be a just and true report that goes of his

having.

Poet. What have you now to present unto him?

Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I 20 will promise him an excellent piece.

Poet. I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent

that's coming toward him.

Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the time it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great 30 sickness in his judgement that makes it.

[Timon comes from his cave, behind. Tim. [Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.

Poet. 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.

Tim. [Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own 4C faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet. Nay, let's seek him:

Then do we sin against our own estate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Pain. True;

When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,

Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim. [Aside] I'll meet you at the turn.

What a god's gold,

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That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple

Than where swine feed!

'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam, Settlest admired reverence in a slave:

To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye

Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey !

Fit I meet them.

Poet. Hail, worthy Timon!

Pain.

[Coming forward.

Our late noble master!

60

Tim. Have I once lived to see two honest men?
Poet. Sir,

Having often of your open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retired, 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.

Tim. Let it go naked, men may see 't the better.
You that are honest, by being what you are,
Make them best seen and known.

Pain.

Tim.

He and myself

Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.

Ay, you are honest men.

Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service.

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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. Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;

I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men. Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore 81

Came not my friend nor I.

Tim. Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit
Best in all Athens: thou 'rt indeed the best;
Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Pain.

So, so, my lord.

Tim. E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,

Bot..

Tim.

Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
That thou art even natural in thine art.

But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,
I must needs say you have a little fault:
Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.

To make it known to us.

Beseech your honour

You'll take it ill.

Will you, indeed?

Both. Most thankfully, my lord.

Tim.

Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.

Tim. There's never 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 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.

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100

Poet.

Nor I.

Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,

Rid me these villains from your companies:

Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,
Confound them by some course, and come 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 company: Each man apart, all single and alone,

Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

If, where thou art, two villains shall not be,
Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside
But where one villain is, then him abandon.

ΙΙΟ

Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves: [To Painter] You have work for me, there's payment: hence!

[To Poet] You are an alchemist, make gold of that: Out, rascal dogs!

[Beats them out, and then retires into his cave.

Enter Flavius, and two Senators.

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;
For he is set so only to himself

That nothing but himself which looks like man
Is friendly with him.

First Sen.

Bring us to his cave:
It is our part and promise to the Athenians
To speak with Timon.

Sec. Sen.

At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs
That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,

The former man may make him. Bring us to him,

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Flav.

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.

Timon comes from his cave.

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Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and be hang'd:
For each true word, a blister! and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,
Consuming it with speaking!

First Sen.

Worthy Timon,—

Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
First Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
Tim. I thank them, and would send them back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.

First Sen.

O, forget

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.

Sec. Sen.

They confess

Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
Play the recanter, feeling in itself

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A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal

Of it own fail, restraining aid to Timon;

And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,

Together with a recompense more fruitful

Than their offence can weigh down by the dram ;

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