2 LORD. Lord Timon's mad.
3 LORD. I feel't upon my bones.
4 LORD. One day he gives us diamonds, next day
SCENE I. Without the Walls of Athens.
Enter TIMON.
TIM. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdleft in thofe 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 minister in their fteads! to general filths
Convert o'the inftant, green virginity!
Do't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trufter's throats! bound fervants, steal!
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law! maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy miftrefs is o'the brothel! fon of fixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping fire,
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domeftick awe, night-reft, and neighbourhood,
Inftruction, manners, myfteries, and trades,
Degrees, obfervances, cuftoms, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And yet confufion live!-Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for firoke! thou cold fciatica,
Cripple our fenators, that their limbs may halt
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 strive,
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bofoms; and their crop
Be general leprofy! breath infect breath;
That their fociety, as their friendship, may
Be merely poifon! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou déteftable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying banns!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindeft beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, you good gods all,)
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high, and low!
SCENE II. Athens. A Room in Timon's Houfe. Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three SERVANTS. I SERV. Hear you, master steward, where's our master? Are we undone? caft 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.
I SERV. Such a house broke!
So noble a mafter fallen! All gone! and not
One friend, to take his fortune by the arm,
go along with him!
2 SERY. 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 falfe vows with him,
Like empty purfes pick'd: and his poor felf,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-fhunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.
FLAV. All broken implements of a ruin'd house.
SERV. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
That fee I by our faces; we are fellows ftill,
Serving alike in forrow: Leak'd is our bark;
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the furges threat: we must all part
Into this fea of air.
The latest of my wealth I'll fhare amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's fake,
Let's yet be fellows; let's fhake our heads, and fay,
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,
We have feen better days. Let each take fome;
[Giving them money. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more: Thus part we rich in forrow, parting poor.
[Exeunt SERVANTS.
O, 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? or 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! Strange, unusual blood,
When man's worst fin is, he does too much good!
Who then dares to be half fo kind again?
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.
My deareft lord,blefs'd, to be most accurs'd,
Rich, only to be wretched; thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
He's flung 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, and inquire him out :
I'll ever ferve his mind with my best will;
Whilft I have gold, I'll be his steward ftill.
SCENE III. The Woods.
Enter TIMON.
TIM. O blessed breeding fun, 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 dividant,-touch them with feveral fortunes;
The
greater fcorns the leffer: Not nature,
To whom all fores lay fiege, can bear great fortune,
But by contempt of nature.
Raife me this beggar, and denude that lord ;
The fenator fhall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the brother's fides,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And fay, This man's a flatterer? if one be,
So are they all; for every grize 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. Therefore, be abhorr'd
All feasts, focieties, and throngs of men!
His femblable, yea, himself, Timon difdains: Destruction fang mankind!-Earth, yield me roots!
Who feeks for better of thee, fauce his palate
With thy moft operant poifon! What is here?
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
I am no idle votarift. 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 fides;
Pluck ftout men's pillows from below their heads:
This yellow flave
Will knit and break religions; blefs the accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprofy ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With fenators on the bench: this is it,
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous fores
Would caft the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that put'ft 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, ftrong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:-
Nay, ftay thou out for earnest,
Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner ;
ALCIB. What art thou there?
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