Chapter II: Part 2

Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen

Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him: You must consider, that a Prodigall course Is like the Sunnes, but not like his recouerable, I feare: 'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that is: One may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little

Phil. I am of your feare, for that

Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent:
Your Lord sends now for Money?
Hort. Most true, he doe's

Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift,
For which I waite for money

Hort. It is against my heart

Luci. Marke how strange it showes, Timon in this, should pay more then he owes: And e'ne as if your Lord should weare rich Iewels, And send for money for 'em

Hort. I'me weary of this Charge, The Gods can witnesse: I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth, And now Ingratitude, makes it worse then stealth

Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes:
What's yours?
Luci. Fiue thousand mine

Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sum Your Masters confidence was aboue mine, Else surely his had equall'd. Enter Flaminius.

Tit. One of Lord Timons men

Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readie
to come forth?
Flam. No, indeed he is not

Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much

Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent.
Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.

Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so?
He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him

Tit. Do you heare, sir?
2.Varro. By your leaue, sir

Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend

Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir

Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting, 'Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not your summes and Billes When your false Masters eate of my Lords meat? Then they could smile, and fawne vpon his debts. And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes. You do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp, Let me passe quietly: Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end, I haue no more to reckon, he to spend

Luci. I, but this answer will not serue

Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you,
For you serue Knaues

1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship mutter? 2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge enough. Who can speake broader, then hee that has no house to put his head in? Such may rayle against great buildings. Enter Seruilius.

Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some
answere

Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre some other houre, I should deriue much from't. For tak't of my soule, my Lord leanes wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's much out of health, and keepes his Chamber

Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke: And if it be so farre beyond his health, Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a cleere way to the Gods

Seruil. Good Gods

Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir

Flaminius within. Seruilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord.
Enter Timon in a rage.

Tim. What, are my dores oppos'd against my passage? Haue I bin euer free, and must my house Be my retentiue Enemy? My Gaole? The place which I haue Feasted, does it now (Like all Mankinde) shew me an Iron heart? Luci. Put in now Titus

Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill

Luci. Here's mine

1.Var. And mine, my Lord

2.Var. And ours, my Lord

Philo. All our Billes

Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to the
Girdle

Luc. Alas, my Lord

Tim. Cut my heart in summes

Tit. Mine, fifty Talents

Tim. Tell out my blood

Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord

Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that.
What yours? and yours?
1.Var. My Lord

2.Var. My Lord

Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.

Exit Timon.

Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their caps at their money, these debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

Exeunt.

Enter Timon.

Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the
slaues. Creditors? Diuels

Stew. My deere Lord

Tim. What if it should be so?
Stew. My Lord

Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward?
Stew. Heere my Lord

Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All, Ile once more feast the Rascals

Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted soule; there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate Table

Tim. Be it not in thy care: Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide Of Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide.

Exeunt.

Enter three Senators at one doore, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants

1.Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't, The faults Bloody: 'Tis necessary he should dye: Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy

2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em

Alc. Honor, health, and compassion to the Senate

1 Now Captaine

Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues; For pitty is the vertue of the Law, And none but Tyrants vse it cruelly. It pleases time and Fortune to lye heauie Vpon a Friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stept into the Law: which is past depth To those that (without heede) do plundge intoo't. He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of comely Vertues, Nor did he soyle the fact with Cowardice. (And Honour in him, which buyes out his fault) But with a Noble Fury, and faire spirit, Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death, He did oppose his Foe: And with such sober and vnnoted passion He did behooue his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prou'd an Argument

1.Sen. You vndergo too strict a Paradox, Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire: Your words haue tooke such paines, as if they labour'd To bring Man-slaughter into forme, and set Quarrelling Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions were newly borne. Hee's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breath, And make his Wrongs, his Out-sides, To weare them like his Rayment, carelessely, And ne're preferre his iniuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill

Alci. My Lord

1.Sen. You cannot make grosse sinnes looke cleare,
To reuenge is no Valour, but to beare

Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me, If I speake like a Captaine. Why do fond men expose themselues to Battell, And not endure all threats? Sleepe vpon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant That stay at home, if Bearing carry it: And the Asse, more Captaine then the Lyon? The fellow loaden with Irons, wiser then the Iudge? If Wisedome be in suffering. Oh my Lords, As you are great, be pittifully Good, Who cannot condemne rashnesse in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sinnes extreamest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most iust. To be in Anger, is impietie: But who is Man, that is not Angrie. Weigh but the Crime with this

2.Sen. You breath in vaine

Alci. In vaine? His seruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life

1 What's that? Alc. Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice, And slaine in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he beare himselfe In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds? 2 He has made too much plenty with him: He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no Foes, that were enough To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie, He has bin knowne to commit outrages, And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs, His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous

1 He dyes

Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre. My Lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arme might purchase his owne time, And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you, Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both. And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security, Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you Vpon his good returnes. If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more

1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother, He forfeits his owne blood, that spilles another

Alc. Must it be so? It must not bee:
My Lords, I do beseech you know mee

2 How?
Alc. Call me to your remembrances

3 What

Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me, It could not else be, I should proue so bace, To sue and be deny'de such common Grace. My wounds ake at you

1 Do you dare our anger? 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for euer

Alc. Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish vsurie, That makes the Senate vgly

1 If after two dayes shine, Athens containe thee, Attend our waightier Iudgement. And not to swell our Spirit, He shall be executed presently.

Exeunt.

Alc. Now the Gods keepe you old enough, That you may liue Onely in bone, that none may looke on you. I'm worse then mad: I haue kept backe their Foes While they haue told their Money, and let out Their Coine vpon large interest. I my selfe, Rich onely in large hurts. All those, for this? Is this the Balsome, that the vsuring Senat Powres into Captaines wounds? Banishment. It comes not ill: I hate not to be banisht, It is a cause worthy my Spleene and Furie, That I may strike at Athens. Ile cheere vp My discontented Troopes, and lay for hearts; 'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at ods, Souldiers should brooke as little wrongs as Gods. Enter.

Enter diuers Friends at seuerall doores.

1 The good time of day to you, sir

2 I also wish it to you: I thinke this Honorable Lord
did but try vs this other day

1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee encountred. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seeme in the triall of his seuerall Friends

2 It should not be, by the perswasion of his new Feasting

1 I should thinke so. He hath sent mee an earnest inuiting, which many my neere occasions did vrge mee to put off: but he hath coniur'd mee beyond them, and I must needs appeare

2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat businesse, but he would not heare my excuse. I am sorrie, when he sent to borrow of mee, that my Prouision was out

1 I am sicke of that greefe too, as I vnderstand how all
things go

2 Euery man heares so: what would hee haue borrowed
of you?
1 A thousand Peeces

2 A thousand Peeces?
1 What of you?
2 He sent to me sir- Heere he comes.
Enter Timon and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how
fare you?
1 Euer at the best, hearing well of your Lordship

2 The Swallow followes not Summer more willing,
then we your Lordship

Tim. Nor more willingly leaues Winter, such Summer Birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompence this long stay: Feast your eares with the Musicke awhile: If they will fare so harshly o'th' Trumpets sound: we shall too't presently

1 I hope it remaines not vnkindely with your Lordship,
that I return'd you an empty Messenger

Tim. O sir, let it not trouble you

2 My Noble Lord

Tim. Ah my good Friend, what cheere?

The Banket brought in.

2 My most Honorable Lord, I am e'ne sick of shame, that when your Lordship this other day sent to me, I was so vnfortunate a Beggar

Tim. Thinke not on't, sir

2 If you had sent but two houres before

Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
Come bring in all together

2 All couer'd Dishes

1 Royall Cheare, I warrant you

3 Doubt not that, if money and the season can yeild it
1 How do you? What's the newes?
3 Alcibiades is banish'd: heare you of it?
Both. Alcibiades banish'd?
3 'Tis so, be sure of it

1 How? How?
2 I pray you vpon what?
Tim. My worthy Friends, will you draw neere?
3 Ile tell you more anon. Here's a Noble feast toward
2 This is the old man still

3 Wilt hold? Wilt hold?
2 It do's: but time will, and so

3 I do conceyue

Tim. Each man to his stoole, with that spurre as hee would to the lip of his Mistris: your dyet shall bee in all places alike. Make not a Citie Feast of it, to let the meat coole, ere we can agree vpon the first place. Sit, sit. The Gods require our Thankes. You great Benefactors, sprinkle our Society with Thankefulnesse. For your owne guifts, make your selues prais'd: But reserue still to giue, least your Deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one neede not lend to another. For were your Godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the Gods. Make the Meate be beloued, more then the Man that giues it. Let no Assembly of Twenty, be without a score of Villaines. If there sit twelue Women at the Table, let a dozen of them bee as they are. The rest of your Fees, O Gods, the Senators of Athens, together with the common legge of People, what is amisse in them, you Gods, make suteable for destruction. For these my present Friends, as they are to mee nothing, so in nothing blesse them, and to nothing are they welcome. Vncouer Dogges, and lap

Some speake. What do's his Lordship meane?
Some other. I know not

Timon. May you a better Feast neuer behold You knot of Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timons last, Who stucke and spangled you with Flatteries, Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villany. Liue loath'd, and long Most smiling, smooth, detested Parasites, Curteous Destroyers, affable Wolues, meeke Beares: You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flyes, Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Iackes. Of Man and Beast, the infinite Maladie Crust you quite o're. What do'st thou go? Soft, take thy Physicke first; thou too, and thou: Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none. What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feast, Whereat a Villaine's not a welcome Guest. Burne house, sinke Athens, henceforth hated be Of Timon Man, and all Humanity.

Exit

Enter the Senators, with other Lords.

1 How now, my Lords?
2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury?
3 Push, did you see my Cap?
4 I haue lost my Gowne

1 He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humors swaies him. He gaue me a Iewell th' other day, and now hee has beate it out of my hat. Did you see my Iewell? 2 Did you see my Cap

3 Heere 'tis

4 Heere lyes my Gowne

1 Let's make no stay

2 Lord Timons mad

3 I feel't vpon my bones

4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt. the Senators.

Enter Timon.

Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall That girdles in those Wolues, diue in the earth, And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne incontinent, Obedience fayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench, And minister in their steeds, to generall Filthes. Conuert o'th' Instant greene Virginity, Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast Rather then render backe; out with your Kniues, And cut your Trusters throates. Bound Seruants, steale, Large-handed Robbers your graue Masters are, And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed, Thy Mistris is o'th' Brothell. Some of sixteen, Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old limping Sire, With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare, Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iustice, Truth, Domesticke awe, Night-rest, and Neighbourhood, Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades, Degrees, Obseruances, Customes, and Lawes, Decline to your confounding contraries. And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious Feauors, heape On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold Sciatica, Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt As lamely as their Manners. Lust, and Libertie Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth, That 'gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue, And drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines, So we all th' Athenian bosomes, and their crop Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath, That their Society (as their Friendship) may Be meerely poyson. Nothing Ile beare from thee But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne, Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes: Timon will to the Woods, where he shall finde Th' vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde. The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all) Th' Athenians both within and out that Wall: And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low. Amen. Enter.

Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.

1 Heare you M[aster]. Steward, where's our Master? Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining? Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as you

1 Such a House broke? So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme, And go along with him

2 As we do turne our backes From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre, With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes. Enter other Seruants.

Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house

3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke, And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke, Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part Into this Sea of Ayre

Stew. Good Fellowes all, The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you. Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake, Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.

Embrace and part seuerall wayes.

Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt? Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue But in a Dreame of Friendship, To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good. Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord) Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends: Nor ha's he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it: Ile follow and enquire him out. Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still. Enter.

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity: below thy Sisters Orbe Infect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe, Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes, The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature (To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great Fortune But by contempt of Nature. Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord, The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary, The Begger Natiue Honor. It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides, The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares In puritie of Manhood stand vpright And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be, So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate Duckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie: There's nothing leuell in our cursed Natures But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd, All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men. His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines, Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes, Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate With thy most operant Poyson. What is heere? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold? No Gods, I am no idle Votarist, Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make Blacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right; Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant. Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this Will lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides: Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads. This yellow Slaue, Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th' accurst, Make the hoare Leprosie ador'd, place Theeues, And giue them Title, knee, and approbation With Senators on the Bench: This is it That makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe; Shee, whom the Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores, Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices To'th' Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth, Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddes Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee Do thy right Nature.

March afarre off.

Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke, But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe) When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand: Nay stay thou out for earnest. Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra.

Alc. What art thou there? speake

Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart
For shewing me againe the eyes of Man

Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee, That art thy selfe a Man? Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge, That I might loue thee something

Alc. I know thee well:
But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange

Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme, With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules: Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell, Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine, Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword, For all her Cherubin looke

Phrin. Thy lips rot off

Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes
To thine owne lippes againe

Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change?
Tim. As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue:
But then renew I could not like the Moone,
There were no Sunnes to borrow of

Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?
Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion

Alc. What is it Timon? Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none. If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou art a man: if thou do'st performe, confound thee, for thou art a man

Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries

Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie

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 loue thee not that vse thee, giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make vse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes and Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast, and the Diet

Timan. Hang thee Monster

Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd and lost in his Calamities. I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon, The want whereof, doth dayly make reuolt In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd How cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them

Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone

Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon

Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble,
I had rather be alone

Alc. Why fare thee well:
Heere is some Gold for thee

Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it

Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape

Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens

Alc. I Timon, and haue cause

Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest,
And thee after, when thou hast Conquer'd

Alc. Why me, Timon? Tim. That by killing of Villaines Thou was't borne to conquer my Country. Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on; Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue Will o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyson In the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one: Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard, He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron, It is her habite onely, that is honest, Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke Make soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappes That through the window Barne bore at mens eyes, Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ, But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe Whose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy; Thinke it a Bastard, whom the Oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects, Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes, Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes, Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a iot. There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers, Make large confusion: and thy fury spent, Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone

Alc. Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest
me, not all thy Counsell

Tim. Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon
thee

Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more? Tim. Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade, And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable, Although I know you'l sweare, terribly sweare Into strong shudders, and to heauenly Agues Th' immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes: Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still. And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you, Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp, Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six months Be quite contrary, And Thatch Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead, (Some that were hang'd) no matter: Weare them, betray with them; Whore still, Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face: A pox of wrinkles

Both. Well, more Gold, what then?
Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold

Tim. Consumptions sowe In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes, And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce, That he may neuer more false Title pleade, Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen, That scold'st against the quality of flesh, And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose, Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away Of him, that his particular to foresee Smels from the generall weale. Make curl'd pate Ruffians bald And let the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the Warre Deriue some paine from you. Plague all, That your Actiuity may defeate and quell The sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold. Do you damne others, and let this damne you, And ditches graue you all

Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous
Timon

Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen
you earnest

Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell
Timon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe

Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more

Alc. I neuer did thee harme

Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me

Alc. Call'st thou that harme?
Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away,
And take thy Beagles with thee

Alc. We but offend him, strike.

Exeunt.

Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brest Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft, Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew, The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme, With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen, Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine: Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate, From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote: Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe, Let it no more bring out ingratefull man. Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares, Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward face Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes: Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde, That from it all Consideration slippes- Enter Apemantus.

More man? Plague, plague

Ape. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them

Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee

Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft, Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a Carper. Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine, And call it excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust That thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe, Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse

Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe

Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'st That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees, That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes, To the conflicting Elements expos'd Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt finde

Tim. A Foole of thee: depart

Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did

Tim. I hate thee worse

Ape. Why?
Tim. Thou flatter'st misery

Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe

Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out?
Ape. To vex thee

Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles.
Dost please thy selfe in't?
Ape. I

Tim. What, a Knaue too? Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againe Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before: The one is filling still, neuer compleat: The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse then the worst, Content. Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge. Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded, The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords, To such as may the passiue drugges of it Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd The Icie precepts of respect, but followed The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe, Who had the world as my Confectionarie, The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, At duty more then I could frame employment; That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare, For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this, That neuer knew but better, is some burthen: Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men? They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen? If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge) Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone, If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men, Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer

Ape. Art thou proud yet?
Tim. I, that I am not thee

Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall

Tim. I, that I am one now. Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee, I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone: That the whole life of Athens were in this, Thus would I eate it

Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast

Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe

Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by'th' lacke of thine
Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht;
If not, I would it were

Ape. What would'st thou haue to Athens?
Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt,
Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue

Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold

Tim. The best, and truest:
For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme

Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon?
Tim. Vnder that's aboue me.
Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?
Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather
where I eate it

Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind
Ape. Where would'st thou send it?
Tim. To sawce thy dishes

Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest, but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not

Ape. Do'st hate a Medler?
Tim. I, though it looke like thee

Ape. And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'st
haue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd'st thou
euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes!
Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk'st of, didst
thou euer know belou'd?
Ape. My selfe

Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes to
keepe a Dogge

Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest
compare to thy Flatterers?
Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things
themselues. What would'st thou do with the world Apemantus,
if it lay in thy power?
Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men

Tim. Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion
of men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts

Ape. I Timon

Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt thee t' attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse: If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee; and still thou liu'dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee, & oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What Beast could'st thou bee, that were not subiect to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already, that seest not thy losse in transformation

Ape. If thou could'st please me With speaking to me, thou might'st Haue hit vpon it heere. The Commonwealth of Athens, is become A Forrest of Beasts

Tim. How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou art
out of the Citie

Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter: The plague of Company light vpon thee: I will feare to catch it, and giue way. When I know not what else to do, Ile see thee againe

Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee, Thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a Beggers Dogge, Then Apemantus

Ape. Thou art the Cap
Of all the Fooles aliue

Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough
To spit vpon

Ape. A plague on thee,
Thou art too bad to curse

Tim. All Villaines
That do stand by thee, are pure

Ape. There is no Leprosie,
But what thou speak'st

Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;
But I should infect my hands

Ape. I would my tongue
Could rot them off

Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge, Choller does kill me, That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee

Ape. Would thou would'st burst

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

Ape. Beast

Tim. Slaue

Ape. Toad

Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought But euen the meere necessities vpon't: Then Timon presently prepare thy graue: Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph, That death in me, at others liues may laugh. O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars, Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated Snow That lyes on Dians lap. Thou visible God, That souldrest close Impossibilities, And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie Tongue To euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts, Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts May haue the world in Empire

Ape. Would 'twere so, But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold: Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly

Tim. Throng'd too?
Ape. I

Tim. Thy backe I prythee

Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery

Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit

Ape. Mo things like men,
Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Exit Apeman[tus].

Enter the Bandetti.

1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meere want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, droue him into this Melancholly

2 It is nois'd
He hath a masse of Treasure

3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't, he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how shall's get it? 2 True: for he beares it not about him: 'Tis hid

1 Is not this hee?
All. Where?
2 'Tis his description

3 He? I know him

All. Saue thee Timon

Tim. Now Theeues

All. Soldiers, not Theeues

Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes

All. We are not Theeues, but men
That much do want

Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat: Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes: Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs: The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps, The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush, Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want? 1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water, As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes

Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes, You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con, That you are Theeues profest: that you worke not In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft In limited Professions. Rascall Theeues Heere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th' Grape, Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian, His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together, Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo't. Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery: The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction Robbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe, And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne. The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe. The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away, Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates, All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go, Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you, And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen

3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswading
me to it

1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises
vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery

2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,
And giue ouer my Trade

1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so
miserable, but a man may be true.

Exit Theeues.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew. Oh you Gods! Is yon'd despis'd and ruinous man my Lord? Full of decay and fayling? Oh Monument And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd! What an alteration of Honor has desp'rate want made? What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends, Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends. How rarely does it meete with this times guise, When man was wisht to loue his Enemies: Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo. Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefe vnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life. My deerest Master

Tim. Away: what art thou?
Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir?
Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men.
Then, if thou grunt'st, th'art a man.
I haue forgot thee

Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours

Tim. Then I know thee not: I neuer had honest man about me, I all I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines

Stew. The Gods are witnesse, Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you

Tim. What, dost thou weepe? Come neerer, then I loue thee Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Flinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue, But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping: Strange times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping

Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord, T' accept my greefe, and whil'st this poore wealth lasts, To entertaine me as your Steward still

Tim. Had I a Steward So true, so iust, and now so comfortable? It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde. Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man Was borne of woman. Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse You perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaime One honest man: Mistake me not, but one: No more I pray, and hee's a Steward. How faine would I haue hated all mankinde, And thou redeem'st thy selfe. But all saue thee, I fell with Curses. Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise: For, by oppressing and betraying mee, Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice: For many so arriue at second Masters, Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true, (For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure) Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous, If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts, Expecting in returne twenty for one? Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late: You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast. Suspect still comes, where an estate is least. That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue, Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde; Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it, My most Honour'd Lord, For any benefit that points to mee, Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange For this one wish, that you had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich your selfe

Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man, Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy, But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men: Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none, But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone, Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods, And so farewell, and thriue

Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master

Tim. If thou hat'st Curses Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free: Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee.

Exit

Enter Poet, and Painter.

Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre
where he abides

Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the Rumor hold for true, That hee's so full of Gold? Painter. Certaine. Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity. 'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward A mighty summe

Poet. Then this breaking of his, Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends? Painter. Nothing else: You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe, And flourish with the highest: Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues To him, in this suppos'd distresse of his: It will shew honestly in vs, And is very likely, to loade our purposes With what they trauaile for, If it be a iust and true report, that goes Of his hauing

Poet. What haue you now To present vnto him? Painter. Nothing at this time But my Visitation: onely I will promise him An excellent Peece

Poet. I must serue him so too;
Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him

Painter. Good as the best. Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th' Time; It opens the eyes of Expectation. Performance, is euer the duller for his acte, And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people, The deede of Saying is quite out of vse. To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable; Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement That makes it. Enter Timon from his Caue.

Timon. Excellent Workeman, Thou canst not paint a man so badde As is thy selfe

Poet. I am thinking What I shall say I haue prouided for him: It must be a personating of himselfe: A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity, With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries That follow youth and opulencie

Timon. Must thou needes Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke? Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men? Do so, I haue Gold for thee

Poet. Nay let's seeke him. Then do we sinne against our owne estate, When we may profit meete, and come too late

Painter. True: When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night; Finde what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light. Come

Tim. Ile meete you at the turne: What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede? 'Tis thou that rigg'st the Barke, and plow'st the Fome, Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue, To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye: Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay. Fit I meet them

Poet. Haile worthy Timon

Pain. Our late Noble Master

Timon. Haue I once liu'd To see two honest men? Poet. Sir: Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted, Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off, Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits) Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough. What, to you, Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couet The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude With any size of words

Timon. Let it go, Naked men may see't the better: You that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seene, and knowne

Pain. He, and my selfe Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts, And sweetly felt it

Timon. I, you are honest man

Painter. We are hither come
To offer you our seruice

Timon. Most honest men: Why how shall I requite you? Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no? Both. What we can do, Wee'l do to do you seruice

Tim. Y'are honest men, Y'haue heard that I haue Gold, I am sure you haue, speake truth, y'are honest men

Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore
Came not my Friend, nor I

Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfet Best in all Athens, th'art indeed the best, Thou counterfet'st most liuely

Pain. So, so, my Lord

Tim. E'ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction, Why thy Verse swels with stuffe so fine and smooth, That thou art euen Naturall in thine Art. But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends) I must needs say you haue a little fault, Marry 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much paines to mend

Both. Beseech your Honour
To make it knowne to vs

Tim. You'l take it ill

Both. Most thankefully, my Lord

Timon. Will you indeed?
Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord

Tim. There's neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue,
That mightily deceiues you

Both. Do we, my Lord? Tim. I, and you heare him cogge, See him dissemble, Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him, Keepe in your bosome, yet remaine assur'd That he's a made-vp-Villaine

Pain. I know none such, my Lord

Poet. Nor I

Timon. Looke you, I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold Rid me these Villaines from your companies; Hang them, or stab them, drowne them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, Ile giue you Gold enough

Both. Name them my Lord, let's know them

Tim. You that way, and you this: But two in Company: Each man a part, all single, and alone, Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company: If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be, Come not neere him. If thou would'st not recide But where one Villaine is, then him abandon. Hence, packe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues: You haue worke for me; there's payment, hence, You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that: Out Rascall dogges.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, and two Senators.

Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon: For he is set so onely to himselfe, That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man, Is friendly with him

1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue. It is our part and promise to th' Athenians To speake with Timon

2.Sen. At all times alike Men are not still the same: 'twas Time and Greefes That fram'd him thus. Time with his fairer hand, Offering the Fortunes of his former dayes, The former man may make him: bring vs to him And chanc'd it as it may

Stew. Heere is his Caue: Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon, Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th' Athenians By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee: Speake to them Noble Timon. Enter Timon out of his Caue.

Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne, Speake and be hang'd: For each true word, a blister, and each false Be as a Cantherizing to the root o'th' Tongue, Consuming it with speaking

1 Worthy Timon

Tim. Of none but such as you,
And you of Timon

1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon