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Whose thankless natures abhorred spirits!
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough
What! to you!
Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.

Tim. 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.
Pain.

He, and myself, Have travell’d in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Tim.

Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service. Tim. 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. Tim. You are honest men: You have heard that

I have gold; I am sure, you have: speak truth: you are honest

men.
Puin. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore
Came not my friend, nor I.
Tim. Good honest men:--Thou draw'st a coun-

terfeito
Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best;
Thou counterfeit'sț most lively.
Pain.

So, so, my lord. Tim. Even so, sir, as I say: And, for thy fiction,

[To the Poet. Why, thy yerse swells with stuff so fine and smooth, Will you,

4 counterfeit -] A portrait was so called in our author's

time,

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.
Tim.

You'll take it ill.
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Tim.

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 dis-

semble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur’d,
That he's a made-up villain.”

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,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
I'll give you gold enough.

Both. Naine 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.

5

a made-up villain.) That is, a villain that adopts quali. ties and characters not properly belonging to him; a hypocrite; or a made-up villain may mean, a complete, a finished villain.

in a draught,] That is, in the jakes.

6

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Come not near him.-If thou would'st not reside

[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:

Hence!
You are an alchymist, make gold of that:-
Out, rascal dogs!

[Exit, beating and driving them out,

SCENE JI.

The same.

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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,
To speak with Timon.
2 Sen.

At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'Twas time, and griefs,
That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The foriner 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 speak to friends: The Athenians,
By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:
Speak to them, noble Timon.

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Enter TIMON.

7

Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!-Speak,

and be hang'd:
For each true worci, 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.
2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon,
Tim. I thank them; and would send thern 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,
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;
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,

9

8

7

with one consent of love,] With one united voice of affection.

sorrowed render,]. Render is confession. 9. Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;] The speaker means, a recompense that shall more than co:interpoise their offences, 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:
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.

1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens (thine, and ours,) to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with absolute power,' and thy good name
Live with authority :-so soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild;
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.
2 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 whittle” 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.

2 There's not 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 thwittell,

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