Chapter 145
Ser. My Lord, They haue all bin touch'd, and found Base-Mettle, For they haue all denied him
Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him? Has Ventidgius and Lucullus deny'de him, And does he send to me? Three? Humh? It shewes but little loue, or iudgement in him. Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends (like Physitians) Thriue, giue him ouer: Must I take th' Cure vpon me? Has much disgrac'd me in't, I'me angry at him, That might haue knowne my place. I see no sense for't, But his Occasions might haue wooed me first: For in my conscience, I was the first man That ere receiued guift from him. And does he thinke so backwardly of me now, That Ile requite it last? No: So it may proue an Argument of Laughter To th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Foole: I'de rather then the worth of thrice the summe, Had sent to me first, but for my mindes sake: I'de such a courage to do him good. But now returne, And with their faint reply, this answer ioyne; Who bates mine Honor, shall not know my Coyne.
Exit
Ser. Excellent: Your Lordships a goodly Villain: the diuell knew not what he did, when hee made man Politicke; he crossed himselfe by't: and I cannot thinke, but in the end, the Villanies of man will set him cleere. How fairely this Lord striues to appeare foule? Takes Vertuous Copies to be wicked: like those, that vnder hotte ardent zeale, would set whole Realmes on fire, of such a nature is his politike loue. This was my Lords best hope, now all are fled Saue onely the Gods. Now his Friends are dead, Doores that were ne're acquainted with their Wards Many a bounteous yeere, must be imploy'd Now to guard sure their Master: And this is all a liberall course allowes, Who cannot keepe his wealth, must keep his house. Enter.
Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to wait for his comming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius.
Var.man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & Hortensius Tit. The like to you kinde Varro
Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together? Luci. I, and I think one businesse do's command vs all. For mine is money
Tit. So is theirs, and ours. Enter Philotus.
Luci. And sir Philotus too
Phil. Good day at once
Luci. Welcome good Brother. What do you thinke the houre? Phil. Labouring for Nine
Luci. So much? Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet? Luci. Not yet
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