Join with me to forbid him her resort;

Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim.

The man is honest.

Old Ath. "Therefore he will be, Timon:

His honesty rewards him in itself,

It must not bear my daughter.

Tim.

Does she love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim. [to Lucilius.] Love you the maid?

Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

Old Ath. 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.

Tim.

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 promise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may

VOL. X.

That state or fortune fall into my keeping,

Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian.

Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your

lordship!

Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:

Go not away. What have you there, my

friend? Pain. A piece of painting; which I do beseech

Your lordship to accept.

Tim.

Painting is welcome.

The painting is almost the natural man;

For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are

Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
hear further from me.

Till you

Pain.

The gods preserve you!

Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen: Give me your

hand;

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 12.

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?

13 Enter APEMANTUS.

Jew. We will bear, with your lordship.

Mer.
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 them not.

Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Yes.

Apem. Then I repent not.

Jew. You know me, Apemantus.

Apem. Thou know'st, I do; I call'd thee by thy

name.

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon.

Tim. Whither art going?

Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apeniantus?

Apem. The best, for the innocence,

8

Tim. Wrought he not well, that painted it?

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. No; I eat not lords.

Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies. Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: Take it for thy labour.

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Apem. Not worth my thinking.-How now, poet? Poet. How now, philosopher?

Apem. Thou liest.

Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.

Apem. Art not a poet?

Poet. Yes.

Apem. Then thou liest: 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 flatter'd, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus?

Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord 14.Art not thou a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the gods will not! Mer. If traffick do it, the gods do it.

Apem. Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound

thee!

Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.

Tim. What trumpet's that?

Serv.

'Tis Alcibiades, and

Some twenty horse, all of companionship.

us.

Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to [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!

Apem.

[They salute.

So, so; there!—