Act V
Scene I
The woods. Before Timon’s cave.
| Enter Poet and Painter; Timon watching them from his cave. | |
| Painter | 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’s so full of gold? |
| Painter | Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise 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. |
| Painter | 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 travail for, if it be a just true report that goes of his having. |
| Poet | What have you now to present unto him? |
| Painter | 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. |
| Painter | Good as the best. Promising is the very air o’ the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: 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 courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it. Timon comes from his cave, behind. |
| Timon | Aside. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself. |
| Poet | I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency. |
| Timon | Aside. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee. |
| Poet |
Nay, let’s seek him:
|
| Painter |
True;
|
| Timon |
Aside. I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold,
|
| Poet | Hail, worthy Timon! |
| Painter | Our late noble master! |
| Timon | Have I once lived to see two honest men? |
| Poet |
Sir,
|
| Timon |
Let it go naked, men may see’t the better:
|
| Painter |
He and myself
|
| 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?
|
| Both | What we can do, we’ll do, to do you service. |
| Timon |
Ye’re honest men: ye’ve heard that I have gold;
|
| Painter |
So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
|
| Timon |
Good honest men! Thou draw’st a counterfeit
|
| Painter | So, so, my lord. |
| Timon |
E’en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,
|
| Both |
Beseech your honour
|
| 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,
|
| Both | Do we, my lord? |
| Timon |
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
|
| Painter | I know none such, my lord. |
| Poet | Nor I. |
| Timon |
Look you, I love you well; I’ll give you gold,
|
| Both | Name them, my lord, let’s know them. |
| Timon |
You that way and you this, but two in company;
|
| Enter Flavius and two Senators. | |
| Flavius |
It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;
|
| First Senator |
Bring us to his cave:
|
| Second Senator |
At all times alike
|
| Flavius |
Here is his cave.
|
| Timon comes from his cave. | |
| Timon |
Thou sun, that comfort’st, burn! Speak, and be hang’d:
|
| 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,
|
| First Senator |
O, forget
|
| Second Senator |
They confess
|
| Timon |
You witch me in it;
|
| First Senator |
Therefore, so please thee to return with us
|
| Second Senator |
And shakes his threatening sword
|
| First Senator | Therefore, Timon— |
| Timon |
Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:
|
| Flavius | Stay not, all’s in vain. |
| Timon |
Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
|
| First Senator | We speak in vain. |
| Timon |
But yet I love my country, and am not
|
| First Senator | That’s well spoke. |
| Timon | Commend me to my loving countrymen— |
| First Senator | These words become your lips as they pass thorough them. |
| Second Senator |
And enter in our ears like great triumphers
|
| Timon |
Commend me to them,
|
| First Senator | I like this well; he will return again. |
| Timon |
I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
|
| Flavius | Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him. |
| Timon |
Come not to me again: but say to Athens,
|
| First Senator |
His discontents are unremoveably
|
| Second Senator |
Our hope in him is dead: let us return,
|
| First Senator | It requires swift foot. Exeunt. |
Scene II
Before the walls of Athens.
| Enter two Senators and a Messenger. | |
| First Senator |
Thou hast painfully discover’d: are his files
|
| Messenger |
I have spoke the least:
|
| Second Senator | We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. |
| Messenger |
I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;
|
| First Senator | Here come our brothers. |
| Enter the Senators from Timon. | |
| Third Senator |
No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.
|
Scene III
The woods. Timon’s cave, and a rude tomb seen.
| Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon. | |
| Soldier |
By all description this should be the place.
|
Scene IV
Before the walls of Athens.
| Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers. | |
| Alcibiades |
Sound to this coward and lascivious town
|
| Enter Senators on the walls. | |
|
Till now you have gone on and fill’d the time
|
|
| First Senator |
Noble and young,
|
| Second Senator |
So did we woo
|
| First Senator |
These walls of ours
|
| Second Senator |
Nor are they living
|
| First Senator |
All have not offended;
|
| Second Senator |
What thou wilt,
|
| First Senator |
Set but thy foot
|
| Second Senator |
Throw thy glove,
|
| Alcibiades |
Then there’s my glove;
|
| Both | ’Tis most nobly spoken. |
| Alcibiades | Descend, and keep your words. The Senators descend, and open the gates. |
| Enter Soldier. | |
| Soldier |
My noble general, Timon is dead;
|
| Alcibiades |
Reads the epitaph. “Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
|