Timon of Athens Part 12

Grant I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do!

Has caught me in his eye; I will present My honest grief unto him, and as my lord Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

TIMON. Away! What art thou?

FLAVIUS. Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; Then, if thou grant'st th'art a man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS. An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON. Then I know thee not.

I never had honest man about me, I.

All I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS. The G.o.ds are witness, Nev'r did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON. What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee Because thou art a woman and disclaim'st Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give But thorough l.u.s.t and laughter. Pity's sleeping.

Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

FLAVIUS. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, T' accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON. 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 woman.

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, You perpetual-sober G.o.ds! I do proclaim One honest man- mistake me not, but one; No more, I pray- and he's a steward.

How fain would I have hated all mankind!

And thou redeem'st thyself. But all, save thee, I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; For by oppressing and betraying me Thou mightst have sooner got another service; For many so arrive at second masters Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, For I must ever doubt though ne'er so sure, Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, If not a usuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS. 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.

TIMON. Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man, Here, take. The G.o.ds, 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, But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow 'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing. Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods!

And so, farewell and thrive.

FLAVIUS. O, let me stay And comfort you, my master.

TIMON. If thou hat'st curses, Stay not; fly whilst thou art blest and free.

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

Exeunt severally

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ACT V. SCENE I.

The woods. Before TIMON's cave

Enter POET and PAINTER

PAINTER. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.

POET. to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he's so full of gold?

PAINTER. Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him. He likewise enrich'd poor straggling soldiers with great quant.i.ty. 'Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

POET. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends?

PAINTER. 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 suppos'd distress of his; it will show honestly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travail for, if it be just and true report that goes of his having.

POET. What have you now to present unto him?

PAINTER. 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.

PAINTER. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' th'

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.

Enter TIMON from his cave

TIMON. [Aside] 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.

TIMON. [Aside] 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.

PAINTER. True; When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.

Come.

TIMON. [Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a G.o.d's gold, That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple Than where swine feed!

'Tis thou that rig'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. [Advancing from his cave]

POET. Hail, worthy Timon!

PAINTER. Our late n.o.ble master!

TIMON. 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, Whose thankless natures- O abhorred spirits!- Not all the whips of heaven are large enough- What! to you, Whose star-like n.o.bleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingrat.i.tude With any size of words.

TIMON. 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.

PAINTER. He and myself Have travail'd in the great show'r of your gifts, And sweetly felt it.

TIMON. Ay, you are honest men.

PAINTER. We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON. 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.

TIMON. Y'are honest men. Y'have heard that I have gold; I am sure you have. Speak truth; y'are honest men.

PAINTER. So it is said, my n.o.ble lord; but therefore Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON. Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit Best in all Athens. Th'art indeed the best; Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

PAINTER. So, so, my lord.

TIMON. E'en so, sir, as I say. [To POET] 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, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I You take much pains to mend.

BOTH. Beseech your honour To make it known to us.

TIMON. You'll take it ill.

BOTH. Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON. Will you indeed?

BOTH. Doubt it not, worthy lord.

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

BOTH. Do we, my lord?

TIMON. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, Keep in your bosom; yet remain a.s.sur'd That he's a made-up villain.

PAINTER. I know not such, my lord.

POET. Nor I.

TIMON. 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.

TIMON. 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] If, where thou art, two villians shall not be, Come not near him. [To the POET] If thou wouldst not reside But where one villain is, then him abandon.- Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves.