Flavius.
Oh, you gods!
Is yon despis'd and ruinous man, my lord?
Full of decay and failing? oh, monument,
And wonder of good deeds, evilly bestow'd!
What change of honour desp'rate want has made?

What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends?‡ ^note




H'as caught me in his eye, I will present
My honest grief to him; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master! Timon comes forward from his cave.§ ^note

Tim.
Away! what art thou?

Fla.
Have you forgot me, Sir?

Tim.
Why dost thou ask that? I have forgot all men.
Then, if thou grantest that thou art a man,
I have forgot thee.

Fla.
An honest servant—

Tim.
Then I know thee not:
I ne'er had honest men about me, all
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

Fla.
The gods are witness,
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief,
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.

Tim.
What! dost thou weep? come nearer, then I love thee,
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,
But or through lust, or laughter. Pity's sleeping;
Strange times, that cry with laughing, not with weeping!

Fla.
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
T' accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts,
To entertain me as your steward still.

Tim.
Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?

It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.—
Let me behold thy face: surely, this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my gen'ral and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual, sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man: mistake me not—but one:
No more, I pray; and he's a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,* ^note
I fell with curses.
Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou might'st have sooner got another's service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
An usuring kindness, as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?

Fla.
No, my most worthy master, (in whose breast
Doubt and suspect,† ^note alas, are plac'd too late,)
You should have fear'd false times, when you did feast;
That which I shew, heav'n knows, is merely love,
Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me by making rich yourself.

Tim.
Look thee, 'tis so; thou singly honest man,
Here, take: the gods out of my misery,
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy:
But thus condition'd; thou shalt build for men:
Hate all, curse all, shew charity to none;
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs,

What thou deny'st to men. Let prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em; be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so farewel, and thrive.

Fla.
O, let me stay, and comfort you, my master.

Tim.
If thou hat'st curses,
Stay not, but fly, whilst thou art blest and free;
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. [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 him? 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 soldiers with great quantity. 'Tis said, he gave his steward a mighty sum.

Poet.

Then this breaking of his, has been but a trial of his friends?

Pain.

Nothing else; you shall see him a palm in Athens, again, and flourish with the highest.

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.‡ ^note

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 simpler kind of people, the deed is quite out of use.§ ^note

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 satyr against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim.

Must 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 turn—
What a god's gold, that he is worshipped,
In baser temples than where swine do feed!
'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plow'st the wave.
Settlest admired rev'rence in a slave;
To thee the 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 master.

Tim.
Have I once liv'd to see two honest men?

Poet.
Sir, having often of your bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,* ^note










He, and myself,
Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.

Tim
Ay, you're honest men.

Pain.
We're hither come to offer you our service.

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.
Y're honest men; you've heard that I have gold;
I'm sure you have; speak truth, y're honest men.

Pain.
So it is said, my noble lord, but therefore
Came not my friend, nor I.

Tim.
Good honest man; 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,
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, not monstrous in you; neither wish I,
You take much pains to mend.

Both.
Beseech your honour
To make it known know to us.

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 cogg,† ^note see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, and feed him;
Keep in your bosom, yet, remain assur'd,
That he's a made-up villain.

Pain.
I know none such, my lord.

Both.
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 wouldst 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 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.

Fla.
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 th' 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.

Fla.
Here is his cave:
Peace and content be here, lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to friends, th' Athenians,

By two of their most rev'rend senate, greet thee;
Speak to them, noble Timon. Enter Timon out of his cave.

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

1 Sen.
Worthy 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.
Oh! 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, gross;
Which now the public 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 sends forth us to make their sorrowed tender,
Together with a recompence more fruitful,
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, ev'n 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.‡ ^note

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, and thy good name
Live with authority: soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.

2 Sen.
And shakes his threatning sword
Against the walls of Athens.

1 Sen.
Therefore, Timon—

Tim.
Well, Sir, I will; therefore I will, Sir; thus—
If Alcibiades kill my countymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. If he sack fair Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by th' 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 chuse 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 th' 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 prosp'rous gods,
As thieves to keepers.

Fla.
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† ^note bruite 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 thro' them.

2 Sen.
And enter in our ears, like great triumphers,
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§ ^note vessel doth sustain,
In life's uncertain voyage, I will do
Some kindness to them, teach them to prevent
Wild Alcibiades's 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 Athen, in the sequence* ^note 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.

Fla.
Vex 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† ^note

1 Sen.
His discontents are unremoveably coupled to his nature.

2 Sen.
Our hope in him is dead; let us return,
And strain what other means is left unto us,
In our dear‡ ^note peril.

1 Sen.
It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE, before the walls of Athens.§ ^note Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers.

Alc.
Sound to this coward and lascivious town,
Our terrible approach. [Sound a parley. The senators appear upon the walls.
'Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice. 'Till now myself, and such
As slept within the shadow of your power,
Have wander'd with our traverst arms, and breath'd
Our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
Cries, of itself, no more: now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,
And pursy insolence shall break his wind,
With fear and horrid flight.

1 Sen.
Noble and young,
When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause to fear;
We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitude, with loves
Above their quantity.

2 Sen.
So did we woo
Transformed Timon to our city's love,
By humble message, and by promis'd 'mends:
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common stroke of war.

1 Sen.
These walls of ours
Were not erected by their hands, from whom
You have receiv'd your griefs: nor are they such,
That these great tow'rs, trophies, and schools should fall,
For private faults in them.

2 Sen.
March on, oh noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spread;
By decimation and a tithed death,
If thy revenges hunger for that food
Which nature loaths, take thou the destin'd tenth:
And by the hazard of the spotted die,
Let die the spotted.

1 Sen.
Then, dear countryman,
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage;
Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin,
Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall,
With those that have offended; like a shepherd,
Approach the fold, and cull th' infected forth;
But kill not altogether,

2 Sen.
What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile,
Than hew to't with thy sword.

1 Sen.
Set but thy foot
Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope:
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
To say thou'lt enter friendly.

2 Sen.
Throw thy glove,
Or any token of thine honour else,
That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress,
And not as our confusion: all thy powers
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.

Alc.
Then there's my glove;
Descend, and open your uncharged ports;

Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own,
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof,
Fall, and no more; and to atone your fears,
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular justice, in your city's bounds;
But shall be remedied by publick laws,
At heaviest answer.

Both.
'Tis most nobly spoken.

Alc.
Descend, and keep your words. Enter a soldier.

Sol.
My noble general, Timon is dead;
Entomb'd upon the very hem o'th' sea;
And on the grave-stone this insculpture, which
With wax I brought away;

[Alcibiades reads the epitaph.]

Here lies a wretched coarse, of wretched soul bereft:
Seek not my name: a plague consume you caitiffs left!
Here lye I Timon, who all living men did hate,
Pass by, and curse thy fill, but stay not here thy gaite.
These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
Tho' thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
Scorn'dst our brains' flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard nature fall; yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep, for aye,
On thy low grave.—On: faults forgiven.—Dead
Is noble Timon, of whose memory
Hereafter more—Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword;
Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each
Prescribe to other.
Let our drums strike.— [Exeunt. Drums beat a march. ^note

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