and fashionable: performance is a kind of will, or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.

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: ^{6 note}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.

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:
Then do we sin against our own estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Pain.
True;
^{7 note}

Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim.
I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold,
That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple,
Than where swine feed!
'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plow'st the foam;
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!
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 open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,
Whose thankless natures—O abhorred spirits!
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough—
What! to you!
Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.

Tim.
^{8 note}Let it go naked, men may see't the better:
You, that are honest, by being what you are,
Make them best seen, and known.

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

Tim.
Ay, you are honest men.

Pain.
We are 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.
You are honest men: You have heard that I have gold;
I am sure, you have: speak truth: you are honest men.

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

Tim.
Good honest men:—Thou draw'st a counterfeit^{9 note}


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.
Beseech your honour
To make it known 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 cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd,
That he's a^{1 note} made-up villain.

Pain.
I know none such, my lord.

Poet.
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^{2 note} 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.—^{3 note}

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 is payment: Hence!
You are an alchymist, make gold of that:—
Out, rascal dogs! [Exit, beating and driving them out. SCENE III. 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!

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!—Speak, and be hang'd!
For each true word, a blister, and each false
Be as a cauterizing^{4 note} to the root o'the tongue,
Consuming it with speaking!

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,
Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.

2 Sen.
They confess,
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross:
^{5 note}
And now the publick body,—which doth seldom
Play the recanter,—feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
^{6 note}

And sends forth us, to make their sorrowed render^{8 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,
^{1 note}

Live with authority:—so soon shall we drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild;
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
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 take't at worst; for their knives care not,
While you have throats to answer: for myself,
There's not a whittle^{2 note} 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,
It will be seen to-morrow; ^{3 note}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 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.

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 fragil vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:—
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

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

Tim.
I have a tree^{4 note}, 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 Athens, ^{5 note}in the sequence 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.

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,
Which once a day with his embossed froth^{6 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
^{7 note}

1 Sen.
It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Walls of Athens. Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Sen.
Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files

As full as thy report?

Mes.
I have spoke the least:
Besides, his expedition promises
Present approach.

2 Sen.
We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.

Mes.
I met a courier* ^note, one mine ancient friend^{8 note}
;—
Who, though in general part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old love made a particular force,
And made us speak like friends:—this man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,
With letters of entreaty, which imported
His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
In part for his sake mov'd. Enter the other Senators.

1 Sen.
Here come our brothers.

3 Sen.
No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.—
The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
Doth choak the air with dust: In, and prepare;
Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Changes to the woods. Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon.

Sol.
By all description, this should be the place.
Who's here? speak, ho!—No answer?—What is this?
Timon is dead, who hath out-stretch'd his span:
^{9 note}

Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb?
I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax;
Our captain hath in every figure skill;
An ag'd interpreter, though young in days:
Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. [Exit. SCENE VI. Before the walls of Athens. 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 ^{1 note}traverst arms, and breath'd
Our sufferance vainly: Now ^{2 note}the time is flush,
^{3 note}
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 meer conceit,
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause to fear,
We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitudes with loves
^{4 note}Above their quantity.

2 Sen.
So did we woo^{5 note}

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 towers, trophies, and schools should fall
For private faults in them.

2 Sen.
Nor are they living,
Who were the motives that you first went out;
^{6 note}

1 Sen.
All have not offended;
For those that were, it is ^{7 note}not square, to take,
On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands,
Are not inherited. 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 the 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 ^{8 note}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,—^{9 note}
not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
But shall be remedy'd by your 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'the sea:

And, on his grave-stone, this insculpture; which
With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
Interpreteth for my poor ignorance.

[Alcibiades reads the epitaph.]

Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul berest:
Seek not my name: A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left^{1 note}!
Here lie I Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait.
These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
Though thou abhor'dst in us our human griefs,
Scorn'dst ^{2 note}

Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave.—On:—Faults forgiven. ^{4 note}

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