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Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;
For by oppressing and betraying me
Thou mightst have sooner got another service;
For many so arrive at second masters
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?
FLAVIUS. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late!
You should have fear'd false times when you did feast:
Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living; and believe it,
My most honour'd lord,
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.
TIMON. 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,
But thus condition'd; thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs
What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing. Be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so, farewell and thrive.
FLAVIUS. O, let me stay
And comfort you, my master.
TIMON. If thou hat'st curses,
Stay not; fly whilst thou art blest and free.
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.
Exeunt severally
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ACT V. SCENE I.
The woods. Before TIMON's cave
Enter POET and PAINTER
PAINTER. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he
abides.
POET. 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 enrich'd 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 suppos'd 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 just and 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' th' 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.
Enter TIMON from his cave
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;
Then do we sin against our own estate
When we may profit meet and come too late.
PAINTER. True;