Tim. Even so, Sir, as I say. — And, for thy fiction, But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, Marry, 't is not monstrous in you; neither wish I, You take much pains to mend. Both. To make it known to us. Tim. Beseech your honour, You'll take it ill. Will you, indeed? Both. Most thankfully, my lord. Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. Tim. There's never a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you. Both. Tim. Do we, my lord? 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. Tim. Nor I. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draught, 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. [To the Painter. [To the Poet. Hence! pack! there's gold; ye came for gold, ye slaves: You are an alchymist, make gold of that. Out, rascal dogs! SCENE II. The Same. [Exit, beating them 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 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, Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! Enter TIMON. hang'd: Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! For each true word, a blister; and each false Worthy Timon, Speak, and be 1 Sen. 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, 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 And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render, Ever to read them thine. 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, 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, 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. Against the walls of Athens. 1 Sen. Tim. And shakes his threat'ning sword Therefore, Timon, 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, Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war, I cannot chose but tell him, that I care not, And let him take 't at worst; for their knives care not, But I do prize it at my love, before 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, 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. In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them. 2 Sen. I like this well; he will return again. Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting. Flav. Trouble him no farther; 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; Whom 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 men's works, and death their gain. Sun, hide thy beams: Timon hath done his reign. [Exit TIMON. 1 Sen. His discontents are unremovably coupled to nature. 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead. Let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us SCENE III. The Walls of Athens. Enter two Senators, and a Messenger. 1 Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files As full as thy report? Mess. I have spoke the least; Besides, his expedition promises [Exeunt. |