Athens in the dust. And now the memory of Lord Timon's former
prowess and military conduct came fresh into their forgetful minds, for
Timon had been their general in past times, and a valiant and expert
soldier, who alone of all the Athenians was deemed able to cope with a
besieging army such as then threatened them, or to drive back the
furious approaches of Alcibiades.

A deputation of the senators was chosen in this emergency to wait upon
Timon. To him they come in their extremity, to whom, when he was in
extremity, they had shown but small regard; as if they presumed upon his
gratitude whom they had disobliged, and had derived a claim to his
courtesy from their own most discourteous and unpiteous treatment.

Now they earnestly beseech him, implore him with tears, to return and
save that city, from which their ingratitude had so lately driven him;
now they offer him riches, power, dignities, satisfaction for past
injuries, and public honours, and the public love; their persons, lives,
and fortunes, to be at his disposal, if he will but come back and save
them. But Timon the naked, Timon the man-hater, was no longer Lord
Timon, the lord of bounty, the flower of valour, their defence in war,
their ornament in peace. If Alcibiades killed his countrymen, Timon
cared not. If he sacked fair Athens, and slew her old men and her
infants, Timon would rejoice. So he told them; and that there was not a
knife in the unruly camp which he did not prize above the reverendest
throat in Athens.

This was all the answer he vouchsafed to the weeping disappointed
senators; only at parting he bade them commend him to his countrymen,
and tell them, that to ease them of their griefs and anxieties, and to
prevent the consequences of fierce Alcibiades' wrath, there was yet a
way left, which he would teach them, for he had yet so much affection
left for his dear countrymen as to be willing to do them a kindness
before his death. These words a little revived the senators, who hoped
that his kindness for their city was returning. Then Timon told them
that he had a tree, which grew near his cave, which he should shortly
have occasion to cut down, and he invited all his friends in Athens,
high or low, of what degree soever, who wished to shun affliction, to
come and take a taste of his tree before he cut it down; meaning, that
they might come and hang themselves on it, and escape affliction that
way.

And this was the last courtesy, of all hi