No Fear Shakespeare: Timon of Athens: Act 1 Scene 1

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Timon of Athens

William Shakespeare

Original Text

Modern Text

Original Text

Modern Text

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Original Text	Modern Text
Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELER, and MERCHANT, at several doors.	Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELER, and MERCHANT, at several doors.
POET Good day, sir.	POET Good day, sir.
PAINTER I am glad you’re well.	PAINTER I am glad you’re well.
POET I have not seen you long. How goes the world?	POET I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
PAINTER It wears, sir, as it grows.	PAINTER It wears, sir, as it grows.
POET 5 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.	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 10 I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweler.	PAINTER I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweler.
MERCHANT , to JEWELER O, ’tis a worthy lord!	MERCHANT , to JEWELER O, ’tis a worthy lord!
JEWELER Nay, that’s most fixed.	JEWELER Nay, that’s most fixed.
MERCHANT A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. 15 He passes.	MERCHANT A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.
JEWELER I have a jewel here—	JEWELER I have a jewel here—
MERCHANT O, pray, let’s see ’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?	MERCHANT O, pray, let’s see ’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?
JEWELER If he will touch the estimate. But for that—	JEWELER If he will touch the estimate. But for that—
POET , to PAINTER When we for recompense have praised the vile, 20 It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.	POET , to PAINTER 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.	MERCHANT , looking at the jewel ’Tis a good form.
JEWELER And rich. Here is a water, look ye.	JEWELER And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER , to POET You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication 25 To the great lord.	PAINTER , to POET 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 nourished. The fire i’ th’ flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 30 Provokes itself and, like the current, flies Each bound it chases. What have you there?	POET A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum which oozes From whence ’tis nourished. The fire i’ th’ flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself and, like the current, flies Each bound it chases. What have you there?
PAINTER A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?	PAINTER A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
POET Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.	POET Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.
PAINTER 35 ’Tis a good piece.	PAINTER ’Tis a good piece.
POET So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.	POET So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.
PAINTER Indifferent.	PAINTER Indifferent.
POET Admirable! How this grace Speaks his own standing! What a mental power 40 This eye shoots forth! How big imagination Moves in this lip! To th’ dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.	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?	PAINTER It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch. Is ’t good?
POET 45 I will say of it, It tutors nature. Artificial strife Lives in these touches livelier than life.	POET I will say of it, It tutors nature. Artificial strife Lives in these touches livelier than life.
Enter certain SENATORS.	Enter certain SENATORS.
PAINTER How this lord is followed.	PAINTER How this lord is followed.
POET The senators of Athens, happy men.	POET The senators of Athens, happy men.
PAINTER 50 Look, more.	PAINTER Look, more.
POET You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. (Indicating his poem.) I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug 55 With amplest entertainment. My free drift Halts not particularly but moves itself In a wide sea of wax. No leveled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, 60 Leaving no tract behind.	POET You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. (Indicating his poem.) 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 leveled 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?	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 65 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 70 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.	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.	PAINTER I saw them speak together.
POET 75 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 labor on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states. Amongst them all 80 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.	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 labor 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 85 ’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 90 In our condition.	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, 95 Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.	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?	PAINTER Ay, marry, what of these?
POET When Fortune in her shift and change of mood 100 Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which labored after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.	POET When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which labored after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Original Text	Modern Text
Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELER, and MERCHANT, at several doors.	Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELER, and MERCHANT, at several doors.
POET Good day, sir.	POET Good day, sir.
PAINTER I am glad you’re well.	PAINTER I am glad you’re well.
POET I have not seen you long. How goes the world?	POET I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
PAINTER It wears, sir, as it grows.	PAINTER It wears, sir, as it grows.
POET 5 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.	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 10 I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweler.	PAINTER I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweler.
MERCHANT , to JEWELER O, ’tis a worthy lord!	MERCHANT , to JEWELER O, ’tis a worthy lord!
JEWELER Nay, that’s most fixed.	JEWELER Nay, that’s most fixed.
MERCHANT A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. 15 He passes.	MERCHANT A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.
JEWELER I have a jewel here—	JEWELER I have a jewel here—
MERCHANT O, pray, let’s see ’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?	MERCHANT O, pray, let’s see ’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?
JEWELER If he will touch the estimate. But for that—	JEWELER If he will touch the estimate. But for that—
POET , to PAINTER When we for recompense have praised the vile, 20 It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.	POET , to PAINTER 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.	MERCHANT , looking at the jewel ’Tis a good form.
JEWELER And rich. Here is a water, look ye.	JEWELER And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER , to POET You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication 25 To the great lord.	PAINTER , to POET 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 nourished. The fire i’ th’ flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 30 Provokes itself and, like the current, flies Each bound it chases. What have you there?	POET A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum which oozes From whence ’tis nourished. The fire i’ th’ flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself and, like the current, flies Each bound it chases. What have you there?
PAINTER A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?	PAINTER A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
POET Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.	POET Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.
PAINTER 35 ’Tis a good piece.	PAINTER ’Tis a good piece.
POET So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.	POET So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.
PAINTER Indifferent.	PAINTER Indifferent.
POET Admirable! How this grace Speaks his own standing! What a mental power 40 This eye shoots forth! How big imagination Moves in this lip! To th’ dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.	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?	PAINTER It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch. Is ’t good?
POET 45 I will say of it, It tutors nature. Artificial strife Lives in these touches livelier than life.	POET I will say of it, It tutors nature. Artificial strife Lives in these touches livelier than life.
Enter certain SENATORS.	Enter certain SENATORS.
PAINTER How this lord is followed.	PAINTER How this lord is followed.
POET The senators of Athens, happy men.	POET The senators of Athens, happy men.
PAINTER 50 Look, more.	PAINTER Look, more.
POET You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. (Indicating his poem.) I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug 55 With amplest entertainment. My free drift Halts not particularly but moves itself In a wide sea of wax. No leveled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, 60 Leaving no tract behind.	POET You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. (Indicating his poem.) 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 leveled 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?	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 65 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 70 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.	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.	PAINTER I saw them speak together.
POET 75 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 labor on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states. Amongst them all 80 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.	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 labor 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 85 ’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 90 In our condition.	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, 95 Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.	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?	PAINTER Ay, marry, what of these?
POET When Fortune in her shift and change of mood 100 Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which labored after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.	POET When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which labored after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.