Debts wither them to nothing: Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods!

And so, farewell, and thrive.

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

TIM. If thou hat'st curses,

Stay not; fly, whilst thou art bless'd and free;

Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

[Exeunt severally.

ACT V.

SCENE I-Before Timon's Cave.

Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON behind, unseen.

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; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor straggling 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, 't is not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel 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' the 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.

TIM. Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.

POET. I am thinking

What I shall say I have provided for him:
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;

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 worshipp'd in a baser temple

Than where swine feed!

'T is thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'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.

[Advancing.

Our late noble master.

TIм. 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,

VOL. VI.

L

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'm 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 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're 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
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, 't is not monstrous in you; neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.

BOTH. Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIM. There's never a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you.

Вотн.

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 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
Each man apart, all single and alone,

Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

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 payment: Hence!

You are an alchymist, make gold of that:

Out, rascal dogs!

[Exit, beating and driving them out.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter FLAVIUS, and Two Senators.

FLAV. It is 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,

Men are not still the same: 'T was 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 caut'rising 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.

What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.

The senators, with one consent of love,

Entreat 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:
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 send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even such heaps and suins 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.