ruffians bald;

And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you: Plague all;
That your activity may defeat and quell

The source of all erection.-There's more gold:-
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!

Phr. & Timan. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like
thyself;

A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd trees,
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold
brook,

Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,

Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou
[Digging.

Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root!
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
Let it no more bring out ungrateful man!
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented!-0, a root,-Dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas:
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts,
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!

Enter APEMANTUS.

More man? Plague! plague!

Apem. I was directed hither: Men report
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
Tim. "Tis then, because thou dost not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected;
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this
place?

This slave-like habit, and these looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft,
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent; thou wast told thus;
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel-

come,

To knaves, and all approachers; 'Tis most just, • Curved.

• The serpent called the blind worm.

Whose naked natures live in all the spite

Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find-

Apem. I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.
Tim. Why dost thou seek me out?
Apem.

Ay.

To vex thee.

Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in't? Apem. Tim. What! a knave too? Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again, Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives uncertain pomp, is crown'd before;' The one is filling still, never complete; The other at high wish: Best state, contentless, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst, content.

Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

Tim. Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favor never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath pro-
ceeded,

The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
In gen❜ral riot; and have never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself
Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows;-I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate
men?

They never flatter'd thee. What hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse; thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff
To some she-beggar, and compounded thee.
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!-
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer.
Apem.
Art thou proud yet?
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.

i. e. Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes.
By his voice, sentence.
From infancy.

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 fallingfrom 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?

2Thief. 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 masts, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want?
1Thief. 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; Do villany, do, since you profess to do't, Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery : The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away, Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats; All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, Break open shops; nothing can you steal, But thieves do lose it; Steal not less, for this I give you; and gold confound you howsoever! [TIMON retires to his Cave. 3 Thief. He has almost charmed 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.

What an alteration of honor 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 do!
He has caught me in his eye: I will present
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
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.
Flav. An honest poor servant of yours.
Tim.

Then

I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man
About me, I; all that I kept were knaves,
To serve in meat to villains.
Flav.
The gods are witness,
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.
Tim. What, dost thou weep?-Come nearer;-

then I love thee,

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,
But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping:
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with
weeping!

Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, To accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts, To entertain me as your steward still.

Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now
So comfortable! It almost turns
My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold
Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim

One honest man,-mistake me not,-but one;
No more, I pray, and he is a steward.-
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee,
I fell with curses.

Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou mightst have sooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,
(For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,)
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
If not a usuring kindness: and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?

Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:
You should have fear'd false times, when you did

feast:

Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty, and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
My most honor'd lord,

For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange
For this one wish, That you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.

Tim. Look thee, 'tis so!-Thou singly honest man,
Here take:-the gods out of my misery
Have sent me treasure. Go, live rich, and happy:
But thus condition'd; Thou shalt build from men;
• How happily. Away from human habitation.

SCENE I-Before Timon's Cave. Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON behind, unseen.

Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.

Poet. What's to be thought of him! Does the rumor 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 show honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel 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 o' 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 that makes it.

Tim. Excellent workman! paint a man so bad as is thyself.

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.

Pain.

Our late noble master. Tim. Have I once liv'd 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 re-
quite you?

Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.
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.

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, Find what thou want'st, by free and offered light. Come.

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

To make it known to us.

Beseech your honor,