Tim. You'll take it ill. Both. Most thankfully, my lord. 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 made-up villain*. Pain. I know none such, my lord. Poet. Nor I. Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you Rid me these villains from your companies : 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. [To the Painter. Come not near him.-If thou would'st 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 done work for me, there's payment: Hence! You are an alchymist, make gold of that : SCENE II. The same. 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 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. For thy best use and wearing. 2 Sen. They confess, Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross : A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; Ever to read them thine. Tim. Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes, 1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us, Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 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, * With one united voice of affection. Licensed, uncontrolled. + Confession. And take our goodly aged men by the beards, 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, While you have throats to answer: for myself, The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you Flav. Stay not, all's in vain. Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness 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 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, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain * A clasp knife. tie. The gods who are the authors of the prosperity of mankind. He means the disease of life begins to promise me a period. § Report, rumour. In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them : I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. Tim. Come not to me again: but say to Athens, 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us |