Chapter 146

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