O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, That solder'st close impossibilities, And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue, To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts! Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire! Apem. Would 'twere so; But not till I am dead!-I'll say thou hast gold: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Tim. Throng'd to? Apem. Ay. Tim. Thy back, I prythee. Apem. Live, and love thy misery! Tim. Long live so, and so die!-I am quit. [Exit APEMANTUS. More things like men?-Eat, Timon, and abhor them. Enter Thieves. 1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder: the mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy. 2 Thief. It is noised he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it? 2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid. 1 Thief. Is not this he? Thieves. Where? 2 Thief. 'Tis his description. 3 Thief. He; I know him. Thieves. Save thee, Timon. Tim. Now, thieves? Thieves. Soldiers, not thieves. Tim. Both too; and women's sons. Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots; Within this mile break forth a hundred springs; The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips; The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? 1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft In limited professions. Rascal thieves, Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: [TIMON retires to his cave. 3 Thief. He has almost charm'd me from my profession, by persuading me to it. 1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. 2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt Thieves. Enter FLAVIUS. Flav. O you gods! Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord ? Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! What an alteration of honour has Desperate want made! What viler thing upon the earth, than friends Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, When man was wish'd to love his enemies! Grant I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me, than those that dol- Still serve him with my life. My dearest master! TIMON comes forward from his cave. Tim. Away! what art thou? Flav. Have you forgot me, Sir? Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt man, I have forgot thee. I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man Flav. The gods are witness, Tim. What, dost thou weep? Come nearer; then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now So comfortable? It almost turns My dangerous nature mild. Let me behold One honest man, mistake me not, but one; Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; Thou mightst have sooner got another service: Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, If not a usuring kindness; and, as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one? F'lav. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast That which I shew, heaven knows, is merely love, For any benefit that points to me, Tim. Look thee, 'tis so!-Thou singly honest man, But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them And may diseases lick up their false bloods! Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold? Pain. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. 'Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends. Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore 'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will shew honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travail for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having. Poet. What have you now to present unto him? Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only, I will promise him an excellent piece. Poet. I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent that's coming toward him. Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment Tim. Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself. that makes it. Poet. I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency. Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee. Poet. Nay, let's seek him: Then do we sin against our own estate, When we may profit meet, and come too late. Pain. True; When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. - What a god's gold, That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple Than where swine feed! 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the foam; Settlest admirèd reverence in a slave: To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 'Fit I do meet them. Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! Pain. Our late noble master! [Advancing. Tim. Have I once lived to see two honest men? Poet. Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off, Whose thankless natures-O abhorred spirits!Not all the whips of heaven are large enough: What! to you, Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words. Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the better. You that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seen and known. Pain. He and myself Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Tim. Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service. Tim. Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. [you? Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. Tim. You are honest men: you have heard that I have gold; I am sure you have: speak truth; you are honest men. Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore Came not my friend nor I. Tim. Good honest men!-Thou draw'st a counterfeit Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best; Thou counterfeit'st most lively. Pain. So, so, my lord. Tim. Even so, Sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction, To the Poet. Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art. But, for all this, my honest-natured friends, I must needs say you have a little fault: Both. Beseech your honour, Tim. You'll take it ill. Both. Most thankfully, my lord Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you. Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, That he's a made-up villain. Pain. I know none such, my lord. Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them. Tim. You that way, and you this, but two in comEach man apart, all single and alone, [pany: Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. [not be. [To the Painter.] If, where thou art, two villains shall Come not near him.-[To the Poet.] If thou wouldst not reside But where one villain is, then him abandon. Hencel pack! there's gold, -ye came for gold, ye slaves: You have done work for me, there's payment: hence!You are an alchemist, make gold of that. Out, rascal dogs! [Exit, beating and driving them out. Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross: A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render, Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; Tim. You witch me in it; 1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens (thine and ours) to take The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 2 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning sword Against the walls of Athens. 1 Sen. 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 sack fair Athens, Giving our holy virgins to the stain Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, But I do prize it at my love, before The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you Flav. Stay not, all's in vain. Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph; And last so long enough! 1 Sen. We speak in vain. Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not One that rejoices in the common wreck, As common bruit doth put it. 1 Sen. That's well spoke. Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen, 1 Sen. These words become your lips as they pass through them. 2 Sen. And enter in our ears, like great triúmphers In their applauding gates. Tim. Commend me to them; And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them: 2 Sen. I like this well; he will return again. Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, That mine own use invites me to cut down, From high to low throughout, that whoso please And hang himself:-I pray you, do my greeting. Flav. Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 1 Sen. His discontents are unremovably Coupled to nature. 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us In our dear peril. 1 Sen. It requires swift foot. SCENE III. The Walls of ATHENS. SCENE V.-Before the Walls of ATHENS. Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES and forces. Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious town Our terrible approach. [A parley sounded Enter Senators on the walls. Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time Have wander'd with our traversed arms, and breathed Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush, When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, Cries of itself, "No more:" now breathless wrong With fear and horrid flight. 1 Sen. Noble and young, When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 2 Sen. So did we woo Let die the spotted. 1 Sen. All have not offended; For those that were, it is not square to take, [Exeunt. Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin, Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall With those that have offended: like a shepherd, Approach the fold, and cull the infected forth, But kill not all together. Or any token of thine honour else, That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress, And not as our confusion, all thy powers Shall make their harbour in our town, till we Have seal'd thy full desire. Alcib. Then there's my glove; Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken. Alcib. Descend, and keep your words. [The Senators descend, and open the gates. Enter a Soldier. Sol. My noble general, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem ở' the sea; And on his gravestone this insculpture, which Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate: Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait." These well express in thee thy latter spirits: Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, Let our drums strike. [each [Exeunt. SCENE,-During a great part of the Play, at ROME; afterwards, at SARDIS, and near PHILIPPI. ACT I. SCENE I.-ROME. A Street. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens. Flav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home; Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou? 1 Cit. Why, Sir, a carpenter. Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy ru'e? 2 Cit. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Cit. A trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, Sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow! 2 Cit. Why, Sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 2 Cit. Truly, Sir, all that I live by is, with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, Sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather have gone upon my handiwork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets! self into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he What tributaries follow him to Rome, [home! That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now strew flowers in his way, Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, [Exeunt Citizens See, whe'r their basest metal be not moved; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I: disrobe the images, 2 Cit. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get my- If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. Bru. Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; And it is very much lamented, Brutus, Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear: And, since you know you cannot see yourself Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Cæsar for their king. Cas. Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well:But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently: For, let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of honour more than I fear death. Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. In awe of such a thing as I myself. And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. And stemming it, with hearts of controversy. Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder Did I the tirèd Cæsar: and this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And, when the lit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. Bru. Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are [Shout. Flourish For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar. Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about |