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That thou art even natural in thine art.—
Both. Beseech your honour,
To make it known to us.
Tim. You'll take it ill.
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Tim. Will you, indeed?
Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you.
Both. Do we, my lord?
Tim. 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.5
Pain. I know none such, my lord.
Poet. Nor I.
Tim. 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,6 Confound them by some course, 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, 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,
[To the Painter. Come not near him.—If thou would'st not reside
s -. a made-up villain.] That is, a villain that adopts qualities and characters not properly belonging to him; a hypocrite; or a made-up villain may mean, a complete, a finished villain.
4 —— in a draught,] That is, in thejakes.
[To the Poet. But where one villain is, then him abandon.— Hence! pack! there's gold, ye came for gold, ye
slaves: You have done work for me, there's payment:
[Exit, beating and driving 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,
1 Sen. At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'Twas time, and griefs,
Flav. Here is his cave.—
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! Look out, and speak to friends: The Athenians, By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee: Speak to them, noble Timon.
Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!—Speak, and be hang'd: For each true word, a blister! and each false Be as a caut'rizing to the root o'the tongue, Consuming it with speaking!
1 Sen. Worthy Timon,
Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
1 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.
1 Sen. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. The senators, with one consent of love,7 Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
2 Sen. They confess, Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross: Which now the publick body,—which doth seldom Play the recanter,—feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon;
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,8
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;9
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth,
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
.* with one consent of love,} With one united voice of affection.
8 sorrowed render,] Render is confession.
9 Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;] The speaker means, a recompense that shall more than counterpoise their of-r fences, though weighed with the most scrupulous exactness.
Ever to read them thine.
Tim. You witch me in it;
Surprize me to the very brink of tears:
1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us,
1 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning 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. But if he sack fair Athens, And take our goodly aged men by the beards, Giving our holy virgins to the stain Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; Then, let him know,—and tell him, Timon speaks it, In pity of our aged, and our youth, I cannot choose but tell him, that—I care not, And let him tak't at worst; for their knives care not, While you have throats to answer: for myself, There's not a whittle2 in the unruly camp, But I do prize it at my love, before The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
1 Allow'd with absolute power,] Allowed is licensed, privileged, uncontrolled.
. * There'snot a whittle,] A whittle is still in the midland counties the common name for a pocket clasp knife, such as children use. Chaucer speaks of a Sheffield thwittett."
To the protection of the prosperous gods,
Flav. Stay not, all's in vain.
Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness3 Of health, and living, now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still; Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough!
I Sen. We speak in vain.
Tim. But yet I love my country, and am not
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.
1 Sen. And enter in our ears, like great triumphers In their applauding gates.
Tim. Commend me to them;
And tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs,
2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again.
1 . My long sickness —] The disease of life begins to pro
mise me a period.
* bruit—] i. e. report, rumour.
* in the sequence of degree,] Methodically, from highest