2158Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice:

2159For many so arriue at second Masters,

2160Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true,

2161(For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure)

2162Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,

2163If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts,

2164Expecting in returne twenty for one?

2165Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest

2166Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late:

2167You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast.

2168Suspect still comes, where an estate is least.

2169That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue,

2170Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde;

2171Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it,

2172My most Honour'd Lord,

2173For any benefit that points to mee,

2174Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange

2175For this one wish, that you had power and wealth

2176To requite me, by making rich your selfe.

2177Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man,

2178Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie

2179Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy,

2180But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men:

2181Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none,

2182But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone,

2183Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges

2184What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em,

2185Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods

2186And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods,

2187And so farewell, and thriue.

2188Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master.

2189Tim. If thou hat'st Curses

2190Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free:

2191Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee. Exit

2193Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre

2194where he abides.

2195Poet. What's to be thought of him?

2196Does the Rumor hold for true,

2197That hee's so full of Gold?

2198Painter. Certaine.

2199Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo

2200Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd

2201Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity.

2202'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward

2203A mighty summe.

2204Poet. Then this breaking of his,

2205Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?

2206Painter. Nothing else:

2207You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe,

2208And flourish with the highest:

2209Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues

2210To him, in this suppos'd distresse of his:

2211It will shew honestly in vs,

2212And is very likely, to loade our purposes

2213With what they trauaile for,

2214If it be a iust and true report, that goes

2215Of his hauing.

2216Poet. What haue you now

2217To present vnto him?

2218Painter. Nothing at this time

2219But my Visitation: onely I will promise him

2220An excellent Peece.

2221Poet. I must serue him so too;

2222Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him.

2223Painter. Good as the best.

2224Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th'Time;

2225It opens the eyes of Expectation.

2226Performance, is euer the duller for his acte,

2227And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people,

2228The deede of Saying is quite out of vse.

2229To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable;

2230Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament

2231Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement

2232That makes it.

2234Timon. Excellent Workeman,

2235Thou canst not paint a man so badde

2236As is thy selfe.

2237Poet. I am thinking

2238What I shall say I haue prouided for him:

2239It must be a personating of himselfe:

2240A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity,

2241With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries

2242That follow youth and opulencie.

2243Timon. Must thou needes

2244Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke?

2245Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men?

2246Do so, I haue Gold for thee.

2247Poet. Nay let's seeke him.

2248Then do we sinne against our owne estate,

2249When we may profit meete, and come too late.

2250Painter. True:

2251When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night;

2252Finde what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light.

2253Come.

2254Tim. Ile meete you at the turne:

2255What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt

2256In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede?

2257'Tis thou that rigg'st the Barke, and plow'st the Fome,

2258Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue,

2259To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye:

2260Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay.

2261Fit I meet them.

2262Poet. Haile worthy Timon.

2263Pain. Our late Noble Master.

2264Timon. Haue I once liu'd

2265To see two honest men?

2266Poet. Sir:

2267Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted,

2268Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off,

2269Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits)

2270Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough.

2271What, to you,

2272Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence

2273To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couer

2274The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude

2275With any size of words.

2276Timon. Let it go,

2277Naked men may see't the better:

2278You that are honest, by being what you are,

2279Make them best seene, and knowne.

2280Pain. He, and my selfe

2281Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts,

2282And sweetly felt it.

2283Timon. I, you are honest man.

2284Painter. We are hither come

2285To offer you our seruice.

2286Timon. Most honest men: