You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth, More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; Do villany, db, since you profess to do 't, power Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats; All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, Break open shops; for nothing can you steal, But thieves do lose it: Steal not less, for this I give you; and gold confound you howsoever! [TIMON retires to his Cave. 3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it. Amen. 1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. 2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt Thieves. Enter FLAVIUS. Flav. O you gods! Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? O monument Desperate want made! What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, Tim. Away! what art thou? Flav. Have you forgot me, sir? Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men ; Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee. Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man Then Flav. The gods are witness, Ne'er 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 thon art a woman, and disclaim'st Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give, But thorough 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, To 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 mild. Let me behold Thy face. Surely this man was born of wo man. Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, One honest man,-mistake me not, but one; Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; Thou might'st have sooner got another service: If 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 show, heaven knows, is merely 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 yourself. 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: show charity to none; them, Debts wither them: Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so farewell, and thrive. Flav. And comfort you, my master. Tim. O, let me stay, 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. The same. 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 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, 'tis 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 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 the day serves before black-corner'd night, [gold, Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's That he is worship'd in a baser temple, Than where swine feed! 'Tis 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 do meet them. [Advancing. Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! Having often of your open bounty tasted, Whose starlike nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 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. |