Good day, sir

Poet
Good day, sir.
Painter
I am glad you’re well.
Poet
I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
Painter
It wears, sir, as it grows.

I will say of it,
It tutors nature. Artificial strife
Lives in these touches livelier than life.

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
I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweler.
Merchant, to Jeweler 
O, ’tis a worthy lord!
Jeweler
Nay, that’s most fixed.
Merchant
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness.
He passes.
Jeweler
I have a jewel here—
Merchant
O, pray, let’s see ’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweler
If he will touch the estimate. But for that—
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.
Jeweler
And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
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
Provokes itself and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chases. What have you there?
Painter
A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
Poet
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let’s see your piece.
Painter
’Tis a good piece.
Poet
So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.
Painter
Indifferent.
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?
Poet
I will say of it,
It tutors nature. Artificial strife
Lives in these touches livelier than life.