No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; I'll frush it, and unlock the rivets all, But I'll be master of it. Wilt thou not, beast, abide? Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide! [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.-The same. Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons. Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons: Mark what I say! Attend me where I wheel: Strike no at stroke, but keep yourselves in breath And when I have the bloody Hector found, Empale him with your weapons round about; In fellest manner execute your arms. Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye: It is decreed-Hector the great must die! [Exeunt.
Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIO- MEDES, and Others, marching. Shouts within. Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? Nest. Peace, drums! [Within.] Achilles !
Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio. The bruit is -Hector's slain, and by Achilles. Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be; Great Hector was as good a man as he. Agam. March patiently along! - Let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent.- If in his death the gods have us befriended, Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. [Exeunt, marching.
Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment. Farewell, bastard! Mar. The devil take thee, coward!
SCENE IX. Another part of the field. Enter HECTOR.
Another part of the field. Enter AENEAS ond Trojans. Aene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night. Enter TROILUS. Tro. Hector is slain!
All. Hector!-The gods forbid! Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail, In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field, Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed! Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destruction on! Aene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so: I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death; But dare all imminence, that gods and men Address their dangers in. Hector is gone! Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, Go in to Troy, and say there: Hector's dead; There is a word will Priam turn to stone; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away! Hector is dead; there is no more to say. Stay yet!You vile abominable tents, Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, Let Titan rise as early, as he dare, I'll through and through you!
Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death! [Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him.
Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.` Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. Hect. I am unarm'd; forgeo this 'vantage, Greek! Achil. Strike, fellows, strike! this is the man I seek! [Hector falls. So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down! Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone! On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain: Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain!
siz'd coward! No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy!-with comfort go! Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe!
[Exeunt Aeneas and Trojans. AS TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS. Pan. But hear you, hear you! Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit Troilus.
Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones!O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set 'a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance loathed? what verse for it? what instance for
[A retreat sounded. Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part! Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord! Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the so
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade, cloths.
As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Some two months hence my will shall here be made : It should be now, but that my fear is this, Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases ; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.
SCENE, - Athens; and the woods adjoining.
· Athens. A hall in TIMON's house.
Each bound it chafes. What have you there? Pain. A picture, sir!— and when comes your book forth?
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Others, Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir! Let's
Poet. Good day, sir!
Pain. I am glad you are well.
see your piece!. Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis
this comes off well and excellent.
Poet. I have not seen you long. How goes the world? Pain. Indifferent.
Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
Poet. Ay, that's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord!
Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd.
Poet. Admirable: how this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch: is't good?
Poet. I'll say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were, Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
Jew. I have a jewel here.
Mer. O, pray, let's see't. For the lord Timon, sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but, for that Poet. When we for recompence have prais'd the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hng With amplest entertainment. My free drift dedi-Halts not particularly, but moves itself
Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich; here is a water, look you! Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice Infects one comma in the course I hold; But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I'll unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Of grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better, Than to abhor himself: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod.
Pain. I saw them speak together.
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The base o'the mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states: amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd. One do I personate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.
Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steppy mount To climb his happiness, would be well express'd In our condition.
Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on!
All those, which were his fellows but of late, (Some better, than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrop, and throngh him Drink the free air.
Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?
By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift: And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim. Well; what further?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer, what I have got: The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.
Poet. When Fortune,in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.
A thousand moral paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.
Tim. The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter. Tim. Does she love him?, Old Ath. She is young, and apt: Our own precedent passions do instruct us What levity's in youth.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timox, attended; the Ser- vant of VENTIDIUS talking with him. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?
Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid? Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. Old Ath. Ifin her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all.
Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord! five talents is his debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait: Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Periods his comfort.
Tim. Noble Ventidius! well;
I am not of that feather, to shake off
Tim. How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband? Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, all. Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me loug; To build his fortune, I will strain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her.
My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman, that well deserves a help, Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransome; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me: - 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. - Fare you well! Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!
Enter an Old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak! Tim. Freely, good father!
Old Ath. Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship! Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Tim. I have so. What of him?
[Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim. I thank you! you shall hear frome me anon. friend? Go not away! What have there, my you Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
Tim. Painting is welcome!
The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature, He is but outside. These pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work; -And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance Till you hear further from me.
Pain. The gods preserve you!
We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen! Give me your hand Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew. What, my lord? dispraise? If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, Tim. A mere satiety of commendations. It would unclew me quite.
Jew. My lord, 'tis rated
As those, which sell, would give; but you well know, Things of like value, differing in the owners, Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. You mend the jewel by wearing it.
Tim. Attends he here, or no? - Lucilius !
Tim. Whither art going?
Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for.
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? Apem. The best, for the innocence.
Tim. Wrought he not well, that painted it?
Apem. He wrought better, that made the painter;
and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. You are a dog.
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!- That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves,
And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey.
Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight. Tim. Right welcome, sir!
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in! [Exeunt all but Apemantus. Enter two Lords.
1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus? Apem. Time to be honest.
1 Lord. That time serves still.
Apem. The most accursed thou, that still omit'st it. 2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.
2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well!
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation; what's Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice.
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
Apem. No; I eat not lords.
Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.
Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Apem. So thou apprehend'st it: take it for thy labour.
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?
Apem. Should'st have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.
Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend.
2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!
Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. [Exit.
1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
Apem. Not worth my thinking.• How now, poet? The very heart of kindness.
Poet. How now, philosopher?
Apem. Thou liest.
2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays Sevenfold above itself: no gift to him, But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.
1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries, That ever govern'd man.
2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in? 1 Lord. I'll keep you company.
SCENE II. A room of state in Ti- Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending: then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS, SEM- PRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with VEN- TIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.
Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleas'd the gods remember
My father's age, and call him to long peace. He is gone happy, and has left me rich: Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose help I deriv'd liberty.
Tim. O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love;
I gave it freely ever; and there's none Can truly say, he gives, if he receives: If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; faults, that are rich, are fair. Ven. A noble spirit!
[They all stand ceremoniously looking on
Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray, sit! more welcome are ye to my fortunes, Than my fortunes to me.
[They sit. 1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it. Apem.lio, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not? Tim. O, Apemantus! you are welcome! Apem. No,
You shall not make me welcome:
Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field
Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my lord! Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, than a dinner of friends.
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. Tim. Fye, thou art a churl; you have got a humour there
Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame:- They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est, But vond' man's ever angry.
Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like them; I could wish my best friend at such a feast.
Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine ene mies then; that then thou might'st kill 'em, and bid
1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.
Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided,that I shall have much help from you. How had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. 0 you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them; and would most resemble sweetin struments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poor Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon; er, that I might come nearer to you. We are born I come to observe; I give thee warning on't. to do benefits: and what better or properer can we Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athe-call our own, than the riches of our friends? 0,what nian;therefore welcome! I myself would have no pow-a precious comfort'tis, to have so many, like brothers,
Go, let him have a table by himself; For he does neither affect company, Nor is he fit for it, indeed.
er: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent. Apem. I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for should
Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods! what a number Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not! It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat In one man's blood; and all the madness is, He cheers them up too.
I wonder, man dare trust themselves with men: Methinks, they should invite them without knives; Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.. There's much example for't; the fellow, that Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov'd. If I
Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes: Great men should drink with harness on their throats. Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round. 2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord! Apem. Flow this way!
commanding one another's fortunes! Ŏ joy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold ont water,methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you. Apem. Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon! 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up. Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. 3 Lord, I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much Apem. Much! [Tucket sounded. Tim. What means that trump? How now?
A brave fellow! - he keeps his tides well. Timon, Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill. Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire: This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds. Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. APEMANTUS's Grace.
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf: I pray for no man, but myself: Grant I may never prove so fond, To trust man on his oath or bond; Or a harlot, for her weeping; Or a dog, that seems a sleeping; Or a keeper, with my freedom; Or my friends, if I should need' em. Amen. So fall to't:
Rich men sin, and I eat root.
Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon;-and to all That of his bounties taste! The five best senses Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. The car, Taste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise They only now come but to feast thine eyes. Tim. They are welcome all! let them have kind admittance:
Music, make their welcome!
1 Lord. You see,my lord, how ample you are belov Music. Re-enter Cupid, with a masque of Ladie
as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, and playing. Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes this
They dance! they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil, and root. We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; And spend our flatteries, to drink those men, Upon whose age we void it up again,
[Eats and drinks. With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives, that's not
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
Depraved, or depraves? whe dies, that bears
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