Chapter 147

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

Tim. I thanke them, And would send them backe the plague, Could I but catch it for them

1 O forget What we are sorry for our selues in thee: The Senators, with one consent of loue, Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye For thy best vse and wearing

2 They confesse Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse; Which now the publike Body, which doth sildome Play the recanter, feeling in it selfe A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall Of it owne fall, restraining ayde to Timon, And send forth vs, to make their sorrowed render, Together, with a recompence more fruitfull Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme, I euen such heapes and summes of Loue and Wealth, As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee the figures of their loue, Euer to read them thine

Tim. You witch me in it; Surprize me to the very brinke of teares; Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes, And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators

1 Therefore so please thee to returne with vs, And of our Athens, thine and ours to take The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes, Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name Liue with Authoritie: so soone we shall driue backe Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild, Who like a Bore too sauage, doth root vp His Countries peace

2 And shakes his threatning Sword Against the walles of Athens

1 Therefore Timon

Tim. Well sir, I will: therefore I will sir thus: If Alcibiades kill my Countrymen, Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, That Timon cares not. But if he sacke faire Athens, And take our goodly aged men by'th' Beards, Giuing our holy Virgins to the staine Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre: Then let him know, and tell him Timon speakes it, In pitty of our aged, and our youth, I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, And let him tak't at worst: For their Kniues care not, While you haue throats to answer. For my selfe, There's not a whittle, in th' vnruly Campe, But I do prize it at my loue, before The reuerends Throat in Athens. So I leaue you To the protection of the prosperous Gods, As Theeues to Keepers

Stew. Stay not, all's in vaine

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph, It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse Of Health, and Liuing, now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still, Be Alcibiades your plague; you his, And last so long enough

1 We speake in vaine

Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not One that reioyces in the common wracke, As common bruite doth put it

1 That's well spoke

Tim. Commend me to my louing Countreymen

1 These words become your lippes as they passe thorow them

2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers In their applauding gates

Tim. Commend me to them, And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes, Their feares of Hostile strokes, their Aches losses, Their pangs of Loue, with other incident throwes That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine In lifes vncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them, Ile teach them to preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath

1 I like this well, he will returne againe

Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Close, That mine owne vse inuites me to cut downe, And shortly must I fell it. Tell my Friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree, From high to low throughout, that who so please To stop Affliction, let him take his haste; Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe, And hang himselfe. I pray you do my greeting

Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall Finde him

Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens, Timon hath made his euerlasting Mansion Vpon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood, Who once a day with his embossed Froth The turbulent Surge shall couer; thither come, And let my graue-stone be your Oracle: Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end: What is amisse, Plague and Infection mend. Graues onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine; Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.

Exit Timon.

1 His discontents are vnremoueably coupled to Nature

2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne, And straine what other meanes is left vnto vs In our deere perill

1 It requires swift foot.

Exeunt.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Thou hast painfully discouer'd: are his Files As full as thy report? Mes. I haue spoke the least. Besides his expedition promises present approach

2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon

Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend, Whom though in generall part we were oppos'd, Yet our old loue made a particular force, And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding From Alcibiades to Timons Caue, With Letters of intreaty, which imported His Fellowship i'th' cause against your City, In part for his sake mou'd. Enter the other Senators.

1 Heere come our Brothers

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect, The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull scouring Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and prepare, Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Exeunt.

Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.

Sol. By all description this should be the place. Whose heere? Speake hoa. No answer? What is this? Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his span, Some Beast reade this; There do's not liue a Man. Dead sure, and this his Graue, what's on this Tomb, I cannot read: the Charracter Ile take with wax, Our Captaine hath in euery Figure skill; An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes: Before proud Athens hee's set downe by this, Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is. Enter.

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.

Alc. Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne, Our terrible approach.

Sounds a Parly.

The Senators appeare vpon the wals.

Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the time With all Licentious measure, making your willes The scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe and such As slept within the shadow of your power Haue wander'd with our trauerst Armes, and breath'd Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush, When crouching Marrow in the bearer strong Cries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong, Shall sit and pant in your great Chaires of ease, And pursie Insolence shall breake his winde With feare and horrid flight

1.Sen. Noble, and young; When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit, Ere thou had'st power, or we had cause of feare, We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme, To wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues Aboue their quantitie

2 So did we wooe Transformed Timon, to our Citties loue By humble Message, and by promist meanes: We were not all vnkinde, nor all deserue The common stroke of warre

1 These walles of ours, Were not erected by their hands, from whom You haue receyu'd your greefe: Nor are they such, That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools shold fall For priuate faults in them

2 Nor are they liuing Who were the motiues that you first went out, (Shame that they wanted, cunning in excesse) Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord, Into our City with thy Banners spred, By decimation and a tythed death; If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food Which Nature loathes, take thou the destin'd tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted dye, Let dye the spotted

1 All haue not offended: For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands Are not inherited, then deere Countryman, Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage, Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that haue offended, like a Shepheard, Approach the Fold, and cull th' infected forth, But kill not altogether

2 What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile, Then hew too't, with thy Sword

1 Set but thy foot Against our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope: So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, To say thou't enter Friendly

2 Throw thy Gloue, Or any Token of thine Honour else, That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse, And not as our Confusion: All thy Powers Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee Haue seal'd thy full desire

Alc. Then there's my Gloue, Defend and open your vncharged Ports, Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owne Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe, Fall and no more; and to attone your feares With my more Noble meaning, not a man Shall passe his quarter, or offend the streame Of Regular Iustice in your Citties bounds, But shall be remedied to your publique Lawes At heauiest answer

Both. 'Tis most Nobly spoken

Alc. Descend, and keepe your words. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead, Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th' Sea, And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture which With wax I brought away: whose soft Impression Interprets for my poore ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.

Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft, Seek not my name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left: Heere lye I Timon, who aliue, all liuing men did hate, Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe and stay not here thy gate. These well expresse in thee thy latter spirits: Though thou abhorrd'st in vs our humane griefes, Scornd'st our Braines flow, and those our droplets, which From niggard Nature fall; yet Rich Conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for aye On thy low Graue, on faults forgiuen. Dead Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie, And I will vse the Oliue, with my Sword: Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other, as each others Leach. Let our Drummes strike.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

TYMON of Athens. Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords. Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher. Sempronius another flattering Lord. Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine. Poet. Painter. Ieweller. Merchant. Certaine Theeues. Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants. Seruilius, another. Caphis. Varro. Philo. Titus. Lucius. Hortensis Seuerall Seruants to Vsurers. Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends. Cupid. Sempronius. With diuers other Seruants, And Attendants.

THE LIFE OF TYMON OF ATHENS.

The Tragedie of Julius Caesar

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners ouer the Stage.

Flauius. Hence: home you idle Creatures, get you home: Is this a Holiday? What, know you not (Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke Vpon a labouring day, without the signe Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou? Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter

Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule? What dost thou with thy best Apparrell on? You sir, what Trade are you? Cobl. Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am but as you would say, a Cobler

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly

Cob. A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules

Fla. What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue, what Trade? Cobl. Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out Sir, I can mend you

Mur. What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou sawcy Fellow? Cob. Why sir, Cobble you

Fla. Thou art a Cobler, art thou? Cob. Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens matters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes: when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As proper men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vpon my handy-worke

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day? Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets? Cob. Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holyday to see Caesar, and to reioyce in his Triumph

Mur. Wherefore reioyce? What Conquest brings he home? What Tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles? You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft? Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate The liue-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey passe the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout, That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of your sounds, Made in her Concaue Shores? And do you now put on your best attyre? And do you now cull out a Holyday? And do you now strew Flowers in his way, That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood? Be gone, Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this Ingratitude

Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the poore men of your sort; Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares Into the Channell, till the lowest streame Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.

Exeunt. all the Commoners.

See where their basest mettle be not mou'd, They vanish tongue-tyed in their guiltinesse: Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll, This way will I: Disrobe the Images, If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies

Mur. May we do so? You know it is the Feast of Lupercall

Fla. It is no matter, let no Images Be hung with Caesars Trophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke. These growing Feathers, pluckt from Caesars wing, Will make him flye an ordinary pitch, Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flauius.

Caes. Calphurnia

Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes

Caes. Calphurnia

Calp. Heere my Lord

Caes. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his course. Antonio

Ant. Cæsar, my Lord

Caes. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say, The Barren touched in this holy chace, Shake off their sterrile curse

Ant. I shall remember, When Caesar sayes, Do this; it is perform'd

Caes. Set on, and leaue no Ceremony out

Sooth. Caesar

Caes. Ha? Who calles? Cask. Bid euery noyse be still: peace yet againe

Caes. Who is it in the presse, that calles on me? I heare a Tongue shriller then all the Musicke Cry, Caesar: Speake, Caesar is turn'd to heare

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. What man is that? Br. A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March Caes. Set him before me, let me see his face

Cassi. Fellow, come from the throng, look vpon Caesar

Caes. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once againe, Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. He is a Dreamer, let vs leaue him: Passe.

Sennet

Exeunt. Manet Brut. & Cass.

Cassi. Will you go see the order of the course? Brut. Not I

Cassi. I pray you do

Brut. I am not Gamesom: I do lacke some part Of that quicke Spirit that is in Antony: Let me not hinder Cassius your desires; Ile leaue you

Cassi. Brutus, I do obserue you now of late: I haue not from your eyes, that gentlenesse And shew of Loue, as I was wont to haue: You beare too stubborne, and too strange a hand Ouer your Friend, that loues you

Bru. Cassius, Be not deceiu'd: If I haue veyl'd my looke, I turne the trouble of my Countenance Meerely vpon my selfe. Vexed I am Of late, with passions of some difference, Conceptions onely proper to my selfe, Which giue some soyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours: But let not therefore my good Friends be greeu'd (Among which number Cassius be you one) Nor construe any further my neglect, Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre, Forgets the shewes of Loue to other men

Cassi. Then Brutus, I haue much mistook your passion, By meanes whereof, this Brest of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations. Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your face? Brutus. No Cassius: For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection, By some other things

Cassius. 'Tis iust, And it is very much lamented Brutus, That you haue no such Mirrors, as will turne Your hidden worthinesse into your eye, That you might see your shadow: I haue heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome, (Except immortall Caesar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning vnderneath this Ages yoake, Haue wish'd, that Noble Brutus had his eyes

Bru. Into what dangers, would you Leade me Cassius? That you would haue me seeke into my selfe, For that which is not in me? Cas. Therefore good Brutus, be prepar'd to heare: And since you know, you cannot see your selfe So well as by Reflection; I your Glasse, Will modestly discouer to your selfe That of your selfe, which you yet know not of. And be not iealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common Laughter, or did vse To stale with ordinary Oathes my loue To euery new Protester: if you know, That I do fawne on men, and hugge them hard, And after scandall them: Or if you know, That I professe my selfe in Banquetting To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish, and Shout.

Bru. What meanes this Showting? I do feare, the People choose Caesar For their King

Cassi. I, do you feare it? Then must I thinke you would not haue it so

Bru. I would not Cassius, yet I loue him well: But wherefore do you hold me heere so long? What is it, that you would impart to me? If it be ought toward the generall good, Set Honor in one eye, and Death i'th other, And I will looke on both indifferently: For let the Gods so speed mee, as I loue The name of Honor, more then I feare death

Cassi. I know that vertue to be in you Brutus, As well as I do know your outward fauour. Well, Honor is the subiect of my Story: I cannot tell, what you and other men Thinke of this life: But for my single selfe, I had as liefe not be, as liue to be In awe of such a Thing, as I my selfe. I was borne free as Caesar, so were you, We both haue fed as well, and we can both Endure the Winters cold, as well as hee. For once, vpon a Rawe and Gustie day, The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores, Caesar saide to me, Dar'st thou Cassius now Leape in with me into this angry Flood, And swim to yonder Point? Vpon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bad him follow: so indeed he did. The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty Sinewes, throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of Controuersie. But ere we could arriue the Point propos'd, Caesar cride, Helpe me Cassius, or I sinke. I (as Aeneas, our great Ancestor, Did from the Flames of Troy, vpon his shoulder The old Anchyses beare) so, from the waues of Tyber Did I the tyred Caesar: And this Man, Is now become a God, and Cassius is A wretched Creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelesly but nod on him. He had a Feauer when he was in Spaine, And when the Fit was on him, I did marke How he did shake: Tis true, this God did shake, His Coward lippes did from their colour flye, And that same Eye, whose bend doth awe the World, Did loose his Lustre: I did heare him grone: I, and that Tongue of his, that bad the Romans Marke him, and write his Speeches in their Bookes, Alas, it cried, Giue me some drinke Titinius, As a sicke Girle: Ye Gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the Maiesticke world, And beare the Palme alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Bru. Another generall shout? I do beleeue, that these applauses are For some new Honors, that are heap'd on Caesar