Act V. Scene I

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:
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-corner'd night,
Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON
[Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a
god's gold,
That he is worshipp'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 meet them.