William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (435 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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TIMON Thronged to?
APEMANTUS Ay.
TIMON
Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS Live, and love thy misery.
TIMON
Long live so, and so die. I am quit.
Enter the Banditti, thieves
 
APEMANTUS
More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
Exit
FIRST THIEF Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of gold and the falling-from of his friends drove him into this melancholy.
SECOND THIEF It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIRD THIEF Let us make the assay upon him. If he care not for’t, he will supply us easily. If he covetously reserve it, how shall ’s get it?
SECOND THIEF True, for he bears it not about him; ’tis hid.
FIRST THIEF Is not this he?
OTHER THIEVES Where?
SECOND THIEF ’Tis his description.
THIRD THIEF He, I know him.
ALL THIEVES (coming forward) Save thee, Timon.
TIMON Now, thieves.
ALL THIEVES
Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON Both, too, and women’s sons.
ALL THIEVES We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
TIMON
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.
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips.
The bounteous housewife nature on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?
FIRST THIEF
We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
As beasts and birds and fishes.
TIMON
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. (Giving gold) Rascal thieves,
Here’s gold. Go suck the subtle blood o‘th’ grape
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so scape hanging. Trust not the physician:
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob. Take wealth and lives together.
Do villainy; do, since you protest to do’t,
Like workmen. I’ll example you with thievery.
The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea. The moon’s an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears. The earth’s a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stol’n
From gen‘ral excrement. Each thing’s a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Has unchecked theft. Love not yourselves. Away,
Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go,
Break open shops; nothing can you steal
But thieves do lose it. Steal no less for this I give you,
And gold confound you howsoe’er. Amen.
THIRD THIEF He’s almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.
FIRST THIEF ’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.
SECOND THIEF I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.
FIRST THIEF Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
Exeunt Thieves
Enter Flavius to Timon
 
FLAVIUS O you gods!
Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord,
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed!
What an alteration of honour has desp’rate want made!
What viler thing upon the earth than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise,
When man was wished to love his enemies!
Grant I may ever love and rather woo
Those that would mischief me than those that do!
Timon sees him
 
He’s caught me in his eye. I will present
My honest grief unto him, and as my lord
Still serve him with my life.—My dearest master.
TIMON
Away! What art thou?
FLAVIUS Have you forgot me, sir?
TIMON
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Then if thou grant‘st thou’rt man, I have forgot thee.
FLAVIUS An honest poor servant of yours.
TIMON
Then I know thee not. I never had
Honest man about me; ay, all I kept were knaves,
To serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS The gods are witness,
Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
TIMON
What, dost thou weep? Come. nearer then; I love thee
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim’st
Flinty mankind whose eyes do never give
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity’s sleeping.
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with
weeping!
FLAVIUS
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
T’accept my grief,
⌈
He offers his money
⌉
 
and whilst this poor wealth lasts
To entertain me as your steward still.
TIMON Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
Let me behold thy face. Surely this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man—mistake me not, but one,
No more, I pray—and he’s a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem‘st thyself! But all save thee
I fell with curses.
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,
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 placed too late.
You should have feared 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 honoured 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,
⌈
He gives Flavius gold
⌉
 
Here, take. The gods, out of my misery,
Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,
But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men,
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
But let the famished 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
⌈
Timon into his cave, Flavius another way
⌉
5.1
Enter Poet and Painter
 
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 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.
⌈
Enter Timon from his cave, unobserved
⌉
 
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 judgement that makes it.
TIMON
(aside)
Excellent workman, thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.
POET (to
Painter)
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
(to Painter)
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-cornered night,
Find what thou want’st by free and offered fight.
Come.
TIMON (
aside
)
I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold,
That he is worshipped in a baser temple
Than where swine feed!
‘Tis thou that rigg’st the barque and plough’st the foam,
Settlest admired reverence in a slave.
To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye
Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey.
Fit I meet them.
He comes forward to 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 infiuence
To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk 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 seen and known.
PAINTER He and myself
Have travelled in the great show’r 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.
POET
and
PAINTER
What we can do we’ll do to do you service.
TIMON
You’re honest men. You’ve heard that I have gold,
I am sure you have. Speak truth; you’re honest men.
PAINTER
So it is said, my noble lord, but therefor
Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON
Good honest men. (To Painter) Thou draw‘st a
counterfeit
Best 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. (To Poet) And for thy fiction,
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
That 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 I
You take much pains to mend.

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