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Tim. Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;
I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest
Pain. So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore Came not my friend nor I.
Tim. Good honest men! Thou draw'st a
Best in all Athens: thou 'rt, indeed, the best;
Tim. E'en so, sir, as I say.
So so, my lord.
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,
Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
To make it known to us.
Beseech your honour
You'll take it ill.
Will you, indeed?
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Tim. There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,
That mightily deceives you.
Do we, my lord?
Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured
That he's a made-up villain.
Pain. I know none such, my lord.
98. cog, deceive. 99. patchery,
hypocrisy, which, like a clumsy
blundering patch, fails to hide the fault.
Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you
Rid me these villains from your companies:
Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them. Tim. You that way and you this, but two in company;
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
If where thou art two villains shall not be,
[To Painter] You have work'd for me; there's
[To Poet] You are an alchemist; make gold of that. Out, rascal dogs! [Beats them out, and then
retires to his cave.
Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators.
Flav. It is in vain 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.
Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs
The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
Here is his cave.
TIMON comes from his cave.
Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak
For each true word, a blister! and each false
Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of
First Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee,
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
For thy best use and wearing.
Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of it own fail, restraining aid to Timon;
And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render, 152. sorrow'd render, sorrowful confession.
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Ever to read them 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 of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.
And shakes his threatening sword
Against the walls of Athens.
Therefore, Timon,- 170
Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir;
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens,
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,
I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,
165. Allow'd with, authoritatively invested with. VOL. X
While you have throats to answer: for myself,
So I leave you
But I do prize it at my love before
Stay not, all's in vain.
Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
And last so long enough!
Go, live still;
We speak in vain.
Tim. But yet I love my country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wreck,
As common bruit doth put it.
That's well spoke.
Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen,First Sen. These words become your lips as they pass thorough them.
Sec. Sen. And enter in our ears like great triumphers
In their applauding gates.
Tim. Commend me to them, 200 And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them :
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. First Sen. I like this well; he will return again Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
202. aches (disyllabic; ch=tsh).