SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house. Timon of Athens  Shakespeare homepage  |  Timon of Athens  | Act 1, Scene 1 

 Next scene  SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house. 

 Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors  Poet  Good day, sir. 

 Painter  I am glad you're well. 

 Poet  I have not seen you long: how goes the world? 

 Painter  It wears, sir, as it grows. 

 Poet  Ay, that's well known: 

 But what particular rarity? what strange, 

 Which manifold record not matches? See, 

 Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power 

 Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant. 

 Painter  I know them both; th' other's a jeweller. 

 Merchant  O, 'tis a worthy lord. 

 Jeweller  Nay, that's most fix'd. 

 Merchant  A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, 

 To an untirable and continuate goodness: 

 He passes. 

 Jeweller:	I have a jewel here-- 

 Merchant  O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir? 

 Jeweller:	If he will touch the estimate: but, for that-- 

 Poet  [Reciting to himself]  'When we for recompense have 

 praised the vile, 

 It stains the glory in that happy verse 

 Which aptly sings the good.' 

 Merchant  'Tis a good form. 



 Looking at the jewel  Jeweller  And rich: here is a water, look ye. 

 Painter  You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication 

 To the great lord. 

 Poet  A thing slipp'd idly from me. 

 Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 

 From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint 

 Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 

 Provokes itself and like the current flies 

 Each bound it chafes. What have you there? 

 Painter  A picture, sir. When comes your book forth? 

 Poet  Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. 

 Let's see your piece. 

 Painter  'Tis a good piece. 

 Poet  So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. 

 Painter  Indifferent. 

 Poet  Admirable: how this grace 

 Speaks his own standing! what a mental power 

 This eye shoots forth! how big imagination 

 Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture 

 One might interpret. 

 Painter  It is a pretty mocking of the life. 

 Here is a touch; is't good? 

 Poet  I will say of it, 

 It tutors nature: artificial strife 

 Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 



 Enter certain Senators, and pass over  Painter  How this lord is follow'd! 

 Poet  The senators of Athens: happy man! 

 Painter  Look, more! 

 Poet  You see this confluence, this great flood 

 of visitors. 

 I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, 

 Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug 

 With amplest entertainment: my free drift 

 Halts not particularly, but moves itself 

 In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice 

 Infects one comma in the course I hold; 

 But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, 

 Leaving no tract behind. 

 Painter  How shall I understand you? 

 Poet  I will unbolt to you. 

 You see how all conditions, how all minds, 

 As well of glib and slippery creatures as 

 Of grave and austere quality, tender down 

 Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune 

 Upon his good and gracious nature hanging 

 Subdues and properties to his love and tendance 

 All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer 

 To Apemantus, that few things loves better 

 Than to abhor himself: even he drops down 

 The knee before him, and returns in peace 

 Most rich in Timon's nod. 

 Painter  I saw them speak together. 

 Poet  Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill 

 Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount 

 Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, 

 That labour on the bosom of this sphere 

 To propagate their states: amongst them all, 

 Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, 

 One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame, 

 Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; 

 Whose present grace to present slaves and servants 

 Translates his rivals. 

 Painter  'Tis conceived to scope. 

 This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, 

 With one man beckon'd from the rest below, 

 Bowing his head against the sleepy mount 

 To climb his happiness, would be well express'd 

 In our condition. 

 Poet  Nay, sir, but hear me on. 

 All those which were his fellows but of late, 

 Some better than his value, on the moment 

 Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, 

 Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, 

 Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 

 Drink the free air. 

 Painter  Ay, marry, what of these? 

 Poet  When Fortune in her shift and change of mood 

 Spurns down her late beloved, 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. 

 Painter  'Tis common: 

 A thousand moral paintings I can show 

 That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's 

 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, addressing himself  courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from  VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following  TIMON  Imprison'd is he, say you? 

 Messenger  Ay, my 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, 

 Periods his comfort. 

 TIMON  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. 

 Messenger  Your lordship ever binds him. 

 TIMON  Commend me to him: I will send his ransom; 

 And being enfranchised, bid him come to me. 

 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, 

 But to support him after. Fare you well. 

 Messenger  All happiness to your honour! 



 Exit 

 Enter an old Athenian  Old Athenian  Lord Timon, hear me speak. 

 TIMON  Freely, good father. 

 Old Athenian  Thou hast a servant named Lucilius. 

 TIMON  I have so: what of him? 

 Old Athenian  Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. 

 TIMON  Attends he here, or no? Lucilius! 

 LUCILIUS  Here, at your lordship's service. 

 Old Athenian  This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature, 

 By night frequents my house. I am a man 

 That from my first have been inclined to thrift; 

 And my estate deserves an heir more raised 

 Than one which holds a trencher. 

 TIMON  Well; what further? 

 Old Athenian  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, 

 And I have bred her at my dearest cost 

 In qualities of the best. This man of thine 

 Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord, 

 Join with me to forbid him her resort; 

 Myself have spoke in vain. 

 TIMON  The man is honest. 

 Old Athenian  Therefore he will be, Timon: 

 His honesty rewards him in itself; 

 It must not bear my daughter. 

 TIMON  Does she love him? 

 Old Athenian  She is young and apt: 

 Our own precedent passions do instruct us 

 What levity's in youth. 

 TIMON  [To LUCILIUS]           Love you the maid? 

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

 Old Athenian  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. 

 TIMON  How shall she be endow'd, 

 if she be mated with an equal husband? 

 Old Athenian  Three talents on the present; in future, all. 

 TIMON  This gentleman of mine hath served 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 Athenian  Most noble lord, 

 Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. 

 TIMON  My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. 

 LUCILIUS  Humbly I thank your lordship: never may 

 The state or fortune fall into my keeping, 

 Which is not owed to you! 



 Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian  Poet  Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! 

 TIMON  I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: 

 Go not away. What have you there, my friend? 

 Painter  A piece of painting, which I do beseech 

 Your lordship to accept. 

 TIMON  Painting is welcome. 

 The painting is almost the natural man; 

 or since dishonour traffics with man's nature, 

 He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are 

 Even such as they give out. I like your work; 

 And you shall find I like it: wait attendance 

 Till you hear further from me. 

 Painter  The gods preserve ye! 

 TIMON  Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; 

 We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel 

 Hath suffer'd under praise. 

 Jeweller  What, my lord! dispraise? 

 TIMON  A more satiety of commendations. 

 If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, 

 It would unclew me quite. 

 Jeweller  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 the wearing it. 

 TIMON  Well mock'd. 

 Merchant  No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, 

 Which all men speak with him. 

 TIMON  Look, who comes here: will you be chid? 



 Enter APEMANTUS  Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship. 

 Merchant  He'll spare none. 

 TIMON  Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! 

 APEMANTUS  Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; 

 When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. 

 TIMON  Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not. 

 APEMANTUS  Are they not Athenians? 

 TIMON  Yes. 

 APEMANTUS  Then I repent not. 

 Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name. 

 TIMON  Thou art proud, Apemantus. 

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

 TIMON  Whither art going? 

 APEMANTUS  To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. 

 TIMON  That's a deed thou'lt die for. 

 APEMANTUS  Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. 

 TIMON  How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  The best, for the innocence. 

 TIMON  Wrought he not well that painted it? 

 APEMANTUS  He wrought better that made the painter; and yet 

 he's but a filthy piece of work. 

 Painter  You're a dog. 

 APEMANTUS  Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog? 

 TIMON  Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  No; I eat not lords. 

 TIMON  An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies. 

 APEMANTUS  O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies. 

 TIMON  That's a lascivious apprehension. 

 APEMANTUS  So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour. 

 TIMON  How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a 

 man a doit. 

 TIMON  What dost thou think 'tis worth? 

 APEMANTUS  Not worth my thinking. How now, poet! 

 Poet  How now, philosopher! 

 APEMANTUS  Thou liest. 

 Poet  Art not one? 

 APEMANTUS  Yes. 

 Poet  Then I lie not. 

 APEMANTUS  Art not a poet? 

 Poet  Yes. 

 APEMANTUS  Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou 

 hast feigned him a worthy fellow. 

 Poet  That's not feigned; he is so. 

 APEMANTUS  Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy 

 labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' 

 the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord! 

 TIMON  What wouldst do then, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart. 

 TIMON  What, thyself? 

 APEMANTUS  Ay. 

 TIMON  Wherefore? 

 APEMANTUS  That I had no angry wit to be a lord. 

 Art not thou a merchant? 

 Merchant  Ay, Apemantus. 

 APEMANTUS  Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! 

 Merchant  If traffic do it, the gods do it. 

 APEMANTUS  Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee! 



 Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger  TIMON  What trumpet's that? 

 Messenger  'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, 

 All of companionship. 

 TIMON  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: when dinner's done, 

 Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. 



 Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest  Most welcome, sir! 

 APEMANTUS  So, so, there! 

 Aches contract and starve your supple joints! 

 That there should be small love 'mongst these 

 sweet knaves, 

 And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out 

 Into baboon and monkey. 

 ALCIBIADES  Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed 

 Most hungerly on your sight. 

 TIMON  Right welcome, sir! 

 Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time 

 In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. 



 Exeunt all except APEMANTUS 

 Enter two Lords  First Lord  What time o' day is't, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  Time to be honest. 

 First Lord  That time serves still. 

 APEMANTUS  The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it. 

 Second Lord  Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast? 

 APEMANTUS  Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools. 

 Second Lord  Fare thee well, fare thee well. 

 APEMANTUS  Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. 

 Second Lord  Why, Apemantus? 

 APEMANTUS  Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to 

 give thee none. 

 First Lord  Hang thyself! 

 APEMANTUS  No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy 

 requests to thy friend. 

 Second Lord  Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence! 

 APEMANTUS  I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass. 



 Exit  First Lord  He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, 

 And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes 

 The very heart of kindness. 

 Second Lord  He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, 

 Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays 

 Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, 

 But breeds the giver a return exceeding 

 All use of quittance. 

 First Lord  The noblest mind he carries 

 That ever govern'd man. 

 Second Lord  Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in? 

 First Lord  I'll keep you company. 



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