Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men ; I never had honest man about me, I; All I kept were knaves to serve in meat to villains. Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, Is 't not a usuring kindness as rich men deal gifts, Flav. No, my most worthy master; in whose breast You should have fear'd false times, when you did feast: Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, Tim. Had I a steward So true, so just, and now so comfortable? Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise; For any benefit that points to me, For this one wish,-that you had power and wealth Tim. Look thee, 't is so.-Thou singly honest man, O! let me stay, ACT V. SCENE I.-The Same. Before TIMON'S Cave. 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 Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far that makes it. where he abides. Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is 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 purses with what we' 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. Enter TIMON, behind, from his Cave. 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 : When the day serves, before black-cover'd night, Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the foam; o' the time it opens the eyes of expectation: perform- Settlest admired reverence in a slave: ance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the To thee be worship; and thy saints for aye plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying 'Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 1 grunt'st: in folio. Southern made the change. 2 Not in f. e. 3 Exeunt severally: in f. e 4 purposes in f. e. 5 they in f. e. Fit I meet them. Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! [Advancing. But where one villain is, then him abandon.— Our late noble master. Having often of your open bounty tasted, Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence 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. Ay, you are honest men. Tim. 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 can we 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 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, 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. To make it known to us. Beseech your honour, You'll take it ill. Will you, indeed? Tim. Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. 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. [Exit, beating them out. What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, Ever to read them thine. Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draught, Tim. You witch me in it : Surprise me to the very brink of tears : Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes, And I'll be weep 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, Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name Live with authority:-so, soon we shall drive back Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild; Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up His country's peace. 2 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning sword! And strain what other means is left unto us Against the walls of Athens. 1 Sen. Therefore, Timon,— Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus,— That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens, Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war, It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Walls of Athens. Enter two Senators, and a Messenger. 1 Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files Then, let him know,--and tell him, Timon speaks it, Present approach. I cannot choose but tell him,-that I care not. And let him take 't at worst; for their knives care not, Flav. So I leave you Stay not all 's 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. That's well spoke. 1 Sen. 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, and other incident throes 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. Come not to me again; but say to Athens, [Exit TIMON. 1 Sen. His discontents are unremovably coupled to nature. 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead. Let us return, 2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend, And made us speak like friends: this man was riding With letters of entreaty, which imported His fellowship i' the cause against your city, Enter Senators from TIMON. 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 choke the air with dust. In, and prepare : Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—The Woods. TIMON's Cave, and a Tomb-stone seen. Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON. Sold. By all description this should be the place. Who's here ? speak, ho!-No answer?What is this? Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span: Some beast rear'd' 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 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 V.-Before the Walls of Athens. Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES, and Forces. Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious town Our terrible approach. [A Parley sounded. Enter Senators, on the Walls. 1 Sen. 2 Sen. So did we woo Transformed Timon to our city's love, By humble message, and by promis'd means: We were not all unkind, nor all deserve The common stroke of war. 1 emboss'd: in f. e. 2 Dire. 3 read in folio. Theobald made the change. SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome: afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi. SCENE I.-Rome. A Street. ACT I. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a body of Citizens. Flav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home. Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art thou? Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule ? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow? 2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with all. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather have gone upon my handywork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? And do you now put on your best attire ? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen; and for this fault You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. Flav. 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