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^{7 note}

For each true word, a blister! and each false
Be as a caut'rizing^{8 note}

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^{9 note}

2 Sen.
They confess,
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross:
Which now the publick body^{1 note}

Play the recanter,—feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall^{2 note}

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;
Surprize 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^{6 note}, 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^{7 note}
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,
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^{8 note},
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^{9 note}

Flav.
Stay not, all's in vain.

Tim.
Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness^{1 note}
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^{2 note}
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^{3 note}, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them^{4 note}:

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

2 Sen.
I like this well, he will return again.

Tim.
I have a tree^{5 note}

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;
Whom once a day^{7 note}

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
In our dear peril^{9 note}

1 Sen.
It requires swift foot. [Exeunt.

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