Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty*
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath;
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!

Take thou that too, with multiplying banns!+
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
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 low!
Amen.

SCENE II.-Athens. A Room in TIMON'S House.
Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three SERVANTS.
1 Serv. Hear you, master steward, where's our master?
Are we undone ? cast off? nothing remaining?
Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

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.

Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house.
3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery.
That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our bark';
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the surges threat: we must all part
Into this sea of air.

Flav. Good fellows all,

The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,

*For libertinism.

+ Accumulated curses.

[Exit.

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.

Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:
Thus part we rich in sorrow, 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?

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?
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.
My dearest lord,-bless'd, to be most accursed,
Rich, only to be wretched;-thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
He's flung in rage from this ungrateful seat
Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to
Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I'll follow, and inquire him out:

I'll serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still.

SCENE III.-The Woods.

Enter TIMON.

Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb‡

Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant,-touch them with several fortunes;
The greater scorns the lesser: Not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
But by § contempt of nature,

Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary

The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,

And say, This man's a flatterer? if one be,
So are they all; for every grize || of fortune
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr❜d
*Hasty, precipitate.

+ Propensity, disposition.
§ Without.

I. e. the moon's, this sublunary world.

[Exit.

Step.

All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!

His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains!

Destruction fang* mankind !-Earth, yield me roots! [Digging.
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison! What is here?
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
I am no idle votarist.t Roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this, will make black white; foul, fair;
Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.

Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? Why this
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides;
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:
This yellow slave

Will knit and break religions; bless the accursed;
Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it,
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee

Do thy right nature.-[March afar off.]-Ha! a drum ?—
Thou'rt quick,§

But yet I'll bury thee: Thou'lt go, strong thief,

When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:

Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

[Keeping some gold.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with Drum and Fife, in warlike manner;

PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.

Alcib. What art thou there?

Speak.

Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart, For showing me again the eyes of man!

Alcib. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,

That art thyself a man?

Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

Alcib. I know thee well:

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

Tim. I know thee too; and more, than that I know thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:

Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;

Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,

For all her cherubin look.

Phr. Thy lips rot off!

* Seize, gripe.

Sorrowful.

+ No insincere supplicant.

I. e. of living power.

Tim. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns To thine own lips again.

Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this change? Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to give : But then renew I could not like the moon

There were no suns to borrow of.

Alcib. Noble Tinion,

What friendship may I do thee?
Tim. None, but to
Maintain my opinion.

Alcib. What is it, Timon?

Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none: If Thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee: for Thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, For thou'rt a man!

Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. Alcib. I see them now; then was a blessed time. Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. Timan. Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world Voiced so regardfully?

Tim. Art thou Timandra ?

Timan. Yes.

Tim. Be a whore still! they love thee not, that use thee; 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!

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 grieved,
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.

Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,

Tim. 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

* Alluding to the cure of the lues venerea then in practice.

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-viced 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 a 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 milk-paps,
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 pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse:+ Swear against objects;
Put 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.

Aleib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou givest me, Not all thy counsel.

Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee ! Phr. and 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 aprons mountant: You are not oathable,-
Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear,
Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues,
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, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,

And be no turncoats: Yet may your pains, six months,
Be quite contrary: And thatch your poor thin roofs
With burdens of the dead;-some that were hang'd,
No matter wear them, betray with them: whore still;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face:

:

A pox of wrinkles!

Phr. and Timan. Well, more gold;-What then ?Believe't, that we'll do anything 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,

* An allusion to the tale of Edipus.

I. e. against objects of charity and compassion.
Vocation.

+ Without pity.