Timan. Is this the Athenian minion whom the world Voic'd so regardfully? Tim. Timan. Yes. Art thou Timandra? 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 rose-cheek'd youth to Timan. Hang thee, monster! Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, Alcib. Why, fare thee well: Here is some gold for thee. Tim. Keep it, 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 in thy conquest; And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! Alcib. 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: He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron: Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps, But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe, Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, 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. and Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more? Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, Let And be no turncoats: yet may your pains six months A pox of wrinkles! Phr. and Timan. Well, more gold.—What then?— Believ't, that we'll do anything for gold. Tim. Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen, And not believes himself: down with the nose, Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away Of him that, his particular to foresee, Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate ruffians bald; And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you: plague all; That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection.-There's more gold:- And ditches grave you all! Phr. and Timan. More counsel with more money, bounte ous 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. Call'st thou that harm? Alcib. Alcib. We but offend him.-Strike! [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIB., PHR., and TIM. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou, [Digging. Teems and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, 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 From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bid welcome, 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, That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? call the creatures,—— Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, Answer mere nature,-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. Apem. Tim. Why? Thou flatter'st misery. To vex thee. Apem. I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff. Tim. Why dost thou seek me out? Арет. Tim. Always a villain's office or a fool's. Dost please thyself in't? Apem. Tim. Ay. What! a knave too? Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable. Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men? If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, Apem. Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. Apem. No prodigal. Tim. Art thou proud yet? I, that I was I, that I am one now: Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, [Eating a root. |