Timon of Athens — Act 5, Scene 1 · Shakespeare for Bharat

Painter

As I took note of the place, it cannot be far wherehe abides.

Poet

What's to be thought of him? does the rumour holdfor true, that he's so full of gold?

Painter

Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia andTimandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poorstraggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis saidhe gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

Poet

Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Painter

Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athensagain, and flourish with the highest. Therefore'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in thissupposed distress of his: it will show honestly inus; and is very likely to load our purposes withwhat they travail for, if it be a just true reportthat goes of his having.

Poet

What have you now to present unto him?

Painter

Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I willpromise him an excellent piece.

Poet

I must serve him so too, tell him of an intentthat's coming toward him.

Painter

Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' thetime: it opens the eyes of expectation:performance is ever the duller for his act; and,but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, thedeed of saying is quite out of use. To promise ismost courtly and fashionable: performance is a kindof will or testament which argues a great sicknessin his judgment that makes it.

TIMON

[Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint aman so bad as is thyself.

Poet

I am thinking what I shall say I have provided forhim: it must be a personating of himself; a satireagainst the softness of prosperity, with a discoveryof the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

TIMON

[Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain inthine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults inother men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet

Nay, let's seek him:Then do we sin against our own estate,When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Painter

True;When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON

[Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What agod's gold,That he is worshipp'd in a baser templeThan where swine feed!'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,Settlest admired reverence in a slave:To thee be worship! and thy saints for ayeBe crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey!Fit I meet them.

Poet

Hail, worthy Timon!

Painter

Our late noble master!

TIMON

Have I once lived to see two honest men?

Poet

Sir,Having often of your open bounty tasted,Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off,Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:What! to you,Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influenceTo their whole being! I am rapt and cannot coverThe monstrous bulk of this ingratitudeWith any size of words.

TIMON

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.

Painter

He and myselfHave travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,And sweetly felt it.

TIMON

Ay, you are honest men.

Painter

We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON

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.

TIMON

Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter

So it is said, my noble lord; but thereforeCame not my friend nor I.

TIMON

Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeitBest in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best;Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Painter

So, so, my lord.

TIMON

E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smoothThat thou art even natural in thine art.But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,I must needs say you have a little fault:Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish IYou take much pains to mend.

Both

Beseech your honourTo make it known to us.

TIMON

You'll take it ill.

Both

Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON

Will you, indeed?

Both

Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON

There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,That mightily deceives you.

Both

Do we, my lord?

TIMON

Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,Keep in your bosom: yet remain assuredThat he's a made-up villain.

Painter

I know none such, my lord.

Poet

Nor I.

TIMON

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

Name them, my lord, let's know them.

TIMON

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,Come not near him. If thou wouldst not resideBut where one villain is, then him abandon.Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:

TIMON

You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence!

TIMON

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.Out, rascal dogs!

FLAVIUS

It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;For he is set so only to himselfThat nothing but himself which looks like manIs friendly with him.

First Senator

Bring us to his cave:It is our part and promise to the AtheniansTo speak with Timon.

Second Senator

At all times alikeMen are not still the same: 'twas time and griefsThat framed 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.

FLAVIUS

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.

TIMON

Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, andbe hang'd:For each true word, a blister! and each falseBe as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,Consuming it with speaking!

First Senator

Worthy Timon,--

TIMON

Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.

First Senator

The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.

TIMON

I thank them; and would send them back the plague,Could I but catch it for them.

First Senator

O, forgetWhat we are sorry for ourselves in thee.The senators with one consent of loveEntreat thee back to Athens; who have thoughtOn special dignities, which vacant lieFor thy best use and wearing.

Second Senator

They confessToward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:Which now the public body, which doth seldomPlay the recanter, feeling in itselfA lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withalOf its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,Together with a recompense more fruitfulThan their offence can weigh down by the dram;Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealthAs shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirsAnd write in thee the figures of their love,Ever to read them thine.

TIMON

You witch me in it;Surprise 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.

First Senator

Therefore, so please thee to return with usAnd of our Athens, thine and ours, to takeThe captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,Allow'd with absolute power and thy good nameLive with authority: so soon we shall drive backOf Alcibiades the approaches wild,Who, like a boar too savage, doth root upHis country's peace.

Second Senator

And shakes his threatening swordAgainst the walls of Athens.

First Senator

Therefore, Timon,--

TIMON

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 be sack fair Athens,And take our goodly aged men by the beards,Giving our holy virgins to the stainOf 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 take't at worst; for their knives care not,While you have throats to answer: for myself,There's not a whittle in the unruly campBut I do prize it at my love beforeThe reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave youTo the protection of the prosperous gods,As thieves to keepers.

FLAVIUS

Stay not, all's in vain.

TIMON

Why, I was writing of my epitaph;it will be seen to-morrow: my long sicknessOf 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!

First Senator

We speak in vain.

TIMON

But yet I love my country, and am notOne that rejoices in the common wreck,As common bruit doth put it.

First Senator

That's well spoke.

TIMON

Commend me to my loving countrymen,--

First Senator

These words become your lips as they passthorough them.

Second Senator

And enter in our ears like great triumphersIn their applauding gates.

TIMON

Commend me to them,And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,Their pangs of love, with other incident throesThat nature's fragile vessel doth sustainIn life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

First Senator

I like this well; he will return again.

TIMON

I have a tree, which grows here in my close,That mine own use invites me to cut down,And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,Tell Athens, in the sequence of degreeFrom high to low throughout, that whoso pleaseTo stop affliction, let him take his haste,Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.

FLAVIUS

Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.

TIMON

Come not to me again: but say to Athens,Timon hath made his everlasting mansionUpon the beached verge of the salt flood;Who once a day with his embossed frothThe turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,And let my grave-stone be your oracle.Lips, let sour words go by and language end:What is amiss plague and infection mend!Graves only be men's works and death their gain!Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.

First Senator

His discontents are unremoveablyCoupled to nature.

Second Senator

Our hope in him is dead: let us return,And strain what other means is left unto usIn our dear peril.

First Senator

It requires swift foot.