And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.

The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves

The moon into salt tears. The earth’s a thief,

That feeds and breeds by a composture stol’n

From gen‘ral excrement. Each thing’s a thief.

The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power

Has unchecked theft. Love not yourselves. Away,

Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats;

All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go,

Break open shops; nothing can you steal

But thieves do lose it. Steal no less for this I give you,

And gold confound you howsoe’er. Amen.

THIRD THIEF He’s almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.

FIRST THIEF ’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.

SECOND THIEF I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

FIRST THIEF Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.

Exeunt Thieves

Enter Flavius to Timon

FLAVIUS O you gods!

Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord,

Full of decay and failing? O monument

And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed!

What an alteration of honour has desp’rate want made!

What viler thing upon the earth than friends,

Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!

How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise,

When man was wished to love his enemies!

Grant I may ever love and rather woo

Those that would mischief me than those that do!

Timon sees him

He’s caught me in his eye. I will present

My honest grief unto him, and as my lord

Still serve him with my life.—My dearest master.

TIMON

Away! What art thou?

FLAVIUS Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON

Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;

Then if thou grant‘st thou’rt man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON

Then I know thee not. I never had

Honest man about me; ay, all I kept were knaves,

To serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS The gods are witness,

Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief

For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON

What, dost thou weep? Come. nearer then; I love thee

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim’st

Flinty mankind whose eyes do never give

But thorough lust and laughter. Pity’s sleeping.

Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with

weeping!

FLAVIUS

I beg of you to know me, good my lord,

T’accept my grief,

⌈He offers his money⌉

and whilst this poor wealth lasts

To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON Had I a steward

So true, so just, and now so comfortable?

It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.

Let me behold thy face. Surely this man

Was born of woman.

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,

You perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim

One honest man—mistake me not, but one,

No more, I pray—and he’s a steward.

How fain would I have hated all mankind,

And thou redeem‘st thyself! But all save thee

I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise,

For by oppressing and betraying me

Thou mightst have sooner got another service;

For many so arrive at second masters

Upon their first lord’s neck. But tell me true—

For I must ever doubt, though ne’er so sure—

Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,

A usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,

Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS

No, my most worthy master, in whose breast

Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late.

You should have feared false times when you did feast.

Suspect still comes where an estate is least.

That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,

Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,

Care of your food and living; and, believe it,

My most honoured lord,

For any benefit that points to me,

Either in hope or present, I’d exchange

For this one wish: that you had power and wealth

To requite me by making rich yourself.

TIMON

Look thee, ’tis so. Thou singly honest man,

⌈He gives Flavius gold⌉

Here, take. The gods, out of my misery,

Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,

But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men,

Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,

But let the famished flesh slide from the bone

Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs

What thou deniest to men. Let prisons swallow ‘em,

Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods,

And may diseases lick up their false bloods.

And so farewell, and thrive.

FLAVIUS O, let me stay

And comfort you, my master.

TIMON If thou hat’st curses,

Stay not. Fly whilst thou art blest and free.

Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.

Exeunt ⌈Timon into his cave, Flavius another way⌉

5.1 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.