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Jew. If he will touch the estimate : but for that
Poet. When we for recompence have prais'd the vile, It ftains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly fings the good.
Mer. 'Tis a good form. (Looking on the jeruel. Jewy. And rich; here is a water, look ye.
Pain. You're rapt, Sir, in some work, some dedication To the great Lord.
Poet. A thing slipt idly from me.
Pain. A picture, Sir:-when comes your book forth?
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, Sir. Let's see your piece.
Pain. "Tis a good piece.
Poct. So 'tis,
Poet. Admirable! how this grace
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life:
Poet. I'll say of it,
(1) Each bound it chases.--) How, chases? The flood, indeed beat. ing up upon the shore, covers a part of it, but cannot be said to drive the shore away. The poet's allufion is to a wive, which, foaming and chafing on the more, breaks; and then the water seems to the eye to retire. So, in Lear.
-The murmuring surge,
Enter certain Senators.
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visiters.
Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see, how all conditions, how all minds, As well of glib and flipp’ry creatures, as Of grave and auftere quality, tender down Their service 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-fac'd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself; ev'n he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod.
Pain. I saw them speak together.
Poet. I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The base o'th' 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 fov’reign Lady fixt, One do personate of T'imon's frame, Whom Fortune with her iv'ry hand wafts to her,
(2) Happy men!] Thus the printed copies: but I cannot think the poet meant, that the senators were happy in being admitte to Timon; their quality might command that: but that Timon was happy in being follow'd, and caress’d, by those of their rank and dignity. F 2
Whofe prefent grace to present flaves and servants
Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to th' scope. (3)
Poeti Nay, but hear me on:
Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants (Which labour'd after to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands,) let him flip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'Tis common : A thousand moral paintings I can skew, That shall demonstrate thele quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well To ihew Lord Timom, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.
(3) 'Tis conceiv'd, to scope
This throne, this fortune, &c.] Thus all the editors hitherto have nonfenfically writ, and pointed, this passage. But, sure, the painter would tell the poet, your conception, Sir, hits the very scope you aim at. This the Greeks would have render'd, tő oxota Tuxeis, re&ta ad Scopum tendis: and Cicero has thus express’d on the like occalion, Signum oculis defiinatum firis. This sense our author, in his Henry 8th, exprefits;
I think, you've bit the mark.
Him, and his worth, and our great need of him,
Trumpets found. Enter Timon, addresing bimself courteously
to every suitor. Tim. Imprison’d is he, say you? [To a Mefinger. Mef. Ay, my good Lord; five talents in his debt, His means molt inort, his creditors moit straight: Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up, which failing to him Periods his comfort.
Tim. Noble Ventidius! well me I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he most needs me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, Which he ihall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him.
Mes. Your Lord hip ever binds him.
Tiin. Commend me to him, I will send his ransom-; And, being enfranchiz'd, bid h'm come to me; 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well. Mes. All happiness to your honour ! [Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature
eftate deferves an heir more rais’d, Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim. Well: what further?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, ro kin elfe, 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 deareft cost,
Tim. The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon. (4)
Tim. Does the love him s
Tim. Love you the maid?
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be mising,
Tim. How shall she be endowed,
Old Ath. Three talents on the present, in future all.
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath fervid me long;
Old Ath. Most noble Lord,
Tim. My hand to thee, mine honour on my promise,
Luc. Humbly I thank your Lordship: never may That ftate, or fortune, fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you. [Exe. Luc. and old Athenian.
Poet. Vouch safe my labour, and long live your Lordship! Tim. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon :
(4) Therefore be will be, Timon.] The thought is closely express’d, and obscure : but this seems the meaning. “ If the man be honeft,
Lord, for that reason he will be so in this; and not endeavour “ at the injustice of gaining my daughter without my consent."