Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted, Whofe ftar-like nobleness gave life and influence Tim. Let it go naked, men may fee't the better: (30) Pain. He, and myself, Have travell'd in the great fhower of your gifts, 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, Both. Befeech your Honour 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, Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them. company : Each man apart, all fingle and alone, but two in [To the Painter. If thou wouldst not refide [To the Poet. Come not near him. ; 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, 1 Sen. Bring us to his Cave. It is our part and promise to th' Athenians 2 Sen. At all times alike Men are not still the fame; 'twas time and griefs The former man may make him; bring us to him, Fla. Here is his Cave: Peace and Content be here, lord Timon! 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: Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought For For thy beft use and wearing. 2 Sen. They confess Tow'rd thee forgetfulness, too general, grofs; A lack of Timon's aid, hath fenfe withal Than their offence can weigh down by the dram 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, 1 Sen. Therefore so please thee to return with us, Who, like a boar too favage, doth root up 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; 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, The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you Fla. Stay not, all's in vain. Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, 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, Some kindness to them, teach them to prevent 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, From high to low throughout, that whofo please Fla. |