« PreviousContinue »
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy :
their false bloods ! And so farewel, and thrive.
Flav. O, let me ftay, and comfort you, my master.
Tim. If thou hat'st curses,
[Exeunt severally, Enter Poet and Painter. Pain. As I took note of the place, it can't be far where he abides.
Poet. What's to be thought of himi does the rumour hold for true, that he's so full of gold?
Pain. Certain. Alcibiades reports it: Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him : he likewise enrich'd poor stragling foldiers with great quantity. 'Tis said, he gave his steward a mighty sum.
Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a tryal for his friends?
Pain. Nothing else: you fhall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in this fuppos’d distress of his : it will shew honestly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it 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 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'th' time; it opens the eyes of expectation, Performance is ever the duller for his act, and, but in the
plainer and fimpler kind of people, the deed is quite Out of use. To promise, is most courtly, and fashionable ; performance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great fickness in his judgment that makes it.
Re enter Timon from his cave, unseen. Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man so bad as 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. Muit thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men ? do so, I have gold for thee.
Poet. Nay, let's seek him.
Tim. I'll meet you at the turnWhat a god's gold, that he is worshipped In baler temples, than where swine do feed ! 'Tis thou that rigg'ft the bark, and plow'st the wave, (36) Settleft admired rev'rence in a slave; To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crown’d with plagues, that thee alone obey ! 'Tis fit I meet them.
Poet. Hail ! worthy Timon. Pain. Our late noble malter. (35) Wbile tbe day serves, &c.] This couplet in all the editions is placed to the painter, but, as it is in rhyme, and a fequel of the senti: ment begun by the poet, I have made no scruple to ascribe it to him.
(36) 'Tis thou that rigg'A the bark, and plow'st the foam, Settlest admired rev’rer.ce in a fave ;] As both the couplets preceding, and following this, are in rhyme, I am very apt to suspect, the rhyme is dismounted here by an accidental corruption; and therefore have ventur'd to replace wave in the room of foam.
Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honeft men ?
Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted,
fize of words.
Pain. He, and myself,
Tim. Ay, you're honeft men.
Tim. Moft honeft men ! why, how shall I requite you?
service. Tim. Y'are honest men ; you've heard, that I have gold; I'm sure, you have ; speak truth, y'are honest men.
Pain. So it is said, my noble Lord, but therefore Came not my friend, nor I.
Tim. Good honeft man ; thou draw'ft a counterfeit Beft in all Athens ; thou'rt, indeed, the best ; Thou counterfeit'st moft lively.
Pain. So, fo, my Lord.
(37) Let it go, naked men may feet the better ;] Thus has this paffage been stupidly pointed thro' all the editions, as if naked men could fee better than men in their cloaths. I think verily, if there were any room to credit the experiment, such editors ought to go naked for the improvement of their eye-lights. But, perhaps, they have as little faith as judgment in their own readings. The poet, in the preeeding speech, haranguing on the ingratitude of Timon's false friends, says, he cannot cover the monstrousness of it with any fize of words ; to which Timon, as I have rectified the pointing, very aptly replies i Let it
naked, -men may see't tbe better. So, our poet in his Much Ado about Nothing.
Why seek't thou then to cover with excuse
Tim. E'en so, Sir, as I say-And for thy fiction,
Both. Beseech your honour
Tim. You'll take it ill.
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 cogg, see him dissemble,
Pain. I know none such, my Lord.
Tim. Look you, I love you well, I'll give you gold,
Both. Name them, my Lord, let's know them.
Tim. You that way, and you this;--but two in company. Each man apart, all fingle 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 wouldīt not reside [Tathe Poet. But where one villain is, then him abandon. Hence, pack, there's gold; ye came for gold, ye flaves; You have work for me; there's your payment, hence ! You are an alchymist, make gold of that: Out, rascal dogs! [Beating, and driving 'em out.
Enter Flavius and two Senators.
i Sen. Bring us to his cave.
2 Sen. At all times alike
Flav. Here is his cave:
Enter Timon out of his Cave.
i Sen. Worthy Timon,
Tim. I thank them. And would send them back the Could I but catch it for them.
[plague, i Sen. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves, in thee : The Senators, with one consent of love, Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie For thy best use and wearing.
2 Sen. They confess -Tow'rd thee forgetfulness, too general, grofs; 3