Came not my friend, nor I. Tim. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a coun terfeit Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best; Thou counterfeit'st most lively. Pain. 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: Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I, You take much pains to mend. Both. To make it known to us. Tim. 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 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 dis semble, 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. Poct. Nor I. Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, 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 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: Out, rascal dogs! [Exit, beating and driving them out. 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! Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!-Speak, and be hang'd: For each true word, a blister! and each false 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 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, Ever to read them thine. Tim. You witch me in it; Surprize me to the very brink of tears: Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes, 1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens (thine, and ours) to take Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 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, Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; 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, And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still; 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. |