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
You have worke for me; there's payment, thence,
You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that:

Out Rascall dogges.

Enter Steward, and two Senators.

slaves.

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.

It is our part and promise to th'Athenians

To speake with Timon.

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 us to him
And chanc'd it as it may.

Stew.

Peace and content be heere.

Heere is his Cave:

Lord Timon, Timon,

Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th'Athenians

By two of their most reverend Senate greet thee:
Speake to them Noble Timon.

Enter Timon out of his Cave.

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.

Worthy Timon.

Exeunt.

Tim. Of none but such as you,

And you of Timon.

I The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon.

What we are sorry for our selves in thee:

The Senators, with one consent of love,

Intreate thee backe to Athens, who have thought
On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye

For thy best use and wearing.

2

They confesse

Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse ;
Which now the publike Body, which doth sildome
Play the re-canter, feeling in it selfe

A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall
Of it owne fall, restraining ayde to Timon,

And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,
Together, with a recompence more fruitfull
Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme,
I even such heapes and summes of Love and Wealth,
As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,

Ever to read them thine.

Tim.

You witch me in it;

Surprize me to the very brinke of teares ;
Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes,
And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators.
Therefore so please thee to returne with us,
And of our Athens, thine and ours to take
The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes,
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with Authoritie: so soone we shall drive backe
Of Alcibiades th'approaches wild,

Who like a Bore too savage, doth root up

Tim. Well sir, I will: therefore I will sir thus :

If Alcibiades kill my Countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That Timon cares not. But if he sacke faire Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by'th' Beards,
Giving our holy Virgins to the staine

Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre :
Then let him know, and tell him Timon speakes it,

In pitty of our aged, and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him that I care not,

And let him tak't at worst: For their Knives care not,

While you

have throats to answer.

For my selfe,

There's not a whittle, in th'unruly Campe,

But I do prize it at my love, before

The reverends Throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the prosperous Gods,

As Theeves to Keepers.

Stea.

Stay not, all's in vaine.

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph,

It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse

Of Health, and Living, now begins to mend.

And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still,
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his,

And last so long enough.

We speake in vaine,

Tim. But yet I love my Country, and am not

One that rejoyces in the common wracke,

As common bruite doth put it.

1.

That's well spoke.

Tim. Commend me to my loving Countreymen.

I These words become your lippes as they passe thorow them. 2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers

In their applauding gates.

Tim.
Commend me to them,
And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes,
Their feares of Hostile strokes, their Aches losses,
Their pangs of Love, with other incident throwes
That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine

In lifes uncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them,
Ile teach them to prevent wilde Alcibiades wrath.

1 I like this well, he will returne againe.

Tim. I have a Tree which growes heere in my Close, That mine owne use invites

And shortly must I fell it.

me to cut downe,

Tell my Friends,

Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,

From high to low throughout, that who so please
To stop Affliction, let them take his haste;
Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe,
And hang himselfe. I pray you do my greeting.
Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall
Finde him.

Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting Mansion
Upon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood,
Who once a day with his embossed Froth
The turbulent Surge shall cover; thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your Oracle:

Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end:
What is amisse, Plague and Infection mend.
Graves onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine;
Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his raigne.

Exit Timon.
I His discontents are unremoveably coupled to Nature.
2 Our hope in him is dead: let us returne,
And straine what other meanes is left unto us

In our deere perill.

I

It requires swift foot.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

I Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his Files
As full as thy report?

Mes.
I have spoke the least.
Besides his expedition promises present approach.

2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend, Whom though in generall part we were oppos'd,

Yet our old love made a particular force,

And made us speake like Friends. This man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timons Cave,

With Letters of intreaty, which imported

His Fellowship i'th'cause against your City,

In part for his sake mov'd.

Exeunt.

Enter the other Senators.

Heere come our Brothers.

I

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect,

The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull scouring
Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and prepare,
Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.

Exeunt.

Sol. By all description this should be the place.
Whose heere? Speake hoa. No answer? What is this?
Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his span,
Some Beast reade this: There do's not live a Man.
Dead sure, and this his Grave, what's on this Tomb,
I cannot read: the Charracter Ile take with wax,
Our Captaine hath in every Figure skill;
An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes:
Before proud Athens hee's set downe by this,
Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is.

Exit.