Tim.

You'll take it ill.

Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Tim.

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 his 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.

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,

[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! You are an alchymist, make gold of that :

SCENE II.

The same.

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.

1 Sen.

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

2 Sen.

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 him, And chance it as it may.

Flav.

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.

Enter 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!

1 Sen.

Worthy Timon— Tim. 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 the plague,

Could I but catch it for them.

1 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.

2 Sen.

They confess,

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 render†,
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 read them thine.

Tim.
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 senators.

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 with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority :-so soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild ;

Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.

2 Sen.

And shakes his threat'ning sword

Against the walls of Athens.

1 Sen.

Therefore, Timon,

Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; Thus,

If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That-Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens,

* With one united voice of affection.

Licensed, uncontrolled.

+ Confession.

And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
Giving our holy 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 unruly 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 †,
As thieves to keepers.

Flav.

Stay not, all's in vain.

Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph,

It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness
Of health †, 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!

1 Sen.

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.

1 Sen. That's well spoke. Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen,1 Sen. These words become your lips as they pass through them.

2 Sen. And enter in our ears like great triúmphers In their applauding gates.

Tim. Commend me to them; 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

* A clasp knife.

tie. The gods who are the authors of the prosperity of mankind. He means the disease of life begins to promise me a period. § Report, rumour.

In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them :

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.
2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again.
Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it; Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree*,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself:-I pray you, do my greeting.
Flav. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall
find him.

Tim. Come not to me again: but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
Which once a day with his embossed froth +
The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your oracle.-
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end;
What is amiss, plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works; and death, their gain !
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.
[Exit Timon.
1 Sen. His discontents are unremoveably
Coupled to nature.

2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us