Enter TIMON. Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!-Speak, and be hang'd; For each true word, a blister! and each false 1 Sen. Worthy Timon,Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. 2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon, Tim. I thank them; and would send them back the plague, Could I but catch it for them. 1 Sen. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. The senators, with one consent of love," For thy best use and wearing. 2 Sen. They confess, Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross: A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;ꞌ 7 affection. with one consent of love,] With one united voice of sorrowed render,] Render is confession. 9 Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;] The speaker means, a recompense that shall more than counterpoise their offences, though weighed with the most scrupulous exaetness. You witch me in it; Ever to read them thine. Tim. Surprize me to the very brink of tears: Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes, 1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us, Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 2 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning sword Against the walls of Athens. 1 Sen. Therefore, Timon, 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 sack fair Athens, Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; I cannot choose but tell him, that-I care not, The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you 1 Allow'd with absolute power,] Allowed is licensed, privileged, uncontrolled. * There's not a whittle,] A whittle is still in the midland counties the common name for a pocket clasp knife, such as children use. Chaucer speaks of a Sheffield thwittell. To the protection of the prosperous gods, Flao. Stay not, all's in vain. Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness 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! 1 Sen. We speak in vain. Tim. But yet I love my country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wreck, As common bruit* doth put it. 1 Sen. That's well spoke. Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen, 1 Sen. These words become your lips as they pass through them. 2 Sen. And enter in our ears, like great triúmphers In their applauding gates. Tim. Commend me to them; And tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them : I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. 3 My long sickness-] The disease of life begins to promise me a period. bruit-] i. e. report, rumour. in the sequence of degree,] Methodically, from highest From high to low throughout, that whoso please Tim. Come not to me again: but say to Athens, 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us In our dear peril.' 1 Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt, The Walls of Athens, Enter Two Senators, and a Messenger, 1 Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files As full as thy report. embossed froth-] Embossed froth, is swollen froth; from bosse, Fr. a tumour. 7 In our dear peril.] Dear, in Shakspeare's language, is dire, dreadful, but may, in the present instance, signify immediate, or imminent. Mess. I have spoke the least: Besides, his expedition promises Present approach. 2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love made a particular force, And made us speak like friends :-this man was riding From Alcibiades to Timon's cave, With letters of entreaty, which imported 1 Sen. Enter Senators from TIMON. Here come our brothers. 3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him ex pect. The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring Doth choke the air with dust: In, and prepare; Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Woods. TIMON's Cave, and a Tomb-stone seen Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON. Sold. By all description this should be the place. Who's here? speak, ho!-No answer?-What is this? Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span: Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man. Dead, sure; and this his grave. |