Timandra.
Tim.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry!—Common mother, thou,
[Digging.
Whose womb unmeasurable, 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;
Yield him, who all the 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; 11Q0957
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts,
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips——3 note
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!
-- 566 --
Apem.
This is in thee a nature but infected;
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
From change of fortune4 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, 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 bade welcome,
To knaves, and all approachers: 'tis most just,
That thou turn rascal; had'st 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 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 moist trees,
That have outliv'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—
Tim.
A fool of thee. Depart.
-- 567 --
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.
Tim.
Always a villain's office, or a fool's.
Dost please thyself in't?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
What! a knave too?
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:
The one is filling still, never complete,
The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse than the worst, content.
Thou should'st 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 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 would'st have plung'd thyself
In general riot; 11Q0958 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
-- 568 --
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 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 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.
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 company5 note, 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 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.
-- 569 --
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 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 medlar?
Tim.
Ay, though it look like thee.
Apem.
An thou hadst hated meddlers 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
-- 570 --
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 should'st 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 would'st be killed by the
horse: wert thou a horse, thou would'st 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 could'st 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 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.
Tim.
Would thou wert clean 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.—
I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
-- 571 --
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't.
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 sire6 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! 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 hearts7 note!
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue
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'st gold:
-- 572 --
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 men8 note?—Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
Enter Banditti.
1 Band.
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. 11Q0959
2 Band.
It is noised, he hath a mass of treasure.
3 Band.
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 Band.
True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.
1 Band.
Is not this he?
All.
Where?
2 Band.
'Tis his description.
3 Band.
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.
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 briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?
-- 573 --
1 Band.
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 con9 note,
That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions10 note. Rascal thieves,
Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the 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 lives together;
Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't1 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: the earth'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 less2 note, for this
I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.
[Timon retires to his Cave.
-- 574 --
3 Band.
He has almost charmed me from my profession,
by persuading me to it.
1 Band.
'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus
advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
2 Band.
I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over
my trade.
1 Band.
Let us first see peace in Athens: there is
no time so miserable, but a man may be true.
[Exeunt Banditti3 note.
Enter Flavius.
Flav.
O you gods!
Is yond' 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?
Flav.
Have you forgot me, sir?
Tim.
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man4 note, I have forgot thee.
Flav.
An honest poor servant of yours.
-- 575 --
Tim.
Then, I know thee not:
I never had honest man about me, I;
All I kept were knaves, 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:
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!
Flav.
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
T' 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,
You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man,—mistake me not,—but one;
No more, I pray,—and he's 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 kindness; and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
-- 576 --
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;
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 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing. Be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so, farewell, and thrive.
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.
-- 577 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
