Act V. Scene I - Page 2

Coming forward

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 influence
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 travail'd in the great shower 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.

Both
What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.

TIMON
Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;
I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter
So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON
Good honest men! 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. 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.

Both
Beseech your honour
To make it known to us.

TIMON
You'll take it ill.

Both
Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON
Will you, indeed?

Both
Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON
There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,
That mightily deceives you.

Both
Do we, my lord?

TIMON
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured
That he's a made-up villain.

Painter
I know none such, my lord.

Poet
Nor I.

TIMON
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.

TIMON