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Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How shall I understand you?
I'll unbolt to you.
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down.
I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the
My design does not stop at any particular character. 7 One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron.
8 To advance their conditions of life. VOL. VIII.
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix’d,
'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
Nay, sir, but hear me on:
Ay, marry, what of these?
mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, 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.
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 have seen The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the
Servant of Ventidius talking with him. Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord : five talents is his
debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait :
Your honourable letter he desires
Noble Ventidius! Well;
him. Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran
some; And, being enfranchis’d, bid him come to me: 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. - Fare
well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Freely, good father.
fore thee. Tim. Attends he here, or no ? Lucilius!
Well; what further? Old Ath. 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,
The man is honest.
Does she love him? Old Ath. She is
Tim. [TO LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid ?
How shall she be endow'd,
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 weigh 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
promise. 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.
Go not away
Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your
lordship! Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
What have you there, my friend ?
Painting is welcome.
shall find, I like it : wait attendance,
The gods preserve you. Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen : Give me your We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise. Jew.
What, my lord ? dispraise ? Tim. A meer satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll’d, It would unclew me quite. Jew.
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; 9 Ruin,