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
The tub-fast and the diet.

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 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 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:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,

He is 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,

But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;

Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Put 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!

Phr. and 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;
your close fire predominate his smoke,

Let

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!

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,
That he may never more false title plead,

Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh

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:-
Do you damn others and let this damn you,

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.
Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.

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.
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 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 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,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste

To cure thy o'ernight'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.

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

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
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 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 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.

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,
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.