Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots; Within this mile break forth a hundred springs: water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft In limited professions. Rascal thieves, Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth, you More than rob take wealth and lives together; Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery : 7 Legal. 8 Compost, manure. All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, But thieves do lose it: Steal not less, for this [TIMON retires to his Cave. 3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it. 1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. 2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt Thieves. Enter FLAVIUS. Flav. O you gods! Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord? Desperate want made! 9 What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, Those that would mischief me, than those that do! My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord, Still serve him with life. my My dearest master! TIMON comes forward from his Cave. Tim. Away! what art thou? 9 How happily. Flav. Have you forgot me, sir? Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men ; Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt man, I have forgot thee. Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man 1; About me, Flav. Then The gods are witness, Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. Tim. What, dost thou weep?- Come nearer ; — then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaimʼst Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, To accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts, To entertain me as your steward still. Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now So comfortable? It almost turns My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.— Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man, -mistake me not, but one; Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise; Thou might'st have sooner got another service: Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, (For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,) Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, If not a usuring kindness; and as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one? Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late : Suspect still comes where an estate is least. Care of your food and living: and, believe it, For any benefit that points to me, Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange For this one wish, That you had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich yourself. Tim. Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man, Here take: the gods out of my misery Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy: What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them. And so, farewell, and thrive. O, let me stay, If thou hat'st Curses, stay not; fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd and free: Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. [Exeunt severally. 1 Away from human habitation. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Before Timon's Cave. Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON behind, unseen. Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides. Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold? Pain. Certain Alcibiades reports it; and he enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'Tis said, he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends. Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having. Poet. What have you now to present unto him? Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece. Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of an intent that's coming toward him. Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o'the time: it opens the eyes of expèctation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most 2 2 The doing of that we said we would do. |