Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fal'n off,
Whofe thankless natures, oh (abhorred spirits!)
Not all the whips of heav'n are large enough-
What! to you!
u!

Whofe ftar-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot
Cover the monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any fize of words.

Tim. Let it go naked, men may fee't the better: (30)
You that are honeft, by being what you are,
Make them beft feen and known.

Pain. He, and myself,

Have travell'd in the great fhower of your gifts,
And fweetly felt it.

Tim. Ay, you're honeft men.

Pain. We're hither come to offer you our fervice. Tim. Most honeft 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 fervice. Tim. Y' are honeft men; you've heard, that I have gold;

I'm fure, you have; fpeak truth, y' are honeft men. Pain. So it is faid, my noble lord, but therefore Came not my friend, nor I.

Tim. Good honeft man; thou draw'ft a counterfeit Beft in all Athens; thou'rt, indeed, the best;

'Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

I

(30) Let it go, naked Men may fee't the better ;] Thus has this Paffage been ftupidly pointed thro' all the Editions, as if naked Men could fee better than Men in their Cloaths. think verily, if there were any Room to credit the Experiment, fuch Editors ought to go naked for the Improvement of their Eye-fights. But, perhaps, they have as little Faith as Judgment in their own Readings. The Poet, in the preceding Speech haranguing on the Ingratitude of Timon's falfe Friends, fays, he cannot cover the Monftroufness of it with any Size of Words; to which Timon, as I have rectified the Pointing, very aptly replies;

Pain. So, fo, my lord.

Tim. E'en fo, Sir, as I fay- And for thy fiction, Why, thy verfe fwells with stuff fo fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art.

But for all this, my honeft-natur'd friends,
I must needs fay, you have a little fault;
Marry, not monftrous in you; neither wish I,
You take much pains to mend.

Both. Befeech your Honour
To make it known to us.
Tim. You'll take it ill.

Both. Moft thankfully, my lord.

Tim. Will you, indeed?

Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.

Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trufts a knave, That mightily deceives you.

Both. Do we, my lord?

Tim. Ay, and you hear him cogg, see him diffemble, Know his grofs Patchery, love him, and feed him ; Keep in your bofom, yet remain affur'd,

That he's a made-up villain.

Pain. I know none fuch, my lord..

Poet. Nor I.

Tim. Look you, I love you well, I'll give you gold, Rid me thefe villains from your companies;

Hang them, or ftab them, drown them in a draught,
Confound them by fome courfe, 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;

company :

Each man apart, all fingle and alone,
Yet an arch villain keeps him company.
If where thou art, two villains fhall not be,

but two in

[To the Painter.

If thou wouldst not refide

[To the Poet.

Come not near him.
But where one villain is, then him abandon.
Hence, pack, there's gold; ye came for gold, ye flaves
You have work for me; there's your payment, hence!

;

You

You are an Alchymift, make gold of that:

Out, rafcal dogs!

[Beating, and driving 'em out.

Enter Flavius and two Senators.

Fla. It is in vain that you would fpeak with Timon: For he is fet fo only to himself,

That nothing but himfelf, which looks like man,
Is friendly with him.

1 Sen. Bring us to his Cave.

It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
To fpeak with Timon.

2 Sen. At all times alike

Men are not still the fame; 'twas 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.

Fla. Here is his Cave:

Peace and Content be here, lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and fpeak to friends, th' Athenians
By two of their most rev'rend fenate greet thee;
Speak to them, noble Timon.

Enter Timon out of his Cave.

Tim. Thou Sun, that comfort'ft, burn

Speak, and be hang'd;

For each true word a blifter, and each falfe

Be cauterizing to the root o'th' tongue,

Confuming it with speaking!

1 Sen. Worthy Timon,

Tim. Of none but fuch as you, and you of Timon.

2 Sen. The fenators of Athens greet thee, Timon. Tim. I thank them. And would fend them back the plague,

Could I but catch it for them.

I Sen. O, forget

What we are forry for ourselves, in thee:
The Senators, with one confent of love,

Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie

For

For thy beft use and wearing.

2 Sen. They confess

Tow'rd thee forgetfulness, too general, grofs;
Which now the publick body, (which doth feldom
Play the recanter) feeling in it felf

A lack of Timon's aid, hath fenfe withal
Of its own Fall, reftraining aid to Timon;
And fends forth us to make their forrowed Tender,
Together with a recompence more fruitful

Than their offence can weigh down by the dram
Ay, ev'n fuch heaps and fums of love and wealth,
As fhall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs ;,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.

Tim. You witch me in it,

Surprize me to the very brink of tears:

Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy fenators

1 Sen. Therefore so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
The Captainfhip: thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with abfolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority: foon we fhall drive back
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,

Who, like a boar too favage, doth root up
His country's peace.

2 Sen. And shakes his threatning sword Against the walls of Athens.

1 Sen. Therefore, Timon

Tim. Well, Sir, I will; therefore I will, Sir; thus

If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That Timon cares not. If he fack fair Athens

And take our goodly aged men by th' beards,

Giving our holy virgins to the stain

Of contumelious, beaftly, mad-brain'd war;
Then let him know, and tell him, Timon speaks it;
In pity of our aged, and our youth,

1 cannot chufe but tell him, that I care rot.

And let him take't at worft; for their knives care not,

While you have throats to anfwer. For my felf,
There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp,
But I do prize it at my love, before

The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the profp'rous Gods,
As thieves to keepers.

Fla. Stay not, all's in vain.

Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen to morrow. My long fickness
Of health and living now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live ftill;
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his;

And last so long enough!

1 Sen. We speak in vain.

Tim. But yet I love my Country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wreck,

As common Bruite 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 pafs thro' 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 cafe them of their griefs,
Their fears of hoftile ftrokes, their aches, loffes,
Their pangs of love, with other incident Throes,
That nature's fragile veffel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will do

Some kindness to them, teach them to prevent
Wild Alcibiades' wrath.

2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again. Tim. I have a Tree, which grows here in my Close, That mine own ufe invites me to cut down,

And fhortly must I fell it. Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the frequence of degree,

From high to low throughout, that whofo please
To stop affliction, let him take his Hafte;
Come hither, ere my Tree hath felt the ax,
And hang himfelf-I pray you, do my Greeting.

Fla.