Tim. Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade,
And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts
Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable,
Although I know you'l sweare, terribly sweare
Into strong shudders, and to heauenly Agues
Th' immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes:
Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still.
And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you,
Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp,
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six months
Be quite contrary, And Thatch
Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead,
(Some that were hang'd) no matter:
Weare them, betray with them; Whore still,
Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face:
A pox of wrinkles
Both. Well, more Gold, what then?
Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold
Tim. Consumptions sowe
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes,
And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce,
That he may neuer more false Title pleade,
Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen,
That scold'st against the quality of flesh,
And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose,
Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foresee
Smels from the generall weale. Make curl'd pate Ruffians bald
And let the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the Warre
Deriue some paine from you. Plague all,
That your Actiuity may defeate and quell
The sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold.
Do you damne others, and let this damne you,
And ditches graue you all
Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous
Timon
Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen
you earnest
Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell
Timon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe
Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more
Alc. I neuer did thee harme
Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me
Alc. Call'st thou that harme?
Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away,
And take thy Beagles with thee
Alc. We but offend him, strike.
Exeunt.
Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse
Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou
Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brest
Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle
Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft,
Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew,
The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme,
With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen,
Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine:
Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate,
From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote:
Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe,
Let it no more bring out ingratefull man.
Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares,
Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward face
Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue
Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes:
Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas,
Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts
And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde,
That from it all Consideration slippes-
Enter Apemantus.
More man? Plague, plague
Ape. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them
Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee
Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected,
A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung
From change of future. Why this Spade? this place?
This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care?
Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft,
Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot
That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods,
By putting on the cunning of a Carper.
Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue
By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue
Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus:
Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom)
To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust
That thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe,
Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse
Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe
Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self
A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'st
That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine
Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees,
That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brooke
Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste
To cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures,
Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight
Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes,
To the conflicting Elements expos'd
Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee.
O thou shalt finde
Tim. A Foole of thee: depart
Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did
Tim. I hate thee worse
Ape. Why?
Tim. Thou flatter'st misery
Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe
Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out?
Ape. To vex thee
Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles.
Dost please thy selfe in't?
Ape. I
Tim. What, a Knaue too?
Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againe
Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery
Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before:
The one is filling still, neuer compleat:
The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse then the worst, Content.
Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable.
Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme
With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge.
Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded,
The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords,
To such as may the passiue drugges of it
Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self
In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth
In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd
The Icie precepts of respect, but followed
The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe,
Who had the world as my Confectionarie,
The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men,
At duty more then I could frame employment;
That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues
Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush
Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare,
For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this,
That neuer knew but better, is some burthen:
Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men?
They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen?
If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge)
Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe
To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee
Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,
If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men,
Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer
Ape. Art thou proud yet?
Tim. I, that I am not thee
Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall
Tim. I, that I am one now.
Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee,
I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone:
That the whole life of Athens were in this,
Thus would I eate it
Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast
Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe
Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by'th' lacke of thine
Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht;
If not, I would it were
Ape. What would'st thou haue to Athens?
Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt,
Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue
Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold
Tim. The best, and truest:
For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme
Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon?
Tim. Vnder that's aboue me.
Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?
Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather
where I eate it
Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind
Ape. Where would'st thou send it?
Tim. To sawce thy dishes
Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest,
but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy
Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much
Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art despis'd
for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it
Tim. On what I hate, I feed not
Ape. Do'st hate a Medler?
Tim. I, though it looke like thee
Ape. And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'st
haue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd'st thou
euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes!
Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk'st of, didst
thou euer know belou'd?
Ape. My selfe
Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes to
keepe a Dogge
Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest
compare to thy Flatterers?
Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things
themselues. What would'st thou do with the world Apemantus,
if it lay in thy power?
Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men
Tim. Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion
of men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts
Ape. I Timon
Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt
thee t' attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would
beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would
eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect
thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse:
If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee;
and still thou liu'dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If
thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee,
& oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert
thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound
thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury.
Wert thou a Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse:
wert thou a Horse, thou would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard:
wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the
Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy
life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence.
What Beast could'st thou bee, that were not subiect
to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already, that
seest not thy losse in transformation
Ape. If thou could'st please me
With speaking to me, thou might'st
Haue hit vpon it heere.
The Commonwealth of Athens, is become
A Forrest of Beasts
Tim. How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou art
out of the Citie
Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter:
The plague of Company light vpon thee:
I will feare to catch it, and giue way.
When I know not what else to do,
Ile see thee againe
Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee,
Thou shalt be welcome.
I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,
Then Apemantus
Ape. Thou art the Cap
Of all the Fooles aliue
Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough
To spit vpon
Ape. A plague on thee,
Thou art too bad to curse
Tim. All Villaines
That do stand by thee, are pure
Ape. There is no Leprosie,
But what thou speak'st
Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;
But I should infect my hands
Ape. I would my tongue
Could rot them off
Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge,
Choller does kill me,
That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee
Ape. Would thou would'st burst
Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall
lose a stone by thee
Ape. Beast
Tim. Slaue
Ape. Toad
Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.
I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought
But euen the meere necessities vpon't:
Then Timon presently prepare thy graue:
Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate
Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph,
That death in me, at others liues may laugh.
O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce
Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler
Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars,
Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated Snow
That lyes on Dians lap.
Thou visible God,
That souldrest close Impossibilities,
And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie Tongue
To euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts,
Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue
Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts
May haue the world in Empire
Ape. Would 'twere so,
But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly
Tim. Throng'd too?
Ape. I
Tim. Thy backe I prythee
Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery
Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit
Ape. Mo things like men,
Eate Timon, and abhorre then.
Exit Apeman[tus].
Enter the Bandetti.
1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore
Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meere
want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, droue
him into this Melancholly
2 It is nois'd
He hath a masse of Treasure
3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't,
he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how
shall's get it?
2 True: for he beares it not about him:
'Tis hid
1 Is not this hee?
All. Where?
2 'Tis his description
3 He? I know him
All. Saue thee Timon
Tim. Now Theeues
All. Soldiers, not Theeues
Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes
All. We are not Theeues, but men
That much do want
Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat:
Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes:
Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs:
The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps,
The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush,
Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want?
1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water,
As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes
Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes,
You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con,
That you are Theeues profest: that you worke not
In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft
In limited Professions. Rascall Theeues
Heere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th' Grape,
Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth,
And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian,
His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes
Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together,
Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo't.
Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery:
The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction
Robbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe,
And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne.
The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues
The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne
From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe.
The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power
Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away,
Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates,
All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go,
Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale
But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you,
And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen
3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswading
me to it
1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises
vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery
2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,
And giue ouer my Trade
1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so
miserable, but a man may be true.
Exit Theeues.
Enter the Steward to Timon.
Stew. Oh you Gods!
Is yon'd despis'd and ruinous man my Lord?
Full of decay and fayling? Oh Monument
And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of Honor has desp'rate want made?
What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends,
Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends.
How rarely does it meete with this times guise,
When man was wisht to loue his Enemies:
Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo
Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo.
Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefe
vnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life.
My deerest Master
Tim. Away: what art thou?
Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir?
Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men.
Then, if thou grunt'st, th'art a man.
I haue forgot thee
Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours
Tim. Then I know thee not:
I neuer had honest man about me, I all
I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines
Stew. The Gods are witnesse,
Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe
For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you
Tim. What, dost thou weepe?
Come neerer, then I loue thee
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue,
But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping:
Strange times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping
Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord,
T' accept my greefe, and whil'st this poore wealth lasts,
To entertaine me as your Steward still
Tim. Had I a Steward
So true, so iust, and now so comfortable?
It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde.
Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man
Was borne of woman.
Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse
You perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaime
One honest man: Mistake me not, but one:
No more I pray, and hee's a Steward.
How faine would I haue hated all mankinde,
And thou redeem'st thy selfe. But all saue thee,
I fell with Curses.
Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise:
For, by oppressing and betraying mee,
Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice:
For many so arriue at second Masters,
Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true,
(For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure)
Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,
If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts,
Expecting in returne twenty for one?
Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest
Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late:
You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast.
Suspect still comes, where an estate is least.
That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue,
Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde;
Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it,
My most Honour'd Lord,
For any benefit that points to mee,
Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich your selfe
Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man,
Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie
Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy,
But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men:
Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none,
But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone,
Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges
What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods
And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods,
And so farewell, and thriue
Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master
Tim. If thou hat'st Curses
Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free:
Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee.
Exit
Enter Poet, and Painter.
Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre
where he abides
Poet. What's to be thought of him?
Does the Rumor hold for true,
That hee's so full of Gold?
Painter. Certaine.
Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo
Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd
Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity.
'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward
A mighty summe
Poet. Then this breaking of his,
Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?
Painter. Nothing else:
You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe,
And flourish with the highest:
Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues
To him, in this suppos'd distresse of his:
It will shew honestly in vs,
And is very likely, to loade our purposes
With what they trauaile for,
If it be a iust and true report, that goes
Of his hauing
Poet. What haue you now
To present vnto him?
Painter. Nothing at this time
But my Visitation: onely I will promise him
An excellent Peece
Poet. I must serue him so too;
Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him
Painter. Good as the best.
Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th' Time;
It opens the eyes of Expectation.
Performance, is euer the duller for his acte,
And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people,
The deede of Saying is quite out of vse.
To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable;
Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament
Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement
That makes it.
Enter Timon from his Caue.
Timon. Excellent Workeman,
Thou canst not paint a man so badde
As is thy selfe
Poet. I am thinking
What I shall say I haue prouided for him:
It must be a personating of himselfe:
A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity,
With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries
That follow youth and opulencie
Timon. Must thou needes
Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke?
Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men?
Do so, I haue Gold for thee
Poet. Nay let's seeke him.
Then do we sinne against our owne estate,
When we may profit meete, and come too late
Painter. True:
When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night;
Finde what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light.
Come
Tim. Ile meete you at the turne:
What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt
In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede?
'Tis thou that rigg'st the Barke, and plow'st the Fome,
Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue,
To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye:
Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay.
Fit I meet them
Poet. Haile worthy Timon
Pain. Our late Noble Master
Timon. Haue I once liu'd
To see two honest men?
Poet. Sir:
Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off,
Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits)
Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough.
What, to you,
Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence
To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couet
The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude
With 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 seene, and knowne
Pain. He, and my selfe
Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts,
And sweetly felt it
Timon. I, you are honest man
Painter. We are hither come
To offer you our seruice
Timon. Most honest men:
Why how shall I requite you?
Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no?
Both. What we can do,
Wee'l do to do you seruice
Tim. Y'are honest men,
Y'haue heard that I haue Gold,
I am sure you haue, speake truth, y'are honest men
Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore
Came not my Friend, nor I
Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfet
Best in all Athens, th'art indeed the best,
Thou counterfet'st most liuely
Pain. So, so, my Lord
Tim. E'ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction,
Why thy Verse swels with stuffe so fine and smooth,
That thou art euen Naturall in thine Art.
But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends)
I must needs say you haue a little fault,
Marry 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much paines to mend
Both. Beseech your Honour
To make it knowne to vs
Tim. You'l take it ill
Both. Most thankefully, my Lord
Timon. Will you indeed?
Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord
Tim. There's neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue,
That mightily deceiues you
Both. Do we, my Lord?
Tim. I, and you heare him cogge,
See him dissemble,
Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him,
Keepe in your bosome, yet remaine assur'd
That he's a made-vp-Villaine
Pain. I know none such, my Lord
Poet. Nor I
Timon. Looke you,
I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold
Rid me these Villaines from your companies;
Hang them, or stab them, drowne them in a draught,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
Ile giue 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 a part, all single, and alone,
Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company:
If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be,
Come not neere him. If thou would'st not recide
But where one Villaine is, then him abandon.
Hence, packe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues:
You haue worke for me; there's payment, hence,
You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that:
Out Rascall dogges.
Exeunt.
Enter Steward, and two Senators.
Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon:
For he is set so onely to himselfe,
That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man,
Is friendly with him
1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue.
It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
To speake with Timon
2.Sen. At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'twas Time and Greefes
That fram'd him thus. Time with his fairer hand,
Offering the Fortunes of his former dayes,
The former man may make him: bring vs to him
And chanc'd it as it may
Stew. Heere is his Caue:
Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon,
Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th' Athenians
By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee:
Speake to them Noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his Caue.
Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne,
Speake and be hang'd:
For each true word, a blister, and each false
Be as a Cantherizing to the root o'th' Tongue,
Consuming it with speaking
1 Worthy Timon
Tim. Of none but such as you,
And you of Timon
1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon
Tim. I thanke them,
And would send them backe the plague,
Could I but catch it for them
1 O forget
What we are sorry for our selues in thee:
The Senators, with one consent of loue,
Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought
On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye
For thy best vse and wearing