The Life of Timon of Athens

TIMONThat nature, being sick of man's unkindness,Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,

[Digging.]

Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,Engenders the black toad and adder blue,The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,With all the abhorred births below crisp heavenWhereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward faceHath to the marbled mansion all aboveNever presented! O! a root; dear thanks:Dry up thy marrows, vines and plough-torn leas;Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughtsAnd morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,That from it all consideration slips!

[Enter APEMANTUS.]

More man! Plague! plague!APEMANTUSI was directed hither: men reportThou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.TIMON'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dogWhom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!APEMANTUSThis is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy sprungFrom change of fortune. Why this spade, this place?This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft,Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgotThat ever Timon was. Shame not these woodsBy putting on the cunning of a carper.Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thriveBy that which has undone thee: hinge thy kneeAnd let his very breath, whom thou'lt observeBlow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus;Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bade welcome,To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most justThat thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.TIMONWere I like thee I'd throw away myself.APEMANTUSThou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;A madman so long, now a fool. What! think'stThat the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heelsAnd skip when thou point'st out? will the cold brook,Candied with ice, caudle thy morning tasteTo cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? Call the creaturesWhose naked natures live in all the spiteOf wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,To the conflicting elements expos'd,Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;O! thou shalt find —TIMONA fool of thee. Depart.APEMANTUSI love thee better now than e'er I did.TIMONI hate thee worse.APEMANTUSWhy?TIMONThou flatter'st misery.APEMANTUSI flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.TIMONWhy dost thou seek me out?APEMANTUSTo vex thee.TIMONAlways a villain's office or a fool's.Dost please thyself in't?APEMANTUSAy.TIMONWhat! a knave too?APEMANTUSIf thou didst put this sour-cold habit onTo castigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thouDost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be againWert thou not beggar. Willing miseryOutlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before;The one is filling still, never complete;The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,Hath a distracted and most wretched being,Worse than the worst, content.Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.TIMONNot by his breath that is more miserable.Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender armWith favour never clasp'd, but bred a dog.Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceededThe sweet degrees that this brief world affordsTo such as may the passive drugs of itFreely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyselfIn general riot; melted down thy youthIn different beds of lust; and never learn'dThe icy precepts of respect, but follow'dThe sugar'd game before thee. But myself,Who had the world as my confectionary,The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of menAt duty, more than I could frame employment,That numberless upon me stuck as leavesDo on the oak, have with one winter's brushFell from their boughs, and left me open, bareFor every storm that blows; I, to bear this,That never knew but better, is some burden:Thy nature did commence in sufferance, timeHath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,Must be thy subject; who in spite put stuffTo some she-beggar and compounded theePoor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.APEMANTUSArt thou proud yet?TIMONAy, that I am not thee.APEMANTUSI, that I wasNo prodigal.TIMONI, that I am one now;Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.That the whole life of Athens were in this!Thus would I eat it.

[Eating a root.]

APEMANTUSHere; I will mend thy feast.TIMONFirst mend my company, take away thyself.APEMANTUSSo I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.TIMON'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd.If not, I would it were.APEMANTUSWhat wouldst thou have to Athens?TIMONThee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.APEMANTUSHere is no use for gold.TIMONThe best and truest;For here it sleeps and does no hired harm.APEMANTUSWhere liest o' nights, Timon?TIMONUnder that's above me.Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?APEMANTUSWhere my stomach finds meat; or rather, where I eat it.TIMONWould poison were obedient and knew my mind!APEMANTUSWhere wouldst thou send it?TIMONTo sauce thy dishes.APEMANTUS. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know'st none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee; eat it.TIMONOn what I hate I feed not.APEMANTUSDost hate a medlar?TIMONAy, though it look like thee.APEMANTUS. An thou hadst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?TIMON. Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?APEMANTUSMyself.TIMONI understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog.APEMANTUS. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?TIMON. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?APEMANTUSGive it the beasts, to be rid of the men.TIMON. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?APEMANTUSAy, Timon.TIMON. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to. If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when peradventure, thou wert accused by the ass; if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf; if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner; wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury; wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life; all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be that were not subject to a beast? and what beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!APEMANTUS. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here; the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.TIMON. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?APEMANTUS. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else to do, I'll see thee again.TIMON. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.APEMANTUSThou art the cap of all the fools alive.TIMONWould thou wert clean enough to spit upon!APEMANTUSA plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse!TIMONAll villains that do stand by thee are pure.APEMANTUSThere is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.TIMONIf I name thee,I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.APEMANTUSI would my tongue could rot them off!TIMONAway, thou issue of a mangy dog!Choler does kill me that thou art alive;I swound to see thee.APEMANTUSWould thou wouldst burst!TIMONAway,Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall loseA stone by thee.

[Throws a stone at him.]

APEMANTUSBeast!TIMONSlave!APEMANTUSToad!TIMONRogue, rogue, rogue!I am sick of this false world, and will love noughtBut even the mere necessities upon't.Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;Lie where the light foam of the sea may beatThy gravestone daily: make thine epitaph,That death in me at others' lives may laugh.

[Looking on the gold.]

O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defilerOf Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer,Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snowThat lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,That solder'st close impossibilities,And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongueTo every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtueSet them into confounding odds, that beastsMay have the world in empire!APEMANTUSWould 'twere so:But not till I am dead; I'll say thou'st gold:Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.TIMONThrong'd to?APEMANTUSAy.TIMONThy back, I prithee.APEMANTUSLive, and love thy misery!TIMONLong live so, and so die!

[Exit APEMANTUS.]

I am quit.More things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

[Enter BANDITTI.]

FIRST BANDIT. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy.SECOND BANDITIt is noised he hath a mass of treasure.THIRD BANDIT. Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it?SECOND BANDITTrue; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.FIRST BANDITIs not this he?BANDITTIWhere?SECOND BANDIT'Tis his description.THIRD BANDITHe; I know him.BANDITTISave thee, Timon!TIMONNow, thieves?BANDITTISoldiers, not thieves.TIMONBoth too, and women's sons.BANDITTIWe are not thieves, but men that much do want.TIMONYour greatest want is, you want much of meat.Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips;The bounteous housewife, Nature, on each bushLays her full mess before you. Want! Why want?FIRST BANDITWe cannot live on grass, on berries, water,As beasts and birds and fishes.TIMONNor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you conThat you are thieves profess'd, that you work notIn holier shapes; for there is boundless theftIn limited professions. Rascal thieves,Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grapeTill the high fever seethe your blood to froth,And so scape hanging: trust not the physician;His antidotes are poison, and he slaysMore than you rob: take wealth and lives together;Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't,Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:The sun's a thief, and with his great attractionRobs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolvesThe moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,That feeds and breeds by a composture stolenFrom general excrement, each thing's a thief;The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough powerHas uncheck'd 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 stealBut thieves do lose it: steal no less for thisI give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er!Amen.THIRD BANDIT. Has almost charm'd me from my profession by persuading me to it.FIRST BANDIT. 'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.SECOND BANDITI'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.FIRST BANDIT. Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.

[Exeunt BANDITTI.]

[Enter FLAVIUS.]

FLAVIUSO you gods!Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?Full of decay and failing? O monumentAnd wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!What an alteration of honourHas desperate want made!What viler thing upon the earth than friendsWho can bring noblest minds to basest ends!How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,When man was wish'd to love his enemies!Grant I may ever love, and rather wooThose that would mischief me than those that do!He has caught me in his eye: I will presentMy honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

[TIMON comes forward.]

TIMONAway! What art thou?FLAVIUSHave you forgot me, sir?TIMONWhy dost ask that? I have forgot all men;Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee.FLAVIUSAn honest poor servant of yours.TIMONThen I know thee not:I never had honest man about me; ay allI kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.FLAVIUSThe gods are witness,Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer griefFor his undone lord than mine eyes for you.TIMONWhat! dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee,Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'stFlinty mankind, whose eyes do never giveBut thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping:Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!FLAVIUSI beg of you to know me, good my lord,To accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lastsTo entertain me as your steward still.TIMONHad I a stewardSo true, so just, and now so comfortable?It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.Let me behold thy face. Surely, this manWas born of woman.Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,You perpetual sober gods! I do proclaimOne 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 mastersUpon 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,If not a usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts,Expecting in return, twenty for one?FLAVIUSNo, my most worthy master, in whose breastDoubt and suspect, alas! are plac'd too late!You should have fear'd 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 honour'd lord,For any benefit that points to me,Either in hope or present, I'd exchangeFor this one wish, that you had power and wealthTo requite me by making rich yourself.TIMONLook thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,Here, take: the gods, out of my misery,Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men;Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogsWhat thou deny'st 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.FLAVIUSO! let me stayAnd comfort you, my master.TIMONIf thou hatest curses,Stay not; fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd and free:Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

[Exeunt severally.]

Act V

Scene I. The woods. Before TIMON's Cave

[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 is 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.POETThen 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 just and true report that goes of his having.POETWhat 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' the 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.POETNay, let's seek him;Then do we sin against our own estateWhen we may profit meet, and come too late.PAINTERTrue;When the day serves, before black – corner'd night,Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.Come.TIMON

[Aside.] I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold,

That he is worshipp'd in a baser templeThan where swine feed!'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,Settlest admired reverence in a slave.To thee be worship! and thy saints for ayeBe crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!Fit I meet them.

[Advancing from his cave.]

POETHail, worthy Timon!PAINTEROur late noble master!TIMONHave I once liv'd to see two honest men?POETSir,Having often of your open bounty tasted,Hearing you were retir'd, 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 influenceTo their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot coverThe monstrous bulk of this ingratitudeWith any size of words.TIMONLet it go naked: men may see't the better.You, that are honest, by being what you are,Make them best seen and known.PAINTERHe and myselfHave travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,And sweetly felt it.TIMONAy, you are honest men.PAINTERWe are hither come to offer you our service.TIMONMost honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? No?BOTHWhat we can do, we'll do, to do you service.TIMONYe're honest men! Ye've heard that I have gold;I am sure you have. Speak truth; ye're honest men.PAINTERSo it is said, my noble lord; but thereforeCame not my friend nor I.TIMONGood honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeitBest in all Athens. Thou'rt, indeed, the best;Thou counterfeit'st most lively.PAINTERSo, so, my lord.TIMONE'en so, sir, as I say.

[To the POET.]

And for thy fiction,Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smoothThat thou art even natural in thine art.But for all this, my honest-natur'd friends,I must needs say you have a little fault.Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish IYou take much pains to mend.BOTHBeseech your honourTo make it known to us.TIMONYou'll take it ill.BOTHMost thankfully, my lord.TIMONWill you indeed?BOTHDoubt it not, worthy lord.TIMONThere's never a one of you but trusts a knaveThat mightily deceives you.BOTHDo we, my lord?TIMONAy, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,Keep in your bosom; yet remain assur'dThat he's a made-up villain.PAINTERI know not such, my lord.POETNor I.TIMONLook 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.BOTHName them, my lord; let's know them.TIMONYou that way, and you this, but two in company;Each man apart, all single and alone,Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

[To the PAINTER.]

If, where thou art, two villians shall not be,Come not near him.

[To the POET.]

If thou wouldst not resideBut where one villain is, then him abandon.Hence! pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves.

[To the PAINTER.]

You have work for me; there's payment; hence!

[To the POET.]

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.Out, rascal dogs!

[Beats them out and then returns to his cave.]

[Enter FLAVIUS and two SENATORS.]

FLAVIUSIt is vain that you would speak with Timon;For he is set so only to himselfThat nothing but himself, which looks like man,Is friendly with him.FIRST SENATORBring us to his cave.It is our part and promise to the AtheniansTo speak with Timon.SECOND SENATORAt all times alikeMen are not still the same; 'twas time and griefsThat fram'd 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.FLAVIUSHere is his cave.Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!Look out, and speak to friends. The AtheniansBy two of their most reverend Senate greet thee.Speak to them, noble Timon.

[Enter TIMON from his cave.]

TIMONThou sun that comfort'st, burn! Speak and be hang'd!For each true word, a blister! and each falseBe as a cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,Consuming it with speaking!FIRST SENATORWorthy Timon, —TIMONOf none but such as you, and you of Timon.FIRST SENATORThe senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.TIMONI thank them; and would send them back the plague,Could I but catch it for them.FIRST SENATORO! forgetWhat we are sorry for ourselves in thee.The senators with one consent of loveEntreat thee back to Athens, who have thoughtOn special dignities, which vacant lieFor thy best use and wearing.SECOND SENATORThey confessToward thee forgetfulness too general, gross;Which now the public body, which doth seldomPlay the recanter, feeling in itselfA lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withalOf it own fail, restraining aid to Timon,And send forth us to make their sorrow'd render,Together with a recompense more fruitfulThan their offence can weigh down by the dram;Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealthAs shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,And write in thee the figures of their love,Ever to read them thine.TIMONYou 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.FIRST SENATORTherefore so please thee to return with us,And of our Athens – thine and ours – to takeThe captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good nameLive with authority. So soon we shall drive backOf Alcibiades the approaches wild,Who, like a boar too savage, doth root upHis country's peace.SECOND SENATORAnd shakes his threat'ning swordAgainst the walls of Athens.FIRST SENATORTherefore, Timon, —TIMONWell, 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 aged men by the beards,Giving our holy virgins to the stainOf contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,In pity of our aged and our youthI cannot choose but tell him that I care not,And let him take't at worst; for their knives care notWhile you have throats to answer. For myself,There's not a whittle in the unruly campBut I do prize it at my love beforeThe reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave youTo the protection of the prosperous gods,As thieves to keepers.FLAVIUSStay not, all's in vain.TIMONWhy, I was writing of my epitaph;It will be seen to-morrow. My long sicknessOf 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!FIRST SENATORWe speak in vain.TIMONBut yet I love my country, and am notOne that rejoices in the common wrack,As common bruit doth put it.FIRST SENATORThat's well spoke.TIMONCommend me to my loving countrymen, —FIRST SENATOR. These words become your lips as they pass through them.SECOND SENATORAnd enter in our ears like great triumphersIn their applauding gates.TIMONCommend 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 throesThat nature's fragile vessel doth sustainIn life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.FIRST SENATORI like this well; he will return again.TIMONI 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 degreeFrom high to low throughout, that whoso pleaseTo 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.FLAVIUSTrouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.TIMONCome not to me again; but say to AthensTimon hath made his everlasting mansionUpon the beached verge of the salt flood,Who once a day with his embossed frothThe 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 TIMON into his cave.]