Flav.
Oh you Gods!
Is yond despis'd and ruinous Man my Lord?
Full of decay and failing? Oh Monument
And wonder of good Deeds, evilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of honour has desp'rate want made?
What vilder thing upon the Earth, than Friends,
Who can bring noblest Minds to basest Ends?
How rarely does it meet with this times guise,
When Man was wisht to love his Enemies:
Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do.
H'as caught me in his Eye, I will present my honest Grief
Unto him; and, as my Lord, still serve him with my Life.
My dearest Master.

Tim.
Away: What art thou?

Flav.
Have you forgot me, Sir?

Tim.
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all Men.
Then if thou grunt'st th' art a Man,
I have forgot thee.

Flav.
An honest poor Servant of yours.

Tim.
Then I know thee not:
I ne'er had honest Man about me, I, all
I kept were Knaves, to serve in meat to Villains.

Flav.
The Gods are witness,
Never 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 through Lust and Laughter. Pity's Sleeping;
Strange times that weep with laughing, not with weeping.

Flav.
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 general, and exceptless rashness
You 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 thy self: But all save thee,
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 Service.
For many so arrive at second Masters,
Upon their first Lord's Neck. But tell me true,
For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
Is't not a usuring Kindness, and as rich Men deal Gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?

Flav.
No, my most worthy Master, in whose Breast
Doubt and Suspect, alas, are plac'd too late,
You should have fear'd false times, when you did feast;
Suspect still comes where an Estate is least.
That which I shew, Heav'n knows, is meerly Love,
Duty, and Zeal, to your unmatched Mind,
Care of your Food and Living: And believe it,
My most honour'd Lord,
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 your self.

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 from Men:

Hate all, Curse all, shew Charity to none,
But let the famisht Flesh slide from the Bone,
E'er thou relieve the Beggar. Give to Dogs
What thou deny'st to Men. Let Prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing, be Men like blasted Woods
And may Diseases lick up their false Bloods,
And so farewel, and thrive.

Flav.
O let me stay and comfort you my Master.

Tim.
If thou hat'st Curses,
Stay not; Fly, whilst thou art blest and free:
Ne'er see thou Man, and let me ne'er see thee. [Exeunt. Enter Poet and Painter.

Pain.
As I took note of the place, it cannot 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: Phrinia and Timandra
Had Gold of him, he likewise enrich'd
Poor stragling Soldiers, with great quantity.
'Tis said, he gave unto his Steward
A mighty Sum.

Poet.
Then this breaking of his,
Has been but a try for his Friends.

Pain.
Nothing else:
You shall see him a Palm in Athens again,
And flourish with the highest.
Therefore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our Loves
To him, in this suppos'd distress of his:
It will shew honestly in us,
And is very likely to load our purposes
With what they travail for,
If it be a just and true Report, that goes
Of his having.

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.
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 of Saying is quite out of use.
To promise, is most Courtly and Fashionable;
Performance is a kind of Will or Testament,
Which argues a great Sickness in his Judgment
That makes it. Enter Timon from his Cave.

Tim.
Excellent Workman,
Thou canst not paint a Man so bad
As is thy self.

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.
Then do we Sin against our own Estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Pain.
True:
When the Day serves before black corner'd Night;
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 worshipt
In a baser Temple, than where Swine feed?
'Tis thou that rigg'st the Bark, and plow'st the Fome,
Setlest admired reverence in a Slave,
To thee be 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 faln off,
Whose thankless Natures, Oh 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.
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 my self,
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.
Y'are honest Men;
You've heard that I have Gold,
I am sure you have, speak truth, y'are 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 '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 never a one of you but trusts a Knave,
That mightily deceives you.

Both.
Do we, my Lord?

Tim.
Ay, and you hear him cogg, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep him in your Bosom, yet remain assur'd
That he's a 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 in the 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,
Come not near him. If thou would'st not reside
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 Payment, thence,
You are an Alchymist, make Gold of that:
Out Rascal Dogs. [Beating and driving 'em out. 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 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.

Flav.
Here is his Cave:
Peace and Content be here, Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to Friends: Th' Athenians
By two of their most reverend Senate greet thee;
Speak to them, Noble Timon. Enter Timon out of his Cave.

Tim.
Thou Sun that comfort burn,
Speak and be hang'd:
For each true Word a Blister, and each false
Be as a Cauterizing to the root o'th' Tongue.
Consuming it with speaking.

1 Sen.
Worthy Timon.

Tim.
Of none but such as you,
And you of Timon.

1 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 our selves in thee:
The Senators, with one consent of love,
Intreat thee back to Athens, who have thought
On special Dignities, which vacant lye
For thy best use and wearing.

2 Sen.
They confess
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general gross,
Which now the publick Body, which doth seldom
Play the Recanter, feeling in it self
A lack of Timon's Aid, hath Sence withal
Of it's own fall, restraining Aid to Timon,

And sends forth us to make their sorrowed render,
Together with a Recompence more fruitful
Than their Offence can weigh down by the Dram,
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,
Even 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,
Allowed with absolute Power, 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
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 Countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. But 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 take't at worst; for their Knives care not,
While you have Throats to answer. For my self,
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 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. 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 wrack,
As common Brute 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 into 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 throws
That Nature's fragile 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 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, in the frequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop Affliction, let him take his haste;
Come hither e'er my Tree hath felt the Ax,
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
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 Mens 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 dead peril.

1 Sen.
It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Sen.
Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his Files
As full as they 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, one mine ancient Friend,
Whom 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 Intreaty, which imported
His Fellowship i'th' 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. Enter a Soldier in the Woods, 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-stretcht his Span,
Some Beast read this; there does not live a Man.
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 aged Interpreter, tho' young in Days:

Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose Fall the mark of his Ambition is. [Exit

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