Tim. Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.

Luc. Serv. Alas! my lord,

Tim. Cut my heart in sums.
Tit. Mine, fifty talents.

Tim. Tell out my blood.

Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord. Tim. Five thousand drops pays that.What yours? — and yours?

1 Var. Serv. My lord,

Luc. Serv. Flaminius! sir, a word! 'Pray, is my 2 Far. Serv. My lord, lord ready to come forth?

Hor. Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money; these debts may well be called desperate ones; for a madman owes 'em. [Exeunt. Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS.

'Tis not so base as you; for you serveknaves. [Exit. 1 Far. Serv. How! what does his cashier'd worship mutter?

2 Var. Serv. No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader, than he that has no house to put his head in? such may rail against great buildings.

Ser. If I might beseech you, gentlemen,
To repair some other hour, I should much
Derive from it: for, take it on my soul,
My lord leans woud'rously to discontent.
His comfortable temper has forsook him;
He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
Luc. Serv, Many do keep their chambers, are not

Is valour misbegot, and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born:
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs
His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly;
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.

If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill,
What folly 'tis, to hazard life for ill?
Alcib. My lord,-

1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look clear; To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me,
If I speak like a captain.-

Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threatenings? sleep upon it,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats
Without repugnancy? but if there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? why then, women are more valiant,
That stay at home, if bearing carry it;

And th' ass, more captain, than the lion; the felon,
Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge,
If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
As you are great, be pitifully good:

Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;
But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
To be in anger, is impiety;
But who is man, that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.

2 Sen. You breathe in vain. Alcib. In vain? his service done At Lacedaemon, and Byzantium,

Were a sufficient briber for his life.

1 Sen. What's that?

'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect:
We banish thee for ever.

Alcib. Banish me?

Banish your dotage; banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly.

1 Sen. If, after two days' shine, Athens contain thee,

Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit,

He shall be executed presently. [Exeunt Senators. Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live

Only in bone, that none may look on you!

I am worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
While they have told their money, and let out
Their coin upon large interest; I myself
Rich only in large hurts. All those, for this?
Is this the balsam, that the usuring senate
Pours into captains' wounds? ha! banishment?
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd;
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
'Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods.

[Exit.

SCENE VI. A magnificent room in TiMox's house.
Music. Tables set out: Servants attending.
Enter divers Lords, at several doors.

1 Lord. The good time of day to you, sir!
2 Lord. I also wish it to you! I think, this honour-
able lord did but try us this other day.

1 Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tiring, when we encountered. I hope, it is not so low with him, as he made it seem in the trial of his several

Alcib. Why, I say, my lords, h'as done fair service, friends.
And slain in fight many of your enemies:

How full of valour did he bear himself

In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds?
2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with 'em, he
Is a sworn rioter: h'as a sin, that often

Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner:

If there were no foes, that were enough alone

To overcome him: in that beastly fury

He has been known to commit outrages,

And cherish factions. "Tis infer'd to us,

His days are foul, and his drink dangerous. 1 Sen. He dies.

Alcib, Hard fate! he might have died in war.
My lords, if not for any parts in him,

(Though his right arm might purchase his own time,
And be in debt to none,) yet, more to move you,
Take my deserts to his, and join them both:
And, for I know, your reverend ages love
Security, I'll pawn my victories, all
My honour to you, upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

1 Sen. We are for law, he dies; urge it no more,
On height of our displeasure. Friend, or brother,
He forfeits his own blood, that spills another.
Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.

2 Sen. How?

2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

1 Lord. I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyoud them, and I must needs appear.

2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out.

1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.

2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of you?

1 Lord. A thousand pieces.

2 Lord. A thousand pieces!
1 Lord. What of you?

2 Lord. He sent to me, sir, here he comes.

Enter TIMON and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both:how fare you?

and

1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer more willing, than we your lordship.

Tim. [Aside.] Nor more willingly leaves winter; such summer-birds are men. - Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the music awhile; if they will fare so harshly on the trumpet's sound: we shall to't pre

Alcib. I cannot think, but your age has forgot me; sently.
It could not else be, I should prove so base,

To sue, and be denied such common grace:
My wounds ache at you.

1 Sen. Do you dare our anger?

1 Lord. I hope, it remains not unkindly with your lordship, that I returned you an empty messenger. Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you.

2 Lord. My noble lord,

2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours before, Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. - Come, bring in all together!

2 Lord. All covered dishes!

1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you.

[ACT IV.

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Burn house; sink Athens! henceforth hated be
Of Timon, man, and all humanity!
Re-enter the Lords, with other Lords and Senators.
[Exit.
1 Lord. How now, my lords?

2 Lord. Know you the quality of lord Timon's
fury?

3 Lord. Pish! did you see my cap?
4 Lord. I have lost my gown.

3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nought bat hu-
mour sways him. He gave me a jewel the other
day, and how he has beat it out of my hat. - Did

3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money, and the season you see my jewel? can yield it.

1 Lord. How do you? What's the news?

S Lord. Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?

1 et 2 Lord. Alcibiades bauished!

$ Lord. 'Tis so, be sure of it.

1 Lord. How? how?

2 Lord. I pray you, upon what?

Tim. My worthy friends, will yon draw near?

8 Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble

feast toward,

2 Lord. This is the old man still.

S Lord. Will't hold? will't hold?

2 Lord. It does: but time will—and so$ Lord. I do conceive.

Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress: your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, sit! The gods require our thanks!

4 Lord. Did you see my cap?

2 Lord. Here 'tis.

4 Lord. Here lies my gown.

1 Lord. Let's make no stay.
2 Lord. Lord Timon's mad.

3 Lord. I feel't upon my bones.

4 Lord. One day he gives us diamonds, next day

stones.

SCENE I.

IT.

[Exeuni.

ACT
Without the walls of Athens.
Enter TMox.

That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth, Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall, And fence not Athens! Matrous, 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 You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with Convert o'the instant green virginity! thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves Do't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; praised; but reserve still to give, lest your deities Rather than render back, out with your knives, be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, need not lend to another: for, were your gedheads steal! to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat to beloved, more than the man that gives it. Let no astenila of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sut twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are.rest of your fees, ✪ ge—the senators of Athens, together with the cormon lag of people, what is amiss in them, you pixie, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, -as they are to me nothing, so in noting Less them, and to nothing they are welcome.

Uncover. Cogs, and lap.

- The

The dither uncovered are full of warm water.
Some speak. What does his lordship mean?
Some other. I know not.

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Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
Aud pill by law! maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o'the brothel! son of sixteen,
Pluck'd the liu'd crutch from the old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And yet confusion ♥ !—Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
On Athens, ripe for stroke! thon cold sciatica,
As lamely, as their manners! lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
Sow all the Atheniau bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath;
That their society, as their friendship, may
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
Take thou that too, with multiplying banns!
The unkindest beast more kinder, than mankind.
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high, and lor!
and Amen!

T.m. May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-hiends! smoke, and lukewarm

water

Is your perfectica. This is Timon's last;
Who stack and spangled you with flatteries,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces

Throwing water in their faces.
Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd, and loug,
Mestraling, smooth, detested parasites,
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies,
Cap aud knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!
Of man, and beast, the infinite malady
Crust you quite o'er! — What, dost thon go?
Soft, take thy physic first,
thon too,
thou:
[Throws the dishes at them, and drives

Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate

I am as poor as you.

1 Serv. Such a house broke!

So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not
One friend, to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him!

2 Serv. 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.

The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,
Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,
We have seen better days. Let each take some;
[Giving them money.
Not one word more:
parting poor.
[Exeunt Servants.
O, the fierce 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? or to live
But in a dream of friendship?

Nay, put out all your hands.
Thus part we rich in sorrow,

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!
Who then dares to be half so kind again?

Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. [Exit. Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves
For tubs, and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth
To the tub-fast, and the diet.

Timan. Hang thee, monster!

Into strong shadders, and to heavenly agnes,
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, barn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no tarncoats: yet may your pains, six months,
Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs
With burdens of the dead; - some that were hing'd,
No matter:-wear them, betray with them: where
still;

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's some gold for thee.

Tim. Keep't, I cannot eat it.

Paint, till a horse may mire upon your face:
A pox of wrinkles!

Phr. et Timan. Well, more gold; what then?-
Believe't, that we'll do any thing 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 ruf-
fians 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,

Aleib. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,- And ditches grave you all!
Tum. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause.

Tim.The gods confound them all i'thy conquest; and
Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
Alcib. Why me, Timon?

Tim. That,

By killing 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's 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 milkpaps,
That through the window-bars 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;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Pat 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. et 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 aprous mountant: you are not oathable,—— Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear,

Phr. et Timun. More counsel with more money, bounteous 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.

Alcib, Call'st thou that harm?

Tim. Meu daily find it such. Get thee away,
And take thy beagles with thee!
Alcib. We but offend him.
Strike!

--

puf'd,

root!

Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man,
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
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and hears;
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented!-0, 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!

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