Uncover, dogs, and lap.
Some fpeak. What does his Lordship mean? Some other. I know not.
Tim. May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends! fmoke, and lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timon's laft,
Who ftuck and fpangled with your flatteries Wafhes 'them off, and fprinkles in your faces Your reaking villainy. Live loath'd, and long, Moft fmiling, fmooth, detefted parafites, Courteous deftroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time-flies, Cap-and-knee flaves, vapors, and minute-jacks; Of man and beaft the infinite 4'maladies` Cruft you quite o'er! What, doft thou go? Soft, take thy phyfick first thou too and thou- [Throwing the dishes at them, and drives 'em out.
Stay, I will lend thee mony, borrow none. What! all in motion? henceforth be no feast,' Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest.
Burn house, fink Athens, henceforth hated be Of Timon, man, and all humanity!
Re-enter the Senators.
1 Sen. How now, my Lords?
2 Sen. Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury? 3 Sen. Pifh! did you fee my cap?
4 Sen. I've loft my gown.
i Sen. He's but a mad Lord, and nought but humour fways him. He gave me a jewel th'other day, and now he has beat it out of my cap.
2 Sen. Did you see my cap?
3 Sen. Here 'tis.
4 Sen. Here lyes my gown. i Sen. Let's make no ftay.
(a) Meaning probably the ignus fatuus often call'd Jack with a lanthorn, appearing and vanishing in a minute.
3 Sen. I feel't upon my bones.
4 Sen. One day he gives us diamonds, next day ftones.
Without the walls of Athens.
ET me look back upon thee, O thou wall, That girdleft in those wolves! dive in the earth,' And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent; Obedience fail in children; flaves and fools Pluck the grave wrinkled fenate from the bench, And minifter in their fteads: to general 'filth Convert o' th' inftant, green virginity!
Do't in your parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold faft; Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trufters throats. Bound fervants, fteal; Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy mafter's bed; Thy miftrefs is "'i' th' brothel. Son of fixteen, Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping fire, And with it beat his brains out. Fear and piety, Religion to the Gods, peace, juftice, truth, Domestick awe, night-reft, and neighbourhood, Inftruction, manners, myfteries and trades, Degrees, obfervances, cuftoms and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries! And let confufion live! plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for ftroke! Thou cold Sciatica, Cripple our fenators, that their limbs may halt VOL. V.
As lamely as their manners! Luft and liberty Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That'gainst the stream of virtue they may ftrive, And drown themfelves in riot! Itches, blains, Sow all the Athenian bofoms, and their crop Be general leprofie! breath infect breath, That their fociety (as their friendship) may Be meerly poifon! Nothing I'll bear from thee, But nakedness, thou 'town deteftable!
Take thou that too, with multiplying banns: Timon will to the woods, where he fhall find Th' unkindeft beaft much kinder than mankind. The Gods confound (hear me, you good Gods all) Th' 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!
Enter Flavius with two or three Servants.
1 Ser. HEar you, good master steward, where's our
Are we undone, caft off, nothing remaining?
Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let it be recorded by the righteous Gods,
I am as poor as you.
1 Ser. Such a house broke!
So noble a Mafter fall'n! all gone! and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm, And go along with him!
2 Ser. As we turn our backs
From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars from his buried fortunes Slink all away, leave their falfe vows with him
Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor felf, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-fhunn'd poverty, Walks, like Contempt, alone.
Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house! 3 Ser. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery, That fee I by our faces; we are fellows, Serving alike in forrow. Leak'd is our bark, And we, poor mates, ftand on the dying deck, Hearing the furges threat: we must all part Into the fea of air.
The lateft of my wealth I'll fhare amongst you. Where-ever we fhall meet, for Timon's fake, Let's yet be fellows: fhake our heads, and say, (As 'twere a knell unto our mafter's fortunes) We bave feen better days. Let each take fome; Nay, put out all your hands; not one word more, Thus part we rich in forrow, parting poor.
[He gives them mony, they embrace and part feveral ways. Oh the fierce wretchednefs that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt? Since riches point to mifery and contempt! Who'd be fo mock'd with glory, as to live But in a dream of friendship?
To have his pomp, and all what ftate compounds, But only painted like his varnish'd friends? Poor honeft Lord! brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness: ftrange unusual blood, When man's worft fin is, he does too much good. Who then dares to be half fo kind again?
For bounty, that makes Gods, does ftill mar men. My dearest Lord, bleft to be most accurs❜d, Rich only to be wretched; thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind Lord! He's Alung in rage from this ungrateful feat
Of monftrous friends: nor has he with him to Supply his life, or that which can command it : I'll follow after and enquire him out. I'll ever ferve his mind with my best will; Whilft I have gold, I'll be his fteward ftill.
Tim. Bleffed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity: below thy fifter's orb
Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one womb, Whofe procreation, refidence, and birth
Scarce is divided,' touch with feveral fortunes, The greater fcorns the leffer: Not ev'n nature,
To whom all fores lay fiege, can bear great fortune But with contempt of nature.
Raife me this beggar, and 'degrade' that Lord,
The fenator fhall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour:
It is the pafture lards the 'weather's` fides,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares, In purity of manhood ftand upright,
And fay, This man's a flatterer? if one be, So are they all, for every greeze of fortune Is fmooth'd by that below. The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique, There's nothing level in our curfed natures But direct villainy. Then be abhorr'd, All feafts, focieties, and throngs of men! His femblable, yea, himself, Timon difdains. Destruction phang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!
2 follow, and 3 dividant, 4 by 6 beggar's... old edit. Warb. emend.
« AnteriorContinuar » |