<SPEECH 1><ACT 1><SCENE 1><0%>
<POET>	<0%>
	Good day, sir.
</POET>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 1><SCENE 1><0%>
<POET>	<1%>
	I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
</POET>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 1><SCENE 1><0%>
<POET>	<1%>
	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 conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
</POET>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 1><SCENE 1><1%>
<POET>	<1%>
	When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,
	It stains the glory in that happy verse
	Which aptly sings the good.
</POET>

<SPEECH 5><ACT 1><SCENE 1><1%>
<POET>	<1%>
	A thing slipp'd idly from me.
	Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
	From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the 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?
</POET>

<SPEECH 6><ACT 1><SCENE 1><1%>
<POET>	<2%>
	Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
	Let's see your piece.
</POET>

<SPEECH 7><ACT 1><SCENE 1><1%>
<POET>	<2%>
	So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.
</POET>

<SPEECH 8><ACT 1><SCENE 1><1%>
<POET>	<2%>
	Admirable! How this grace
	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.
</POET>

<SPEECH 9><ACT 1><SCENE 1><2%>
<POET>	<2%>
	I'll say of it,
	It tutors nature: artificial strife
	Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

</POET>

<SPEECH 10><ACT 1><SCENE 1><2%>
<POET>	<2%>
	The senators of Athens: happy man!
</POET>

<SPEECH 11><ACT 1><SCENE 1><2%>
<POET>	<2%>
	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: 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.
</POET>

<SPEECH 12><ACT 1><SCENE 1><2%>
<POET>	<3%>
	I will unbolt to you.
	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 himself: even he drops down
	The knee before him and returns in peace
	Most rich in Timon's nod.
</POET>

<SPEECH 13><ACT 1><SCENE 1><3%>
<POET>	<3%>
	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.
</POET>

<SPEECH 14><ACT 1><SCENE 1><3%>
<POET>	<4%>
	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.
</POET>

<SPEECH 15><ACT 1><SCENE 1><3%>
<POET>	<4%>
	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.
</POET>

<SPEECH 16><ACT 1><SCENE 1><7%>
<POET>	<7%>
	Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
</POET>

<SPEECH 17><ACT 1><SCENE 1><9%>
<POET>	<10%>
	How now, philosopher!
</POET>

<SPEECH 18><ACT 1><SCENE 1><10%>
<POET>	<10%>
	Art not one?
</POET>

<SPEECH 19><ACT 1><SCENE 1><10%>
<POET>	<10%>
	Then I lie not.
</POET>

<SPEECH 20><ACT 1><SCENE 1><10%>
<POET>	<10%>
	Yes.
</POET>

<SPEECH 21><ACT 1><SCENE 1><10%>
<POET>	<10%>
	That's not feigned; he is so.
</POET>

<SPEECH 22><ACT 5><SCENE 1><85%>
<POET>	<85%>
	What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he is so full of gold?
</POET>

<SPEECH 23><ACT 5><SCENE 1><85%>
<POET>	<85%>
	Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.
</POET>

<SPEECH 24><ACT 5><SCENE 1><86%>
<POET>	<86%>
	What have you now to present unto him?
</POET>

<SPEECH 25><ACT 5><SCENE 1><86%>
<POET>	<86%>
	I must serve him so too; tell him of an intent that's coming towards him.
</POET>

<SPEECH 26><ACT 5><SCENE 1><86%>
<POET>	<87%>
	I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
</POET>

<SPEECH 27><ACT 5><SCENE 1><87%>
<POET>	<87%>
	Nay, let's seek him:
	Then do we sin against our own estate,
	When we may profit meet, and come too late.
</POET>

<SPEECH 28><ACT 5><SCENE 1><87%>
<POET>	<87%>
	Hail, worthy Timon!
</POET>

<SPEECH 29><ACT 5><SCENE 1><87%>
<POET>	<87%>
	Sir,
	Having often of your open bounty tasted,
	Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,
	Whose thankless natures—O abhorred spirits!
	Not all the whips of heaven are large enough—
	What! to you,
	Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
	To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover
	The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
	With any size of words.
</POET>

<SPEECH 30><ACT 5><SCENE 1><89%>
<POET>	<89%>
	Nor I.
</POET>

