Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scope This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes With one man becken'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the sleepy Mount To climbe his happinesse, would be well exprest In our Condition

Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on: All those which were his Fellowes but of late, Some better then his valew; on the moment Follow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance, Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare, Make Sacred euen his styrrop, and through him Drinke the free Ayre

Pain. I marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurnes downe her late beloued; all his Dependants Which labour'd after him to the Mountaines top, Euen on their knees and hand, let him sit downe, Not one accompanying his declining foot

Pain. Tis common: A thousand morall Paintings I can shew, That shall demonstrate these quicke blowes of Fortunes, More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well, To shew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue seene The foot aboue the head. Trumpets sound.

Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.

Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt, His meanes most short, his Creditors most straite: Your Honourable Letter he desires To those haue shut him vp, which failing, Periods his comfort

Tim. Noble Ventidius, well: I am not of that Feather, to shake off My Friend when he must neede me. I do know him A Gentleman, that well deserues a helpe, Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him

Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him

Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome, And being enfranchized bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp, But to support him after. Fare you well

Mes. All happinesse to your Honor. Enter.

Enter an old Athenian.

Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake

Tim. Freely good Father

Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius

Tim. I haue so: What of him? Oldm. Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee

Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius

Luc. Heere at your Lordships seruice

Oldm. This Fellow heere, L[ord]. Timon, this thy Creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first haue beene inclin'd to thrift, And my estate deserues an Heyre more rais'd, Then one which holds a Trencher

Tim. Well: what further? Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin else, On whom I may conferre what I haue got: The Maid is faire, a'th' youngest for a Bride, And I haue bred her at my deerest cost In Qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord) Ioyne with me to forbid him her resort, My selfe haue spoke in vaine

Tim. The man is honest

Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon, His honesty rewards him in it selfe, It must not beare my Daughter

Tim. Does she loue him? Oldm. She is yong and apt: Our owne precedent passions do instruct vs What leuities in youth

Tim. Loue you the Maid? Luc. I my good Lord, and she accepts of it

Oldm. If in her Marriage my consent be missing, I call the Gods to witnesse, I will choose Mine heyre from forth the Beggers of the world, And dispossesse her all

Tim. How shall she be endowed, If she be mated with an equall Husband? Oldm. Three Talents on the present; in future, all

Tim. This Gentleman of mine Hath seru'd me long: To build his Fortune, I will straine a little, For 'tis a Bond in men. Giue him thy Daughter, What you bestow, in him Ile counterpoize, And make him weigh with her

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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Timon von Athen