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Having often of your open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall’n off,
Whose thankless natures- 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'm rapt, and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.
Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the better:
You, that are honest, by being 'what you are,
Make them hest seen, and known.
He, and myself, Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Tim.
Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service. Tim. Most honest men ! Why, how shall I requite
you? Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.
Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. Tim. You are honest men: You have heard that
I have gold; I am sure you have: speak truth: you are honest
Pain. So it is said, my voble lord: but therefore
Came not my friend, nor I.
Tim. Good honest men:-Thou draw'st a coun.
Best in all Atheus: thou art, indeed, the best!
Thou counterfeit'st most lively.
So, so, my lord. Tim. Even so, sir, as I say :- And, for thy fiction,
[To the Poet. Why thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art. But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, I must needs say, you have a little fault:
• A portrait was so called,
Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I,
You take much pains to mend.
Beseech your hououi,
To make it known to us.
You'll take it ill.
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Will you, indeed? Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you. Both.
Do we, my lord ?
Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know bis gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom; yet remain assur’d,
That he's a made-up villain*.
Pain. I know none such, my lord.
Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you
Rid me these villains from your companies :
Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draughtt,
Confound them by some course, and conie to me,
I'll give you gold enough.
Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them.
Tim. You that way, and you this, but two in
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
If, where thou art, two villains shall not be,
[To the Painter. Come not near him.-If thou would'st not reside
[To the Poet. But where one villain is, then him abandon, Hence! pack! there's gold, ye came for gold, ye
slaves : You have done work for me, there's payment: Hence!
* A complete, a finished villain.
† la a jakes.
You are an alchymist, make gold of that:-
Out, rascal dogs!
(Exit, beating and driving them out.
Enter Flavius, and two Senators.
Flav. It is in vaid that you would speak with
For he is set so only to himself,
That nothing but himself, which looks like man,
Is friendly with him.
Bring us to his cave :
It is our part, and promise to the Athenians,
To speak with Timon.
At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'Twas time, and griefs,
That fram'd him thus : time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him : Bring us to bim,
And chance it as it may.
Here is his cave.Peace and content be here ! Lord Timon! Timon ! Look out, and speak to friends: The Athenians, By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee: Speak to them, noble Timon.
Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!-Speak,
and be hang'd:
For each true word, a blister! and each false
Be as a caut'rizing to the root o' the tongue,
Consuming it with speaking !
Worthy TimonTim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon, 2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. Tim. I thank them; and would send them back
Could I but catch it for them.
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators, with one consent of love*,
Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross:
Which now the publick body,which doth seldom
Play the recanter,-feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon;
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed rendert,
Together with a recompence more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth,
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to readthem thine.
You witch me in it;
Surprise me to the very brink of tears :
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy sepators.
1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens (thine, and ours), to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd I with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority :-50 soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild;
Who, like a boar too savage, dotly root up
His country's peace.
# With one united voice of affection.
Confession. | Licensed, uncontrolled,
And shakes his threat'ning sword Against the walls of Athens. 1 Sen.
Therefore, Timon,Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sis ;
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That-Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
Giving our lioly virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war;
Then, let him know,—and tell him Timon speaks it,
In pity of our aged, and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him, that-I care not,
And let him tak't at worst; for their knives care not,
While you have throats to answer : for myself,
There's not a whittle* in the uuruly camp,
But I do prize it at my love, before
The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the prosperous gods t,
As thieves to keepers.
Stay not, all's in vain.
Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen tomorrow; My long sickness
Of healtht, and living, now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
And last so long enough!
We speak in vain.
Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not
One that rejoices in the common wreck,
As common bruits doth put it.
That's well spoke.
* A clasp knife.
+ i.e. The gods who are the authors of the prospe. rity of mankind.
# He means—the disease of life begins to promise me a period.