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Ay, marry, what of these?
Pain. 'Tis common :
of Ventidius talking with him. Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. Ay, any 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 to him, Periods his comfort. Tim.
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.
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransom; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.--Fare you well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Erit.
Enter an old ATHENIAN. Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Freely, yood father. Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have so: What of him? Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Tim. Attends he here, or nó?-Lucilius!
Enter LUCILIUS. Luc. Here, at your lorship's service. [creature,
Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift: And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher.
Well; what further?
The man is honest.
Does she love him?
Tim. (To Lucilius) Love you the maid ?
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, 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 promisc. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you! [Exeunt Luc. and old Ath.
Poet. Vouehsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Painting is welcome.
The gods preserve you!
What, my lord ? dispraise? Tim. A mere satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for't, as 'tis extollid, It would unclew me quite.
". 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 Which all men speak with him.
(tongue, Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be ebid?
He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st • Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon.
Tim.. Whither art going?
Apem. He wrought better, that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. You 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 dost thou think 'lis worth?
Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou bast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so.
thy labour: He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord !
Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.
Tim. Wbat, thyself?.
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.—Art not thou a merchant?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.
. "Tis Alcibiades, and Some twenty horse, all of companionship. Tim. 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; and, when dinner's done, Show me this piece.--I am joyful of your sights.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company. Most welcome, sir!
[They salute. Арет.
So, so; there! Achies contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet
knaves, And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey.
Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
O Right welcome, sir:
(Exeunt all but Apemantus.
Enter two Lords. 1 Lord. What time a-day is't, Apemantus?