Enter Poet and Painter; Timon watching them from his cave.[2645]
Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far[2646][2647]
where he abides.[2646]
Poet. What's to be thought of him? does the rumour[2648]
hold for true, that he's so full of gold?[2648]
Pain. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra[2648][2649]5
had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor straggling[2648]
soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said he gave unto[2648]
his steward a mighty sum.[2648]
Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for[2648][2650]
his friends.[2648] 10
Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens[2648]
again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore 'tis not amiss[2648]
we tender our loves to him in this supposed distress of his:[2648]
it will show honestly in us, and is very likely to load our[2648]
purposes with what they travail for, if it be a just and true[2648][2651]15
report that goes of his having.[2648]
Poet. What have you now to present unto him?[2648]
Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I[2648]
will promise him an excellent piece.[2648]
Poet. I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent[2648] 20
that's coming toward him.[2648]
Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the[2648][2652]
time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever[2648]
the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler[2648]
kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To[2648][2653]25
promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a[2648]
kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in[2648]
his judgement that makes it.[2648][2654]