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.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; Is't good?
Poet.

I'll say of it, . It tutors nature: artificial strife

Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord's follow'd!
Poet. The senators of Athens:—Happy men!
Pain. Look, more!
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of

visitors.
I have, in this rough work, shap'd 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:8 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.

Pain. How shall I understand you
Poet.

I'll unbolt to you.

?

6 — artificial strife-] Strife is the contest of art with nature.

7 Halts not particularly,] My design does not stop at any single character. Johnson.

8 In a wide sea of war:] Anciently they wrote upon waxen tables with an iron style.

9— no levellid malice, &c.] To level is to aim, to point the shot at a mark. Shakspeare's meaning is, my poem is not a satire written with any particular view, or levelled at any single person; I fly like an eagle into the general expanse of life, and leave not, by any private mischief, the trace of my passage.

fu unbolt -] I'll open, I'll explain. Johnson.

1

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-fac'd flatterer? To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor hiinself: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod. Pain.

I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: 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. Pain.

'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressid In our condition. Poet.

Nay, sir, but hear me on:

6

3

-glass-fac'd flatterer-) That shows in his look, as by reflection, the looks of his patron. Johnson.

rank'd with all deserts,] Cover'd with ranks of all kinds of men. Johnson.

4 To propagate their states:) To advance or improve their various conditions of life. Jounson.

conceiv'd to scope.] Properly imagined, appositely, to the purpose. JOHNSON.

• In our condition.] Condition for art.

5

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 stirrop, and through him
Drink the free air.
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 him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. 'Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune 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, attended ; the Ser.

vant of VENTIDIUs talking with him. Tim.

Imprison'd is he, say you? Ven. Serv. 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 to him,

to a god.

* Rain sacrificial whisperings-) i. e. whisperings of officious servility, the incense of the worshipping parasite to the patron as

through him Drink the free air.] That is, breathe only with his permission.

A thousand moral paintings I can show,] Shakspeare seems to intend in this dialogue to express sone competition between the two great arts of imitation. Whatever the poet declares himself to have shown, the painter thinks he could have shown better.

9

Periods his comfort.
Tim.

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.

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ran-

some;
And, being enfranchis’d, bid him come to me:-
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.

Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!? [Exit.

Enter an old Athenian.

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.

Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam d Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before

thee. Tim. Attends he here, or no?—Lucilius!

Enter Lucilius.
Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy

creature,
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin’d to thrift;
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim.

Well; what further?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else,

2

your honour.'] The common address to a lord in our author's time, was your honour, which was indifferently used with your lordship.

and apt:

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 prythee, noble lord,
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, 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.

Therefore he will be, Timon:] The thought is closely expressed, and obscure: but this seems the meaning: “ If the man be honest, my lord, for that reason he will be so in this; and not endeavour at the injustice of gaining my daughter without my consent." WARBURTON.