* ^noteEnter Timon.
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'th' instant, green virginity!
Do't in your parent's eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your truster's throats. Bound servants, steal;
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill† ^note 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,
And with it beat his brains out! fear and piety,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestick 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 leprosie: 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
Th' unkindest beast much kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, ye 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!* ^note [Exit. Scene SCENE changes to Timon's house. Enter Flavius, Flaminius, and Servilius.

Flam.
Hear you, good master steward, where's our master?
Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?

Fla.
Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.† ^note

Serv.
Such a house broke!
So noble a master fall'n! all gone! and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him?

Flam.
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.

Fla.
All broken implements of a ruin'd house!

3 Ser.
Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
That see I by our faces; we are fellows
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 the sea of air.

Fla.
Good fellows all,
The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you,
Where-ever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,
Let's yet be fellows: shake our heads, and say,
(As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes)
We have seen better days. Let each take some;
Nay put out all your hands; not one word more,
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.‡ ^note [He gives them money; they embrace, and part several ways.
Oh, the first 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, as 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.
Alas, kind lord!
H'as flung in rage from this ungrateful seat
Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to
Supply his life, or that which can command it:
I'll follow and enquire him out.
I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. [Exit.

Scene SCENE the woods. Enter Timon.* ^note

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 with several fortunes;
The greater scorns the lesser. Not ev'n nature,
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
But by contempt of nature.
Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, this man's a flatterer? if one be,
So are they all, for each degree 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 villainy. Then be abhorr'd,
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable,‡ ^note yea, himself, Timon disdains.—
Destruction phang† ^note mankind! earth yield me roots! [Digging the earth.
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 heav'ns! thus much of this will make
Black, white; fair, foul; wrong, right;
Base, noble: old, young; coward, valiant.
You gods! why this? what this? you gods! why, this

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides:
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions; bless th' accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosie ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench:
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, a far off.] Ha, 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 art for earnest. [Keeping some gold. Enter Alcibiades with drum and fife, in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra* ^note.

Alc.
What art thou there? speak.

Tim.
A beast as thou art. Cankers gnaw thy heart,
For shewing me again the eyes of man!

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

Tim.
I am &grm;isanthropos, and hate mankind,
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.

Alc.
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.
This fell whore of thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubim look.

Phry.
Thy lips rot off!

Tim.
I will not kiss thee, then the rot returns
To thine own lips again.

Alc.
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.

Alc.
I've heard in some sort of thy miseries.

Tim.
Thou saw'st them when I had prosperity.

Alc.
I see them now, then was a blessed time.

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

Timan.

Is this th' 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, bring down the rose-cheek'd youth
To th' tub-fast, and the diet.† ^note

Timan.
Hang thee, monster!

Alc.
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 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 pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

Alc.
I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

Tim.
How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost trouble?
I'ad rather be alone.

Alc.
Why, fare thee well,
Here's gold for thee.

Tim.
Keep it, I cannot eat it.

Alc.
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap—

Tim.
Warr'st thou against Athens?

Alc.
Ay, Timon, and have cause.

Tim.
The gods confound them all then in thy conquest,
And, after, thee, when thou hast conquered!

Alc.
Why me, Timon?

Tim.
That by killing of 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: Let not thy sword skip one,
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,
He is an usurer. Strike me the matron,
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant‡ ^note sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-lawn 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 mercy;
Swear against objects,
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes;
There's gold to pay thy soldiers.
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! speak not, be gone.

Alc.
Hast thou gold yet?
I'll take the gold thou giv'st me, not thy counsel.

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

Both.
Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?

Tim.
Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whole a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant§ ^note, you're not othable,
Although, I know, you'll swear; terribly swear
Into strong shudders, and to heav'nly agues,

* ^noteTh' 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.
Make false hair, and thatch
Your poor thin roofs with burthens of the dead,
(Some that were hang'd, no matter:—)
Wear them, betray with them; and whore on still:
Paint 'till a horse may mire upon your face;
A pox of wrinkles!† ^note

Both.
Well, more gold—what then?
Believe that we'll do any thing for gold.

Tim.
Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharp shins,
Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead.
Down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foresee
Smells from the gen'ral weal. Make curl'd pate ruffians bald,
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war,
Derive some pain from you. Plague all;
There's more gold.
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!

Both.
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon!

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

Alc.
Strike up the drum tow'rds Athens; farewel, Timon:
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

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

Alc.
I never did thee harm.

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

Alc.
Call'st thou that harm?

Tim.
Men daily find it. Get thee hence, away,
And take thy beagles with thee.

Alc.
We but offend him: strike. [Exeunt Alcibiad. Phryn. and Timand.

Tim.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast
Teems, and feeds all; oh thou! whose self-same mettle
(Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft)
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm;
With all th'abhorred births below crisp‡ ^note heav'n,
Whereon Hyperion's quickning fire doth shine;
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root
* ^noteEnsear thy fertile and conceptious womb;
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man.
Go great with tygers, 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, veins, and plough-torn leas,
Whereof ingrateful man with liqu'rish draughts,
And morsels unctious, 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 flatt'rers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these weeds,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.§ ^note
Be thou a flatt'rer 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'st cast away thyself, being like thyself,
So long a madman, now a fool. What think'st thou,
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moist 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, cawdle thy morning taste,
To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures,
Whose naked natures live in all the spight
Of wreakful heav'n, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
Oh! thou shalt find—* ^note

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 flatt'rest 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.
Do'st please thyself in't?

Apem.
Ay.

Tim.
What! a knave too?

Apem.
If thou did'st put this sour cold habit on,
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou
Dost it enforcedly: thou'dst courtier be,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Out-lives incertain pomp; is crown'd before:
The one is filling still, never complete;
The other, at high wish:
Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

Tim.
Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favour never claspt; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded
Through 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 followed
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, the hearts of men,
At duty, more than I could frame employments;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak; have with one winter's brush
Fall'n from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows. I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burthen.
Thy nature did commence in suff'rance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee. What hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,

Must be thy subject; who in spight put stuff
To some she-beggar, and compounded thee,
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone—† ^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.

Tim.
First mend my company, take away thyself.

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.

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.
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 mockt thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despis'd for the contrary. What man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means?

Tim.

Who, without those means thou talk'st of, did'st 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 confusion of men, or remain a beast with the beasts?

Apem.

Ay, Timon.

Tim.

A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to! if thou wert a 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 accus'd by the ass; if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee; and still thou liv'dst 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. 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, and seest not thy loss in transformation!‡ ^note

Apem.

If thou couldst 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 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.—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 wouldst burst!

Tim.

Away, thou tedious rogue, I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.

Apem.

Beast!

Tim.

Slave!

Apem.

Toad!

Tim.
Rogue! rogue! rogue! [Apem retreats backward, as going.
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought,
But ev'n 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! 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,
* ^noteThat lies on Dian's lap!
Oh, 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. Hence, away. [Exit Apem. Enter thieves.

1 Thief.

Where should he have this gold? the mere want of gold, and the falling off of friends, drove him into this melancholy.

2 Thief.

It is nois'd 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?

All.

Where?

2 Thief.

'Tis his description.

3 Thief.

He; I know him.

All.

Save thee, Timon.

Tim.

Now, thieves.

All.

Soldiers; not thieves.

Tim.

Both too, and women's sons.

All.

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

Tim.
Why should you want? behold, the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth an hundred springs;
The oaks bear masts, 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,† ^note
That you are thieves profest: that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascals, thieves,

Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o'th' grape,
'Till the high fever seethe 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 live together.
Do villainy, 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 mounds into salt tears.
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, for nothing can you steal,
But thieves do lose it: steal not less for what
I give, and gold confound you howsoever! Amen. [Exit. ^note End of the Fourth ACT.

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