Tim.
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^{9 note}
Convert o' the instant, green^{1 note}
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^{2 note}

Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries^{3 note}

,
And yet confusion^{4 note} 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^{5 note}

SCENE II. Athens. A Room in Timon's House. Enter Flavius^{7 note}, 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^{8 note}
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^{9 note}

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. 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^{1 note}
. [Exeunt Servants.
O, the fierce wretchedness^{2 note}

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^{3 note}

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^{4 note}
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^{5 note}

Raise me this beggar, and deny't that lord^{6 note}

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, This man's a flatterer^{8 note}

? if one be,

So are they all; for every grize of fortune^{9 note}

Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorr'd
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblance, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
Destruction fang mankind^{1 note}
!—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^{2 note}. Roots, you clear heavens^{3 note}

Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads^{5 note}:
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy^{6 note} ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it^{7 note}
,
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again^{8 note}

She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at^{9 note}

To the April day again^{1 note}

Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature^{2 note}.—[March afar off.]—Ha! a drum?—Thou'rt quick^{3 note},

But yet I'll bury thee: Thou'lt go, strong thief^{4 note}
,
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?
Speak.

Tim.
A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
For showing me again the eyes of man!

Alcib.
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?

Tim.
I am misanthropos^{5 note}, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.

Alcib.
I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

Tim.
I know thee too; and more, than that I know thee,
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules^{6 note}

Phry.
Thy lips rot off!

Tim.
I will not kiss thee^{7 note}

Alcib.
How came the noble Timon to this change?

Tim.
As the moon does, by wanting light to give:
But then renew I could not, like the moon;
There were no suns to borrow of.

Alcib.
Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?

Tim.
None, but to
Maintain my opinion.

Alcib.
What is it, Timon?

Tim.

Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou wilt not promise^{8 note}
, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art 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^{9 note}

Tim.
As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

Timan.
Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world
Voic'd so regardfully?

Tim.
Art thou Timandra?

Timan.
Yes.

Tim.
Be a whore still! they love thee not, that use thee;
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves

For tubs, and baths^{1 note}





; bring down rose-cheeked youth^{2 note}

To the tub-fast, and the diet^{3 note}

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^{4 note},—

Tim.
I pr'ythee, 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?
I had rather be alone.

Alcib.
Why, fare thee well:
Here's some gold for thee.

Tim.
Keep't, I cannot eat it.

Alcib.
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,—

Tim.
Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

Alcib.
Ay, Timon, and have cause.

Tim.
The gods confound them all i' thy conquest; and
Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd:

Alcib.
Why me, Timon?

Tim.
That,
By killing villains, thou wast born to conquer
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-vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air^{5 note}

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^{6 note}; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes^{7 note}

Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down^{8 note}
horrible traitors: Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy^{9 note};

Think it a bastard^{1 note}, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat^{2 note} shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: Swear against objects^{3 note}

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!

Phr. & 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^{4 note}. 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^{5 note}

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!

Phr. & Timan.
Well, more gold;—What then?—
Believ't, that we'll do any thing for gold.

Tim.
Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring^{1 note}

That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly^{2 note}

Phr. & Timan.
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

Tim.
More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

Alcib.
Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon;
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

Tim.
If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

Alcib.
I never did thee harm.

Tim.
Yes, thou spok'st well of me.

Alcib.
Call'st thou that harm?

Tim.
Men daily find it such^{6 note}. Get thee away,
And take thy beagles with thee.

Alcib.
We but offend him.—
Strike. [Drums beats. Exeunt Alcibiades, Phrynia and Timandra.

Tim.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry!—Common mother, thou, [Digging.
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast^{7 note}

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^{9 note}

Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion^{5 note}

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^{7 note}

. 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^{8 note}

Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid welcome^{2 note}

Tim.
Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.

Apem.
Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
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^{3 note}

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^{5 note}

,—bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find—

Tim.
A fool of thee: Depart.

Apem.
I love thee better now than e'er I did.

Tim.
I hate thee worse.

Apem.
Why?

Tim.
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^{6 note}
.

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

Apem.
Ay.

Tim.
What! a knave too^{7 note}?

Apem.
If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou

Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before^{8 note}

Tim.
Not by his breath^{1 note}

Hadst thou, like us^{4 note}

The sweet degrees^{6 note} that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it^{7 note}

The sugar'd game before thee. But myself^{2 note}

Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare^{4 note}

Apem.
Art thou proud yet?

Tim.
Ay, that I am not thee.

Apem.
I, that I was
No prodigal.

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. [Eating a Root.

Apem.
Here; I will mend thy feast. [Offering him something.

Tim.
First mend my company^{7 note}, take away thyself^{8 note}.

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 would'st 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.

Tim.
The best, and truest:
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

Apem.
Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?

Tim.
Under that's above me^{9 note}


.
Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

Apem.

Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim.

'Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind!

Apem.

Where would'st thou send it?

Tim.

To sauce thy dishes.

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^{1 note}

Tim.

On what I hate, I feed not.

Apem.

Dost hate a medlar?

Tim.

Ay, though it look like thee^{2 note}

Apem.

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

Tim.

Who, without those means thou 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 would'st thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Apem.

Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

Tim.

Would'st thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

Apem.

Ay, Timon.

Tim.

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^{3 note}

Apem.

If thou could'st please me with speaking to me, thou might'st have hit upon it here: The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.

Tim.

How has 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^{6 note}

Tim.
'Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon.

Apem.
A plague on thee, thou art too bad to curse^{7 note}.

Tim.
All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure^{8 note}

.

Apem.
There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.

Tim.
If I name thee.—
I'll beat thee,—but I should infect my hands.

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.
'Would thou would'st burst!

Tim.
Away,
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose
A stone by thee. [Throws a Stone at him.

Apem.
Beast!

Tim.
Slave!

Apem.
Toad!

Tim.
Rogue, rogue, rogue! [Apemantus retreats backward, as going.
I am sick of this false 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.
O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce [Looking on the Gold.
'Twixt natural son and sire^{9 note}

! 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^{1 note}

Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!

Apem.
'Would 'twere so;—
But not till I am dead!—I'll say, thou hast gold:
Thou will be throng'd to shortly.

Tim.
Throng'd to?

Apem.
Ay.

Tim.
Thy back, I pr'ythee.

Apem.
Live, and love thy misery!

Tim.
Long live so, and so die!—I am quit.— [Exit Apemantus.
More things like men^{3 note}

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

care 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 hid.

1 Thief.

Is not this he?

Thieves.

Where?

2 Thief.

'Tis his description.

3 Thief.

He; I know him.

Thieves.

Save thee, Timon.

Tim.

Now, thieves?

Thieves.

Soldiers, not thieves.

Tim.

Both too; and women's sons.

Thieves.
We are not thieves, but men that much do want.

Tim.
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat^{5 note}

Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots^{6 note}


;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs:
The oaks bear mast, the briars 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^{7 note}

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 villainy, do, since you profess to do't^{9 note},
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^{1 note}

That feeds and breeds by a composture^{2 note} stole
From general excrement: each thing's a thief,

The laws, your curb and whip^{3 note}

, 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^{4 note}
,
But thieves do lose it: Steal not less^{5 note}, 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 profession, 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^{6 note}.

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^{7 note}

Enter Flavius.

Flav.
O you gods!
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^{8 note}
!
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
How rarely^{9 note}

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?

Flav.
Have you forgot me, sir?

Tim.
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man^{3 note}, I have forgot thee.

Flav.
A honest poor servant of yours.

Tim.
Then
I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man
About me, I; all that^{4 note} I kept were knaves^{5 note},
To serve in meat to villains.

Flav.
The gods are witness,
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.

Tim.
What, dost thou weep?—Come nearer;—then I love thee,
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,
But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping^{6 note}

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^{7 note}

Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.—
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual-sober^{8 note}
gods! I do proclaim
One honest man,—mistake me not,—but one;
No more, I pray,—and he is 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 might'st have sooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon 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^{9 note}

Flav.
No, my most worthy master, in whose breast
Doubt 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 exchange
For this one wish, That you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.

Tim.
Look 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^{1 note};
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 dogs
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them,
Debts wither them to nothing^{2 note}

Flav.
O, let me stay,
And comfort you, my master.

Tim.
If thou hat'st
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.

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