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The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare
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Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso
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shakes
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36
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05_01
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1991-04-10
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344 lines
Enter POET and PAINTER.
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 and
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'th' 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.
Enter TIMON from his cave.
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-cornered night,
Find what thou want'st by free and offered light.
Come.
Timon [Aside.] I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold
That he is worshipped in a baser temple
Than where swine feed!
'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,
Settlest admird reverence in a slave.
To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye
Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey!
[Advancing.] Fit I meet them.
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 abhorrd spirits!
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough-
What, to you,
Whose starlike 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 travelled 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?
Poet &
Painter What we can do we'll do, to do you service.
Timon Y'are honest men. Y've heard that I have gold?
I am sure you have - Speak truth; y'are 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. Th'art 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.
Poet &
Painter Beseech your honour
To make it known to us.
Timon You'll take it ill.
Poet &
Painter Most thankfully, my lord.
Timon Will you indeed?
Poet &
Painter Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Timon There's never a one of you but trusts a knave
That mightily deceives you.
Poet &
Painter 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.
Poet &
Painter Name them, my lord; let's know them.
Timon You that way and you this, but two in company;
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
[To PAINTER.] If where thou art two villains shall not be,
Come not near him. [To POET.] If thou wouldst not reside
But where one villain is, then him abandon.
Hence, pack! There's gold - you came for gold, ye slaves.
[To POET, throwing stones at him.]
You have work for me, there's payment. Hence!
[To PAINTER, throwing stones at him.]
You are an alchemist, make gold of that!
Out, rascal dogs!
[Exeunt POET and PAINTER.
TIMON withdraws into his cave.
Enter FLAVIUS and two SENATORS.
Flavius It is vain that you would speak with Timon;
For he is set so only to himself
That nothing but himself which looks like man
Is friendly with him.
1st Senator Bring us to his cave.
It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
To speak with Timon.
2nd Senator At all times alike
Men are not still the same. 'Twas time and griefs
That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
And chance it as it may.
Flavius Here is his cave.
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to friends. Th' Athenians
By two of their most reverend Senate greet thee.
Speak to them, noble Timon.
Re-enter TIMON, out of his cave.
Timon Thou sun that comforts, burn! Speak, and be hanged!
For each true word a blister, and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o'th' tongue,
Consuming it with speaking!
1st Senator Worthy Timon-
Timon Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
1st Senator The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
Timon I thank them, and would send them back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.
1st Senator O, forget
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators with one consent of love
Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought
On special dignities which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
2nd Senator They confess
Toward thee forgetfulness too general gross;
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
Play the recanter, feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon,
And send forth us to make their sorrowed render
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram.
Ay, even such heaps and sums 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.
Timon You witch me in it,
Surprise me to the very brink of tears.
Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
1st Senator Therefore so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens - thine and ours - to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority. So soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,
Who like a boar too savage doth root up
His country's peace.
2nd Senator And shakes his threat'ning sword
Against the walls of Athens.
1st Senator Therefore, Timon-
Timon 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,
And take our goodly agd men by th' beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, madbrained war,
Then let him know - and tell him Timon speaks it
In pity of our agd and our youth-
I cannot choose but tell him that I care not,
And - let him take't at worst - for their knives care not
While you have throats to answer. For myself,
There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp
But I do prize it at my love before
The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the prosperous gods,
As thieves to keepers.
Flavius Stay not; all's in vain.
Timon Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
It will be seen tomorrow. 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.
1st Senator We speak in vain.
Timon But yet I love my country, and am not
One that rejoices in the common wrack,
As common bruit doth put it.
1st Senator That's well spoke.
Timon Commend me to my loving countrymen-
1st Senator These words become your lips as they pass through them.
2nd Senator And enter in our ears like great triumphers
In their applauding gates.
Timon 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.
1st Senator I like this well. He will return again.
Timon I have a tree which grows here in my close
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it. Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
Flavius Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.
Timon Come not to me again; but say to Athens
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beachd verge of the salt flood,
Who once a day with his embossd froth
The turbulent surge shall cover. Thither come,
And let my gravestone be your oracle.
Lips, let sour words go by and language end.
What is amiss, plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works, and death their gain.
Sun, hide thy beams, Timon hath done his reign.
[Exit, into his cave.
1st Senator His discontents are unremovably
Coupled to nature.
2nd Senator Our hope in him is dead. Let us return,
And strain what other means is left unto us
In our dear peril.
1st Senator It requires swift foot.
[Exeunt.