Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces.

[Throwing water in their faces. Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd, and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears; You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! Of man and beast the infinite malady

Crust you quite o'er!—What! dost thou go? Soft, take thy physic first thou too, and thou:[Throws the dishes at them, and drives them

out.

Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast,
Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest.

Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be
Of Timon, man and all humanity!

[Exit.

The Guests return.

1 Lord.

How now, my lords!

2 Lord.

fury ?

3 Lord.

Know you the quality of Lord Timon's

Push! did you see my cap?

4 Lord. I have lost my gown.

3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and naught but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel th' other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat: - did you see my jewel?

4 Lord. Did you see my cap?

2 Lord. Here 'tis.

4 Lord. Here lies my gown.

1 Lord.
2 Lord. Lord Timon's mad.

Let's make no stay.

3 Lord.

4 Lord.

stones.

I feel 't upon my bones.

One day he gives us diamonds, next day

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. — Without the Walls of Athens.

Enter TIMON.

TIMON.

L

ET me look back upon thee. O thou wall,

That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the
earth,

And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench,
And minister in their steads! to general filths
Convert o' th' instant green virginity!

Do't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal!
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law: maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' th' brothel! son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire;
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,

Decline to your confounding contraries,

And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men,

[blocks in formation]

Your potent and infectious fevers heap

On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
Sow all th' Athenian bosoms, and their crop
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath,
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!

Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
Th' unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, you good gods all)
Th' Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high, and low!
Amen.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Athens. A Room in TIMON'S House.

Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants.

1 Serv. Hear you, master steward! where's our

master?

Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

Flav. Alack! my fellows, what should I say to you?

Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

I am as poor as you.

1 Serv.

Such a house broke!

So noble a master fallen!

All gone, and not

One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him!

2 Serv.

As we do turn our backs

From our companion, thrown into his grave,

So his familiars to his buried fortunes

Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,

With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,

Walks, like contempt, alone.

More of our fellows.

Enter other Servants.

Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house. 3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery, That see I by our faces: we are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow. Leak'd is our bark; And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, Hearing the surges threat: we must all part Into this sea of air.

Flav.

Good fellows all,

The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,

Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,

As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,

'We have seen better days.'

Nay, put out all your hands.
Thus part we rich in sorrow,

Let each take some;
[Giving them money.
Not one word more:
parting poor.

[The Servants embrace, and part several ways. O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live But in a dream of friendship?

To have his pomp, and all what state compounds,

But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?
Poor honest lord! brought low by his own heart;
Undone by goodness. Strange, unusual blood,
When man's worst sin is, he does too much good!
Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men
My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accurs'd,
Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat

Of monstrous friends;

Nor has he with him to supply his life,

Or that which can command it.

I'll follow, and inquire him out:

I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold I'll be his steward still.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The Woods.

Enter TIMON.

Tim. O, blessed breeding sun! draw from the

earth

Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb

Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes,

The greater scorns the lesser not nature,

(To whom all sores lay siege) can bear great fortune,

But by contempt of nature.

Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;

The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.

« AnteriorContinuar »