Scene 2
SCENE, a publick Street.
Enter Lucius, with three strangers.
Luc.
Who, the lord Timon? he is my very good
friend, and an honourable gentleman.
1 Stran.
We know him for no less, tho' we are but
strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord,
and which I hear from common rumours, now lord Timon's
happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from
him.
Luc.
Fye, no, do not believe it: he cannot want for
mony.
2 Stran.
But believe you this, my lord, that not long
ago one of his men was with the lord Lucullus, to borrow
fifty talents, nay, urg'd extremely for't, and shewed what
necessity belong'd to't, and yet was deny'd.
Luc.
How?
2 Stran.
I tell you, deny'd, my lord.
Luc.
What a strange case was that? now, before the
Gods, I am asham'd on't. Deny'd that honourable man?
there was very little honour shew'd in that. For my own
part, I must needs confess, I have received some small
kindnesses from him, as mony, plate, jewels, and such
-- 254 --
like trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet had he mistook
him, and sent him to me, I should ne'er have deny'd his
occasion so many talents.
Enter Servilius.
Ser.
See, by good hap, yonder's my lord, I have sweat
to see his Honour.—My honour'd lord—
[To Lucius.
Luc.
Servilius! you are kindly met, Sir. Fare thee
well, commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my
very exquisite friend.
Ser.
May it please your Honour, my lord hath sent—
Luc.
Ha! What hath he sent? I am so much endear'd
to that lord; he's ever sending: how shall I thank him,
think'st thou? and what has he sent now?
Ser.
H'as only sent his present occasion now, my lord;
requesting your lordship to supply his instant use, with
fifty talents.
Luc.
I know, his lordship is but merry with me;
He cannot want fifty five hundred talents.
Ser.
But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
If his occasion were not virtuous,
I should not urge it half so faithfully.
Luc.
Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
Ser.
Upon my soul, 'tis true, Sir.
Luc.
What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish my self
against such a good time, when I might ha' shewn my self
honourable? how unluckily it hapned, that I should purchase
the day before for a little(17) note
dirt, and undo a
great deal of honour? Servilius, now before the gods, I
-- 255 --
am not able to do—(the more beast, I say)—I
was sending to use lord Timon my self, these gentlemen
can witness; but I would not, for the wealth of Athens,
I had don't now. Commend me bountifully to his good
lordship, and, I hope, his Honour will conceive the fairest
of me, because I have no power to be kind. And tell
him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions,
that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman.
Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use my
own words to him?
Ser.
Yes, Sir, I shall.
[Exit Servilius.
Luc.
I'll look ye out a good turn, Servilius—
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed;
And he, that's once deny'd, will hardly speed.
[Exit.
1 Stran.
Do you observe this, Hostilius?
2 Stran.
Ay, too well.
1 Stran.
Why, this is the world's soul;
Of the same piece is every flatterer's spirit:(18) note
Who can call him his friend,
That dips in the same dish? for, in my knowing,
Timon has been to this lord as a father,
And kept his credit with his bounteous purse:
Supported his estate; nay, Timon's mony
Has paid his men their wages. He ne'er drinks,
But Timon's Silver treads upon his lip;
And yet, oh, see the monstrousness of man,
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!
-- 256 --
He does deny him (in respect of his)
What charitable men afford to beggars.
3 Stran.
Religion groans at it.
1 Stran.
For mine own part,
I never tasted Timon in my life;
Nor any of his bounties came o'er me,
To mark me for his friend. Yet, I protest,
For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue,
And honourable carriage,
Had his necessity made use of me,
I would have put my wealth into donation,
And the best half should have return'd to him,
So much I love his heart: but I perceive,
Men must learn now with pity to dispence,
For policy sits above conscience.
[Exeunt.
Enter a third Servant with Sempronius.
Sem.
Must he needs trouble me in't? 'bove all others?—
He might have tried lord Lucius, or Lucullus,
And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
Whom he redeem'd from prison: All these three
Owe their estates unto him.
Ser.
Oh, my lord,
They've all been touch'd, and all are found base metal;
For they have all deny'd him.
Sem.
How? deny'd him?
Ventidius and Lucullus both deny'd him?
And does he send to me? three! hum—
It shews but little love or judgment in him.
Must I be his last refuge? his friends, like physicians,(19) note
Thriv'd, give him over? must I take the cure
-- 257 --
On me? h'as much disgrac'd me in't; I'm angry.
He might have known my Place; I see no sense for't,
But his occasions might have wooed me first:
For, in my conscience, I was the first man
That e'er received gift from him.
And does he think so backwardly of me,
That I'll requite it last? no:
So it may prove an argument of laughter
To th' rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a fool:
I'd rather than the worth of thrice the sum,
H'ad sent to me first, but for my mind's sake:
I'd such a courage to have done him good.
But now return,
And with their faint Reply this Answer join;
Who bates mine honour, shall not know my coin.
[Exit.
Ser.
Excellent! your lordship's a goodly villain. The
devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick;
he cross'd himself by't; and I cannot think, but in the
end the villanies of man will fet him clear. How fairly
this lord strives to appear foul? takes virtuous copies to
be wicked: like those that under hot, ardent, zeal would
set whole Realms on fire. Of such a nature is his politick
love.
This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled,
Save the Gods only. Now his friends are dead;
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd
Now to guard sure their master.
And this is all a liberal course allows;
Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house.
[Exit.
-- 258 --
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
