(For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,)

Is not thy kindnefs fubtle, covetous,

5'An ufuring kindness, as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one?

Flav. No, my most worthy mafter, (in whose breast Doubt and fufpect, alas, are plac'd too late,)

You fhould have fear'd falfe times, when you did feaft s
Sufpect ftill comes when an eftate is leaft.

That which I fhew, heav'n knows, is meerly love,
Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
For any benefit that points to me

Either in hope, or prefent, I'd exchange it`
For this one wifh, that you had power and wealth
To requite me by making rich your felf.

Tim. Look thee, 'tis fo; thou fingly honeft man,
Here, take; the Gods out of my mifery

Have fent thee treafure. Go, live rich and happy :
But thus condition'd; thou fhalt build from men:

Hate all, curfe all, fhew charity to none,

But let the famifh'd flesh flide from the bone,

Ere thou relieve the beggar.

Give to dogs

What thou deny'ft to men. Let prifons fwallow 'em, Debts wither 'em; be men like blafted woods,

And may difeafes lick up their falfe bloods!

And fo farewel, and thrive.

Flav. O let me stay

And comfort you, my mafter!

Tim. If thou hat'ft curfes,

Stay not, but fly, whilft thou art bleft and free;
Ne'er fee thou man, and let me ne'er fee thee.

[Exeunt.

Pain. As I took note of the place, it can't be far

where he abides.

5 A

6 I'd exchange

Poct

Poet. What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold for true, that he's fo full of gold?

Pain. Certain. Alcibiades reports it: Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him; he likewife enrich'd poor ftragling foldiers with great quantity. 'Tis faid, he gave his fteward a mighty fum.

Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a tryal 7 of his friends?

Pain. Nothing elfe: you fhall fee him a palm in Abens again, and flourish with the higheft. Therefore 'tis not amifs we tender our loves to him in this fuppos'd diftrefs of his: it will fhew honeftly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a juft and true report that goes of his Having.

Poet. What have you now to prefent unto him?

Pain. Nothing at this time but my vifitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece.

Poet. I muft ferve him fo too, tell him of an intent that's coming toward him.

Pain. Good as the beft; Promifing 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 fimpler kind of people, the deed is quite out of ufe. To promife is moft courtly and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or teftament, which argues a great fickness in his judgment that makes it.

Re-enter Timon from his Cave, unseen, but overbearing him.

Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man fo bad as thy felf.

Poet. I am thinking what I fhall fay I have provided for him it must be a perfonating of himself; a fatyr against the foftnefs of profperity with a difcovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim. Muft thou needs ftand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? do fo, I have gold for thee.

7 for

E 3

Pain.

'Pain. Nay, let's feek him.

Then do we fin against our own eftate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.

9'Poet. True:

I

While the day ferves, before 'black-corneted night,
Find what thou want'ft, by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim. I'll meet you at the turn

What a God's gold, that he is worshipped
In bafer temples, than where fwine do feed?

'Tis thou that rigg'ft the bark, and plow'ft the foam, Settleft admired rev'rence in a flave;

To thee be worship, and thy faints for aye
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!

'Tis fit I meet them.

Poct. Hail! worthy Timon.

Pain. Our late noble master.

Tim. Have I once liv'd to fee two honeft men?
Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,
For whofe moft thanklefs natures (abhorr'd spirits!)`
Not all the whips of heav'n are large enough:
3/What! ev'n to you! Whofe ftar-like nobleness
Gave life and influence to their being! I'm 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:
You that are honeft, by being what you are,
Make them beft feen and known.

Pain. He, and my felf,

Have travell'd in

And fweetly felt it.

the fhower of your gifts,

Tim. Ay, you're honeft men.

Pain. We're hither come to offer you our service.

Tim.

8 Poet.

9 Paint.

1 black-corner'd ... old edit. Warb. emend.

2 Whofe thanklefs natures, oh abhorred fpirits!

3 What! to you! 4 their whole being! 5 the great shower

Tim. Moft honeft men! why, how fhall 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'ft moft lively.

Pain. So fo, my Lord.

Tim. E'en fo, Sir, as I fay

Why, thy verfe fwells with ftuff fo fine and fmooth,

That thou art even natural in thine art.

But for all this, my honeft-natur'd friends,

I muft 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, fee 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,

E 4

Con

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; "not two in company,
Each man apart, all fingle and alone;

Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

If where thou art, two villains fhall not be, [To the Painter.. Come not near him. If thou wouldst not refide

But where one villain is, then him abandon.

[To the Poet.

Hence, pack, there's gold, ye came for gold, ye flaves; You have work'd for me; there's your payment, hence! You are an alchymift, make gold of that:

[Exit beating and driving 'em out.

Out, rafcal dogs!

Enter Flavius and two Senators.

Flav. It is in vain that you would fpeak with Timon:
For he is fet fo 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 promife 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.

Flav. 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 reverend fenate greet thee;
Speak to them, noble Timon.

6 but

Enter