of Timon, man, and all humanity!

[Exit.

Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

Re-enter the Lords, with other Lords and Senators. 1 Lord. How now, my lords?

2 Lord. Know you the quality of lord Timon's fury? 3 Lofd. Pish! did you see my cap?

4 Lord. I have lost my gown.

3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel the other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat:-Did you see my jewel ? 4 Lord. Did you see my cap?

LET 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'the 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'the brothel! son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin❜d crutch from the 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 yet confusion live!- Plagues, incident to men,
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 the 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 banns!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find

The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.

The gods confound (hear me, you good gods all,)
The 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.
[Exit.
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 mas-
ter?

Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

So noble a master fallen! all gone! and not One friend, to take his fortune by the arin, 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.

Good fellows all,

Flav. 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. Let each take some;

[Giving them money. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more : Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

[Exeunt Serv.
-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'd 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 ungrateful scat
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 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 denude that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,

The want that makes him lean.

' dares,

Who dares, who

In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say This man's a flatterer? if one be,
So are they all; for every grize of fortune
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
Destruction fang mankind!-Earth, yield me roots!
[Digging.

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison! What is here?
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens!
Thus much of this, will make black, white; foul, fair;
Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, val-
iant.

Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? Why this

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides;
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads.
This yellow slave

Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it,
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.-[ March afar off.]-la! a drum?
-Thou'rt quick,

But yet I'll bury thee. Thou'lt go, strong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand :-
Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping some gold.

Enter Alcibiades, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; Phrynia and Timandra.

Alcib. What art thou there?

Fow showing me again the eyes of man!

Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none: Ir Thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for Thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, For thou'rt a man!

Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. Alcib. I see them now; then was a blessed time. Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. Timan. Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world Voie'd so regardfully?

Timan.

Hang thee, monster! Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.

I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band: I have heard, and griev'd,
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,-
Tim. I pythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
Tim. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost
trouble?.

Tim. The gods confound them all i'thy conquest, and

Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

Alcib.
Tim. That,

Why me, Timon?

That art thyself a man?

Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

Alcib.

I know thee well

My country.

Put up thy gold; Go on,-here's gold,-go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-vie'd city hang his poison
In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,
He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,

Herself's a bawd: Let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,

Set them down horrible traitors: Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their merey;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronoune'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: Swear against objects;
Pat armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes;
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers:

Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone."
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
giv'st me,

Not all thy counsel.

Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee!

Phry. & Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon: Hast thou more?

Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant: You are not oathable,-
Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear,
Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues,
The immortal gods that hear you,-spare your oaths,
I'll trust to your conditions: Be whores still;
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats: Yet may your pains, six months,
Be quite contrary: And thatch your poor thin roofs
With burdens of the dead ;-some that were hang'd,
No matter:-wear them, betray with them: whore
still;

Paint till a horse may mire upon your face:
A pox of wrinkles!

Phry. & Timan. Well, more gold ;-What then?Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.

"

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 face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented !-O, a root,-Dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts,
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!—
. Enter Apemantus.

More man? plague! plague!

Apem. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate: Consumption catch thee!
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected;

A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
From 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 forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: Thou wast told thus ;
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid welcome
To knaves, and all approachers: "Tis most just,
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thy-
self;

A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd trees,
That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures,—
Whose naked natures live in all the spite

Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find.

Call'st thou that harm.

Get thee away,

We but offend him.Strike. [Drum beats. Exe. Alcib. Phry. and Tima. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou,

[Digging.

Whose womb unmeasureable, 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 heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;

Why?

Thou flatter'st misery. Apem. I flatter not: but say, thou art a caitiff. Tim. Why dost thou seek me out? Apem.

To vex thee. Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in't?

Worse than the worst, content.)

Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.
Tim. Not by his breath, that is me.e miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it

Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth

In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd,
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary ;

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows;-I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate
men?

They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou giv'n?
If thou wilt curse,-thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff
To some she beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!-
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer.
Apem. Art thou proud yet?

Tim. I, 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.
Apem.

[Eating a root. Here; I will mend thy feast. [Offering him something. Tim. First mend my company, take away thyself. Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were.

Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens ? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. Apem. Here is no use for gold.

Apem. An thou hadst hated medlers, sooner, thơn shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means?

Tim. Who, without those means thon talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?

Apem. Myself.

Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog.

Apem. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?

Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confe sion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts? Apem. Ay, Timon.

Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant the 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 a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation?

Apem. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou might'st have hit upon it here: The com monwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts. Tim. How bas the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

Apem. 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.

Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, than Apemantus.

Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
Tim. 'Would thou wert elean enough to spit upon.
Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad to curse.
Tim. All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure.
Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.
Tim. If I name thee.-

Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends: When thou wast in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it.

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.

Apem. Dost hate a inediar?

Tim. Ay, though it look like they.

Apem. I would, my tongue could rot them off! Tim. Away thou issue of a mangy dog! Choler does kill me, that thou art alive!

I swoon to see thee.

Apem. Tim.

''Would thou wouldst burst!, Away.

Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose

A stone by thee.

Apem. Beast!
Tim.

Apem. Tim.

[Throws a stone at him.

Slave!

[Apemautus retreats backward, as going

I am sick of this faise world; and will love nought

But even the mere necessities upon it.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others' lives may laugh.
✪ thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce

[Looking on the gold. "Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, That solder'st close impossibilities,

And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue,
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!

1 Thief. 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.

2 Thief. It is noised, he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him; if he eare not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it?

2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis

Tim. Your 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 briers scarlet hips; The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? 1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,
That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not
In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape,
Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays

More than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
Do villany, do, since you profess to do't,

Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs 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 resolves
The moon into salt tears: the carth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief;
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power,
Have 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 steal,
But thieves do lose it: Steal not less, for this

I give you; and gold confound you howsoever!
Amen.
[Timon retires to his cave.
3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my pro
fession, by persuading me to it.

1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.

Enter Flavius. Flav. O you gods!

[Exeunt Thieves.

Is
yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of honour has

Desperate 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 wish'd to love his enemies:
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do!
He has 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 comes forward from his cave.
Tim. Away! what art thou?

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!

Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
To accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts,
To entertain me as your steward still.

Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now So comfortable? It almost turns

My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold

Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.-
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim