The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare/Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso/shakes/text/36/01_01

Text File | 1991-04-10 | 14KB | 490 lines

Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.
 Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, and MERCER, at several doors.

Poet    Good day, sir.

Painter                    I am glad y'are 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 fixed.

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    [Recites.] "When we for recompense have praised the vile,
    It stains the glory in that happy verse
    Which aptly sings the good."

Merchant    [Looking at the jewel.]        'Tis a good form.

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 slipped idly from me.
    Our poesy is as a gum which oozes
    From whence 'tis nourishd. The fire i'th' 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 th' 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, who pass over the stage and go in to Timon.

Painter    How this lord is followed!

Poet    The senators of Athens. Happy men!

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 levelled 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 slipp'ry 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
    Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o'th' mount
    Is ranked 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 fixed
    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 beckoned from the rest below,
    Bowing his head against the steepy mount
    To climb his happiness, would be well expressed
    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 laboured 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 LORD TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor,
               a MESSENGER from Ventidius talking with him;
                  LUCILIUS and other SERVANTS following.

Timon                                Imprisoned 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'th' 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                            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 endowed
    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
    That state or fortune fall into my keeping
    Which is not owed to you.
                              [Exeunt LUCILIUS and OLD ATHENIAN.
Poet    [Presenting his poem.]
    Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

Timon    I thank you; you shall hear from me anon.
    Go not away. [To PAINTER.] 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;
    For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
    He is but outside; these pencilled 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 suffered under praise.

Jeweller                                What, my lord - dispraise?

Timon    A mere satiety of commendations.
    If I should pay you for't as 'tis extolled,
    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 prizd by their masters. Believe't, dear lord,
    You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

Timon    Well mocked.

                             Enter APEMANTUS.

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?

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 called 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 th' law.

Timon    How lik'st 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    Y'are 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'dst anger ladies.

Apemantus    O, they eat lords - so they come by great bellies.

Timon    That's a lascivious apprehension.

Apemantus    So thou apprehend'st 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'th' 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 SERVANTS.
    [To JEWELLER.]You must needs dine with me.
                                    [To POET.] Go not you hence
    Till I have thanked you. [To PAINTER.] When dinner's done,
    Show me this piece. [To ALL.] 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 amongst 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 but APEMANTUS.
                             Enter two LORDS.

1st Lord    What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

Apemantus    Time to be honest.

1st Lord    That time serves still.

Apemantus    The most accursd thou that still omit'st it.

2nd Lord    Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

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

2nd Lord    Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apemantus    Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

2nd Lord    Why, Apemantus?

Apemantus    Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee
    none.

1st Lord    Hang thyself!

Apemantus    No, I will do nothing at thy bidding. Make thy requests to
    thy friend.

2nd Lord    Away, unpeaceable dog! - or I'll spurn thee hence.

Apemantus    I will fly, like a dog, the heels o'th' ass.
                                                    [Exit.
1st Lord    He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in
    And taste Lord Timon's bounty? He outgoes
    The very heart of kindness.

2nd 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.

1st Lord                            The noblest mind he carries
    That ever governed man.

2nd Lord    Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

1st Lord    I'll keep you company.
                                                    [Exeunt.