton. (6) E're' we depart,---] Tho'the editions corcur in this reading, it is certainly faulty. Who d part? Tho' Alcibiades was to leave Tia mon, Timon was not to depart from his own lioule. Common sense favours my emendation.