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, Debts wither them to nothing: Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! Flav. And comfort you, my master. Tim. 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. Enter Poet and Painter1; 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? 70 i. e. away from human habitation. The poet and painter were within view when Apemantus parted from Timon; they must therefore be supposed to have been wandering about the woods in search of Timon's cave, and to have heard in the interim the particulars of Timon's bounty to the thieves and the steward. But (as Malone observes) Shakspeare was not attentive to these minute particulars, and if he and the audience knew these circumstances, he would not scruple to attribute the knowledge to persons who perhaps had not yet an opportunity of acquiring it.' 1 Pain. 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. 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 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 Tim. 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 personating3 of himself: a satire against the softness of prosperity; The doing of that we have said we would do. Thus in Hamlet :- 3 As he in his peculiar act and force May give his saying deed!' Personating for representing simply. The subject of this projected satire was Timon's case, not his person. : with a discovery of the infinite flatteries, that follow youth and opulency. Tim. 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. When the day serves, before black-corner'd night*, Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, That he is worship'd in a baser temple, Than where swine feed! 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the foam; Settlest admired reverence in a slave: To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 'Fit I do meet them. Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! Pain. [Advancing. Our late noble master. Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men? Poet. Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, 4 Black-corner'd night.' Many conjectures have been offered about this passage, which appears to me a corruption of the text. Some have proposed to read black-coned, alluding to the conical form of the earth's shadow; others black-crown'd, and black-cover'd. It appears to me that it should be black-curtain'd. We have 'the blanket of the dark' in Macbeth,' Night's black mantle' in the Third Part of King Henry VI. and the First Part of the same drama : I cannot think with Steevens that Night as obscure as a dark corner' is meant. Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, Whose thankless natures-O abhorred spirits! Not all the whips of heaven are large enoughWhat! to you! Whose starlike nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words. Tim. 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. Pain. He, and myself, Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Tim. Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service. Tim. Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. Tim. You are honest men: You have heard that I have gold: I am sure you have: speak truth; you are honest men. Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore Came not my friend, nor I. Tim. Good honest men:-Thou draw'st a coun-terfeit 5 Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best; Pain. So, so, my lord. Tim. Even so, sir, as I say :-And, for thy fiction, [To the Poet. Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth, 5 It should be remembered that a portrait was called a counterfeit. That thou art even natural in thine art. But, for all this, my honest natur'd friends, Both. To make it known to us. Tim. Beseech your honour, You'll take it ill. Will you, indeed? Both. Most thankfully, my lord. Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. Both. Do we, my lord? Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dis semble, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd, That he's a made-up villain o. Pain. I know none such, my lord. Poet. Nor I. Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, Rid me these villains from your companies: Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draught", Confound them by some course, and come to me, I'll give 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 apart, all single and alone, Yet an arch villain keeps him company 3. 6 i. e. a complete, a finished villain. 7 i. e. a jakes. 8 The plain and simple meaning of this is where each of you is, a villain must be in his company, because you are both of you arch villains,' therefore a villain goes with you everywhere. Thus in Promos and Cassandra, 1578, Go, and a knave with thee.' |