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 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 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. 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 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 you!
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 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