Music. Enter divers Friends at several doors.
FIRST FRIEND.
The good time of day to you, sir.
SECOND FRIEND.
I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this
other day.
FIRST FRIEND.
Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered. I hope it is not
so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
SECOND FRIEND.
It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.
FIRST FRIEND.
I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my
near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond
them, and I must needs appear.
SECOND FRIEND.
In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would
not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my
provision was out.
FIRST FRIEND.
I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.
SECOND FRIEND.
Every man here’s so. What would he have borrowed you?
FIRST FRIEND.
A thousand pieces.
SECOND FRIEND.
A thousand pieces!
FIRST FRIEND.
What of you?
SECOND FRIEND.
He sent to me, sir—here he comes.
Enter Timon and Attendants.
TIMON.
With all my heart, gentlemen both! And how fare you?
FIRST FRIEND.
Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
SECOND FRIEND.
The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.
TIMON.
[_Aside_.] Nor more willingly leaves winter, such summer birds are men.
Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay. Feast your
ears with the music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o’ th’
trumpet’s sound; we shall to’t presently.
FIRST FRIEND.
I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you
an empty messenger.
TIMON.
O, sir, let it not trouble you.
SECOND FRIEND.
My noble lord—
TIMON.
Ah, my good friend, what cheer?
SECOND FRIEND.
My most honourable lord, I am e’en sick of shame that when your
lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.
TIMON.
Think not on’t, sir.
SECOND FRIEND.
If you had sent but two hours before—
TIMON.
Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
[_The banquet brought in._]
Come, bring in all together.
SECOND FRIEND.
All covered dishes!
FIRST FRIEND.
Royal cheer, I warrant you.
THIRD FRIEND.
Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.
FIRST FRIEND.
How do you? What’s the news?
THIRD FRIEND.
Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?
FIRST AND SECOND FRIENDS.
Alcibiades banished?
THIRD FRIEND.
’Tis so, be sure of it.
FIRST FRIEND.
How, how?
SECOND FRIEND.
I pray you, upon what?
TIMON.
My worthy friends, will you draw near?
THIRD FRIEND.
I’ll tell you more anon. Here’s a noble feast toward.
SECOND FRIEND.
This is the old man still.
THIRD FRIEND.
Will’t hold, will’t hold?
SECOND FRIEND.
It does, but time will—and so—
THIRD FRIEND.
I do conceive.
TIMON.
Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip of his
mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast
of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit,
sit. The gods require our thanks:
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your
own gifts make yourselves praised, but reserve still to give, lest your
deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to
another; for, were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake
the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let
no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit
twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest
of your foes, O gods, the senators of Athens, together with the common
lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for
destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing,
so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome.
Uncover, dogs, and lap.
[_The dishes are uncovered and prove to be full of lukewarm water._]
SOME SPEAK.
What does his lordship mean?
SOME OTHER.
I know not.
TIMON.
May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water
Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last,
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces
Your reeking villainy.
[_Throws water in their faces._]
Live loathed, and long,
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies,
Cap-and-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!
Of man and beast the infinite malady
Crust you quite o’er! [_They stand_.] What, dost thou go?
Soft! Take thy physic first; thou too, and thou!
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
[_He attacks them and forces them out._]
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast
Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest.
Burn, house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be
Of Timon man and all humanity!
[_Exit._]
Enter Timon’s Friends, the Senators with other Lords.
FIRST FRIEND.
How now, my lords?
SECOND FRIEND.
Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?
THIRD FRIEND.
Push! Did you see my cap?
FOURTH FRIEND.
I have lost my gown.
FIRST FRIEND.
He’s but a mad lord, and nought but humours sways him. He gave me a
jewel th’ other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see
my jewel?
THIRD FRIEND.
Did you see my cap?
SECOND FRIEND.
Here ’tis.
FOURTH FRIEND.
Here lies my gown.
FIRST FRIEND.
Let’s make no stay.
SECOND FRIEND.
Lord Timon’s mad.
THIRD FRIEND.
I feel’t upon my bones.
FOURTH FRIEND.
One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
[_Exeunt._]
ACT IV
SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens
Enter Timon.
TIMON.
Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall
That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench
And minister in their steads! To general filths
Convert, o’ th’ instant, green virginity,
Do’t in your parents’ eyes! Bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives
And cut your trusters’ throats! Bound servants, steal!
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed,
Thy mistress is o’ th’ brothel. Son of sixteen,
Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And let confusion live! Plagues incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners! Lust 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 th’ Athenian bosoms, and their crop
Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I’ll bear from thee
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
Timon will to the woods, where he shall find
Th’ unkindest beast more 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!
Amen.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II. Athens. A room in Timon’s house
Enter Flavius with two or three Servants.
FIRST SERVANT.
Hear you, Master Steward, where’s our master?
Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?
FLAVIUS.
Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.
FIRST SERVANT.
Such a house broke?
So noble a master fall’n? All gone, and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm
And go along with him?
SECOND SERVANT.
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 false vows with him,
Like empty purses picked; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunned poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.—More of our fellows.
Enter other Servants.
FLAVIUS.
All broken implements of a ruined house.
THIRD SERVANT.
Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery.
That see I by our faces. We are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our bark,
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the surges threat. We must all part
Into this sea of air.
FLAVIUS.
Good fellows all,
The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake
Let’s yet be fellows. Let’s shake our heads and say,
As ’twere a knell unto our master’s fortune,
“We have seen better days.” Let each take some.
[_Offering them money._]
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more.
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.
[_They embrace and part several ways._]
O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
Since riches point to misery and contempt?
Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live
But in a dream of friendship,
To have his pomp and all what state compounds
But only painted, like his varnished friends?
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,
Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood
When man’s worst sin is he does too much good!
Who then dares to be half so kind again?
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.
My dearest lord, blessed to be most accursed,
Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord,
He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat
Of monstrous 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 serve his mind with my best will.
Whilst I have gold, I’ll be his steward still.
[_Exit._]
SCENE III. Woods and caves near the sea-shore
Enter Timon in the woods.
TIMON.
O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity, below thy sister’s orb
Infect the air! Twinned brothers of one womb,
Whose procreation, residence and birth
Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes,
The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature,
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune
But by contempt of nature.
Raise me this beggar, and deny’t that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the rother’s sides,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares
In purity of manhood stand upright
And say, “This man’s a flatterer”? If one be,
So are they all, for every grece of fortune
Is smoothed by that below. The learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy.
There’s nothing level in our cursed natures
But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.
Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!
[_Digs in the earth._]
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison! What is here?
Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?
No, gods, I am no idle votarist.
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 sides,
Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads.
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions, bless th’ accursed,
Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves
And give them title, knee, and approbation
With senators on the bench. This is it
That makes the wappened widow wed again;
She whom the spittle-house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th’ April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that puts 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, strong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
[_Keeping some gold._]
Enter Alcibiades with drum and fife, in warlike manner, and Phrynia and
Timandra.
ALCIBIADES.
What art thou there? Speak.
TIMON.
A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart
For showing me again the eyes of man!
ALCIBIADES.
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee
That art thyself a man?
TIMON.
I am Misanthropos and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
ALCIBIADES.
I know thee well,
But in thy fortunes am unlearned and strange.
TIMON.
I know thee too, and more than that I know thee
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum,
With man’s blood paint the ground gules, gules.
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel,
Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.
PHRYNIA.
Thy lips rot off!
TIMON.
I will not kiss thee, then the rot returns
To thine own lips again.
ALCIBIADES.
How came the noble Timon to this change?
TIMON.
As the moon does, by wanting light to give.
But then renew I could not like the moon;
There were no suns to borrow of.
ALCIBIADES.
Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?
TIMON.
None, but to maintain my opinion.
ALCIBIADES.
What is it, Timon?
TIMON.
Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou wilt not promise, the
gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost perform, confound
thee, for thou art a man.
ALCIBIADES.
I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
TIMON.
Thou saw’st them when I had prosperity.
ALCIBIADES.
I see them now; then was a blessed time.
TIMON.
As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA.
Is this th’ Athenian minion whom the world
Voiced so regardfully?
TIMON.
Art thou Timandra?
TIMANDRA.
Yes.
TIMON.
Be a whore still, they love thee not that use thee;
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
Make use of thy salt hours. Season the slaves
For tubs and baths, bring down rose-cheeked youth
To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA.
Hang thee, monster!
ALCIBIADES.
Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits
Are drowned and lost in his calamities.
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band. I have heard and grieved
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them—
TIMON.
I prithee, beat thy drum and get thee gone.
ALCIBIADES.
I am thy friend and pity thee, dear Timon.
TIMON.
How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
ALCIBIADES.
Why, fare thee well.
Here is some gold for thee.
TIMON.
Keep it, I cannot eat it.
ALCIBIADES.
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap—
TIMON.
Warr’st thou ’gainst Athens?
ALCIBIADES.
Ay, Timon, and have cause.
TIMON.
The gods confound them all in thy conquest,
And thee after, when thou hast conquered!
ALCIBIADES.
Why me, Timon?
TIMON.
That by killing of villains
Thou wast born to conquer my country.
Put up thy gold. Go on, here’s gold, go on.
Be as a planetary plague when Jove
Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison
In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honoured age for his white beard;
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself’s a bawd. Let not the virgin’s cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword, for those milk paps
That through the window-bars bore at men’s eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
Think it a bastard whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects;
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes,
Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There’s gold to pay thy soldiers.
Make large confusion and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
ALCIBIADES.
Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou giv’st me,
Not all thy counsel.
TIMON.
Dost thou or dost thou not, heaven’s curse upon thee!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA.
Give us some gold, good Timon.
Hast thou more?
TIMON.
Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant. You are not oathable,
Although I know you’ll swear—terribly swear
Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
Th’ immortal gods that hear you. Spare your oaths,
I’ll trust to your conditions. Be whores still,
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats. Yet may your pains six months,
Be quite contrary. And thatch your poor thin roofs
With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged,
No matter; wear them, betray with them. Whore still,
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face.
A pox of wrinkles!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA.
Well, more gold. What then?
Believe’t that we’ll do anything for gold.
TIMON.
Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men’s spurring. Crack the lawyer’s voice,
That he may never more false title plead
Nor sound his quillets shrilly. Hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh
And not believes himself. Down with the nose,
Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away
Of him that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the general weal. Make curled-pate ruffians bald,
And let the unscarred 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!
PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA.
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMON.
More whore, more mischief first! I have given you earnest.
ALCIBIADES.
Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon.
If I thrive well, I’ll visit thee again.
TIMON.
If I hope well, I’ll never see thee more.
ALCIBIADES.
I never did thee harm.
TIMON.
Yes, thou spok’st well of me.
ALCIBIADES.
Call’st thou that harm?
TIMON.
Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.
ALCIBIADES.
We but offend him. Strike.
[_Drum beats. Exeunt all but Timon._]
TIMON.
That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! [_He digs_.] Common mother, thou,
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all; whose selfsame mettle
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffed,
Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
The gilded newt and eyeless venomed 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 ingrateful 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. O, 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!
APEMANTUS.
I was directed hither. Men report
Thou dost affect my manners and dost use them.
TIMON.
’Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!
APEMANTUS.
This is in thee a nature but infected,
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 diseased 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 bade welcome,
To knaves and all approachers. ’Tis most just
That thou turn rascal; had’st thou wealth again,
Rascals should have’t. Do not assume my likeness.
TIMON.
Were I like thee, I’d throw away myself.
APEMANTUS.
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 mossed trees,
That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels
And skip when thou point’st out? Will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste
To cure thy o’ernight’s surfeit? Call the creatures
Whose naked natures live in all the spite
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements exposed,
Answer mere nature, bid them flatter thee.
O, thou shalt find—
TIMON.
A fool of thee. Depart.
APEMANTUS.
I love thee better now than e’er I did.
TIMON.
I hate thee worse.
APEMANTUS.
Why?
TIMON.
Thou flatter’st misery.
APEMANTUS.
I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.
TIMON.
Why dost thou seek me out?
APEMANTUS.
To vex thee.
TIMON.
Always a villain’s office or a fool’s.
Dost please thyself in’t?
APEMANTUS.
Ay.
TIMON.
What, a knave too?
APEMANTUS.
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 incertain pomp, is crowned 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.
TIMON.
Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave whom Fortune’s tender arm
With favour never clasped, but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
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 general riot, melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust and never learned
The icy precepts of respect, but followed
The sugared 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 flattered 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.
APEMANTUS.
Art thou proud yet?
TIMON.
Ay, that I am not thee.
APEMANTUS.
I, that I was no prodigal.
TIMON.
I, that I am one now.
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I’d give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.
That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.
[_Eats a root._]
APEMANTUS.
Here, I will mend thy feast.
TIMON.
First mend my company, take away thyself.
APEMANTUS.
So I shall mend mine own, by th’ lack of thine.
TIMON.
’Tis not well mended so, it is but botched.
If not, I would it were.
APEMANTUS.
What wouldst thou have to Athens?
TIMON.
Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
Tell them there I have gold. Look, so I have.
APEMANTUS.
Here is no use for gold.
TIMON.
The best and truest,
For here it sleeps and does no hired harm.
APEMANTUS.
Where liest a-nights, Timon?
TIMON.
Under that’s above me. Where feed’st thou a-days, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS.
Where my stomach finds meat, or rather where I eat it.
TIMON.
Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!
APEMANTUS.
Where wouldst thou send it?
TIMON.
To sauce thy dishes.
APEMANTUS.
The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both
ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for
too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know’st none, but art despised for
the contrary. There’s a medlar for thee. Eat it.
TIMON.
On what I hate I feed not.
APEMANTUS.
Dost hate a medlar?
TIMON.
Ay, though it look like thee.
APEMANTUS.
An thou’dst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself
better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved
after his means?
TIMON.
Who, without those means thou talk’st of, didst thou ever know beloved?
APEMANTUS.
Myself.
TIMON.
I understand thee. Thou hadst some means to keep a dog.
APEMANTUS.
What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?
TIMON.
Women nearest; but men—men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou
do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
APEMANTUS.
Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
TIMON.
Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men and remain a
beast with the beasts?
APEMANTUS.
Ay, Timon.
TIMON.
A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t’ attain to. If thou
wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the
fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee
when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass; if thou wert the ass,
thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou lived’st but as a
breakfast to the wolf; if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would
afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner.
Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make
thine own self the conquest of thy fury; wert thou a bear, thou wouldst
be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by
the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert germane to the lion, and
the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy safety were
remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be that were
not subject to a beast? And what beast art thou already that seest not
thy loss in transformation!
APEMANTUS.
If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit
upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
TIMON.
How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?
APEMANTUS.
Yonder comes a poet and a painter. The plague of company light upon
thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else
to do, I’ll see thee again.
TIMON.
When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had
rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.
APEMANTUS.
Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
TIMON.
Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
APEMANTUS.
A plague on thee! Thou art too bad to curse.
TIMON.
All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
APEMANTUS.
There is no leprosy but what thou speak’st.
TIMON.
If I name thee,
I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
APEMANTUS.
I would my tongue could rot them off!
TIMON.
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me that thou art alive.
I swoon to see thee.
APEMANTUS.
Would thou wouldst burst!
TIMON.
Away, thou tedious rogue!
I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
[_Throws a stone at him._]
APEMANTUS.
Beast!
TIMON.
Slave!
APEMANTUS.
Toad!
TIMON.
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
But even the mere necessities upon’t.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave.
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy gravestone daily. Make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others’ lives may laugh.
[_To the gold._] O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce
’Twixt natural son and sire; thou bright defiler
Of Hymen’s purest bed, thou valiant Mars;
Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
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!
APEMANTUS.
Would ’twere so!
But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold;
Thou wilt be thronged to shortly.
TIMON.
Thronged to?
APEMANTUS.
Ay.
TIMON.
Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS.
Live and love thy misery.
TIMON.
Long live so, and so die! I am quit.
APEMANTUS.
More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
[_Exit Apemantus._]
Enter Banditti.
FIRST BANDIT.
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.
SECOND BANDIT.
It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIRD BANDIT.
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?
SECOND BANDIT.
True, for he bears it not about him. ’Tis hid.
FIRST BANDIT.
Is not this he?
BANDITTI.
Where?
SECOND BANDIT.
’Tis his description.
THIRD BANDIT.
He; I know him.
BANDITTI.
Save thee, Timon!
TIMON.
Now, thieves?
BANDITTI.
Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON.
Both too, and women’s sons.
BANDITTI.
We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
TIMON.
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 briars scarlet hips,
The bounteous housewife Nature on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?
FIRST BANDIT.
We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
As beasts and birds and fishes.
TIMON.
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, 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 o’ th’ 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 villainy, do, since you protest 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 stol’n
From general excrement. Each thing’s a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Has unchecked 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 no less for this I give you,
And gold confound you howsoe’er! Amen.
THIRD BANDIT.
Has almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.
FIRST BANDIT.
’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us
thrive in our mystery.
SECOND BANDIT.
I’ll believe him as an enemy and give over my trade.
FIRST BANDIT.
Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a
man may be true.
[_Exeunt Banditti._]
Enter Flavius.
FLAVIUS.
O you gods!
Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed!
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 wished 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.
Away! What art thou?
FLAVIUS.
Have you forgot me, sir?
TIMON.
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men.
Then, if thou grant’st thou’rt a man, I have forgot thee.
FLAVIUS.
An honest poor servant of yours.
TIMON.
Then I know thee not.
I never had honest man about me. I; all
I kept were knaves to serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS.
The gods are witness,
Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
TIMON.
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!
FLAVIUS.
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
T’ accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts
To entertain me as your steward still.
TIMON.
Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
Let me behold thy face. Surely this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man, mistake me not, but one;
No more, I pray, and he’s 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,
A usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
FLAVIUS.
No, my most worthy master, in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late.
You should have feared 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 honoured 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.
TIMON.
Look thee, ’tis so! Thou singly honest man,
Here, take. The gods out of my misery
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,
But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
But let the famished flesh slide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow ’em,
Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so farewell and thrive.
FLAVIUS.
O, let me stay
And comfort you, my master.
TIMON.
If thou hat’st curses,
Stay not. Fly whilst thou’rt blest and free.
Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.
[_Exeunt severally._]
ACT V
SCENE I. The woods. Before Timon’s cave
Enter Poet and Painter.
PAINTER.
As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
POET.
What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he is
so full of gold?
PAINTER.
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?
PAINTER.
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 travail for, if it be a
just and true report that goes of his having.
POET.
What have you now to present unto him?
PAINTER.
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.
PAINTER.
Good as the best. Promising is the very air o’ th’ 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.
Enter Timon from his cave.
TIMON.
[_Aside_.] Excellent workman! Thou canst not 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.
TIMON.
[_Aside_.] 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.
PAINTER.
True.
When the day serves, before black-cornered night,
Find what thou want’st by free and offered light.
Come.
TIMON.
[_Aside_.] I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold,
That he is worshipped in a baser temple
Than where swine feed!
’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plough’st the foam,
Settlest admired reverence in a slave.
To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye
Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey!
Fit I meet them.
[_He comes forward._]
POET.
Hail, worthy Timon!
PAINTER.
Our late noble master!
TIMON.
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 am rapt and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.
TIMON.
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.
PAINTER.
He and myself
Have travailed in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.
TIMON.
Ay, you are honest men.
PAINTER.
We are hither come to offer you our service.
TIMON.
Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
Can you eat roots and drink cold water? No?
BOTH.
What we can do we’ll do, to do you service.
TIMON.
Ye’re honest men. Ye’ve heard that I have gold,
I am sure you have. Speak truth, you’re honest men.
PAINTER.
So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON.
Good honest men! [_To Painter_.] Thou draw’st a counterfeit
Best in all Athens. Thou’rt indeed the best,
Thou counterfeit’st most lively.
PAINTER.
So so, my lord.
TIMON.
E’en so, sir, as I say. [_To the Poet_.] And for thy fiction,
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.
Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.
BOTH.
Beseech your honour
To make it known to us.
TIMON.
You’ll take it ill.
BOTH.
Most thankfully, my lord.
TIMON.
Will you indeed?
BOTH.
Doubt it not, worthy lord.
TIMON.
There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave
That mightily deceives you.
BOTH.
Do we, my lord?
TIMON.
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom, yet remain assured
That he’s a made-up villain.
PAINTER.
I know not such, my lord.
POET.
Nor I.
TIMON.
Look you, I love you well. I’ll give you gold.
Rid me these villains from your companies,
Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
I’ll give you gold enough.
BOTH.
Name them, my lord, let’s know them.
TIMON.
You that way, and you this, but two in company.
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
[_To one_.] If where thou art, two villians shall not be,
Come not near him. [_To the other_.] If thou wouldst not reside
But where one villain is, then him abandon.
Hence, pack! There’s gold. You came for gold, ye slaves.
[_To one_.] You have work for me, there’s payment, hence!
[_To the other_.] You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
Out, rascal dogs!
[_Timon drives them out and then retires to his cave_]
SCENE II. The same
Enter Flavius and two Senators.
FLAVIUS.
It is vain that you would speak with Timon.
For he is set so only to himself
That nothing but himself which looks like man
Is friendly with him.
FIRST SENATOR.
Bring us to his cave.
It is our part and promise to th’ Athenians
To speak with Timon.
SECOND SENATOR.
At all times alike
Men are not still the same: ’twas time and griefs
That framed him thus. Time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him. Bring us to him
And chance it as it may.
FLAVIUS.
Here is his cave.
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon,
Look out and speak to friends. The Athenians
By two of their most reverend senate greet thee.
Speak to them, noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his cave.
TIMON.
Thou sun that comforts, burn! Speak and be hanged!
For each true word, a blister, and each false
Be as a cantherizing to the root o’ th’ tongue,
Consuming it with speaking.
FIRST SENATOR.
Worthy Timon—
TIMON.
Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
FIRST SENATOR.
The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
TIMON.
[_Aside_.] I thank them and would send them back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.
FIRST SENATOR.
O, forget
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators with one consent of love
Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
SECOND SENATOR.
They confess
Toward thee forgetfulness too general gross,
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
Play the recanter, feeling in itself
A lack of Timon’s aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon,
And send forth us to make their sorrowed render,
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram,
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth,
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.
TIMON.
You witch me in it,
Surprise me to the very brink of tears.
Lend me a fool’s heart and a woman’s eyes
And I’ll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
FIRST SENATOR.
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,
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority. So soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades th’ approaches wild,
Who like a boar too savage doth root up
His country’s peace.
SECOND SENATOR.
And shakes his threatening sword
Against the walls of Athens.
FIRST SENATOR.
Therefore, Timon—
TIMON.
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
And take our goodly aged men by th’ beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brained war,
Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,
In pity of our aged and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him that I care not;
And—let him take’t at worst—for their knives care not
While you have throats to answer. For myself,
There’s not a whittle in th’ unruly camp
But I do prize it at my love before
The reverend’st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the prosperous gods,
As thieves to keepers.
FLAVIUS.
Stay not, all’s in vain.
TIMON.
Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
It will be seen tomorrow. My long sickness
Of health and living now begins to mend
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still,
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
And last so long enough.
FIRST SENATOR.
We speak in vain.
TIMON.
But yet I love my country and am not
One that rejoices in the common wrack,
As common bruit doth put it.
FIRST SENATOR.
That’s well spoke.
TIMON.
Commend me to my loving countrymen.
FIRST SENATOR.
These words become your lips as they pass through them.
SECOND SENATOR.
And enter in our ears like great triumphers
In their applauding gates.
TIMON.
Commend me to them,
And tell them that to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature’s fragile vessel doth sustain
In life’s uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them;
I’ll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades’ wrath.
FIRST SENATOR.
[_Aside_.] I like this well, he will return again.
TIMON.
I have a tree which grows here in my close
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it. Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither ere my tree hath felt the axe
And hang himself. I pray you do my greeting.
FLAVIUS.
Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.
TIMON.
Come not to me again, but say to Athens
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood,
Who once a day with his embossed froth
The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come,
And let my gravestone be your oracle.
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end:
What is amiss, plague and infection mend;
Graves only be men’s works and death their gain,
Sun, hide thy beams, Timon hath done his reign.
[_Exit Timon into his cave._]
FIRST SENATOR.
His discontents are unremovably
Coupled to nature.
SECOND SENATOR.
Our hope in him is dead. Let us return
And strain what other means is left unto us
In our dear peril.
FIRST SENATOR.
It requires swift foot.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. Before the walls of Athens
Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.
FIRST SENATOR.
Thou hast painfully discovered. Are his files
As full as thy report?
MESSENGER.
I have spoke the least.
Besides, his expedition promises
Present approach.
SECOND SENATOR.
We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon.
MESSENGER.
I met a courier, one mine ancient friend,
Whom, though in general part we were opposed,
Yet our old love made a particular force
And made us speak like friends. This man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timon’s cave
With letters of entreaty, which imported
His fellowship i’ th’ cause against your city,
In part for his sake moved.
Enter the other Senators from Timon.
THIRD SENATOR.
Here come our brothers.
FIRST SENATOR.
No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.
The enemy’s drum is heard, and fearful scouring
Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare.
Ours is the fall, I fear, our foe’s the snare.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE IV. The woods. Timon’s cave, and a rude tomb seen
Enter a Soldier in the woods, seeking Timon.
SOLDIER.
By all description this should be the place.
Who’s here? Speak, ho! No answer? What is this?
_Timon is dead, who hath outstretched his span.
Some beast read this; there does not live a man._
Dead, sure, and this his grave. What’s on this tomb
I cannot read. The character I’ll take with wax.
Our captain hath in every figure skill,
An aged interpreter, though young in days.
Before proud Athens he’s set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.
[_Exit._]
SCENE V. Before the walls of Athens
Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers before Athens.
ALCIBIADES.
Sound to this coward and lascivious town
Our terrible approach.
[_A parley sounds._]
The Senators appear upon the walls.
Till now you have gone on and filled the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice. Till now myself and such
As slept within the shadow of your power
Have wandered 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
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,
And pursy insolence shall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.
FIRST SENATOR.
Noble and young,
When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear,
We sent to thee to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
Above their quantity.
SECOND SENATOR.
So did we woo
Transformed Timon to our city’s love
By humble message and by promised means.
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common stroke of war.
FIRST SENATOR.
These walls of ours
Were not erected by their hands from whom
You have received your griefs; nor are they such
That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall
For private faults in them.
SECOND SENATOR.
Nor are they living
Who were the motives that you first went out.
Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess
Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spread.
By decimation and a tithed death,
If thy revenges hunger for that food
Which nature loathes, take thou the destined tenth,
And by the hazard of the spotted die
Let die the spotted.
FIRST SENATOR.
All have not offended.
For those that were, it is not square to take,
On those that are, revenge. Crimes, like lands,
Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,
Bring in thy ranks but leave without thy rage;
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 th’ infected forth,
But kill not all together.
SECOND SENATOR.
What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
Than hew to ’t with thy sword.
FIRST SENATOR.
Set but thy foot
Against our rampired gates and they shall ope,
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before
To say thou’lt enter friendly.
SECOND SENATOR.
Throw thy glove,
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 sealed thy full desire.
ALCIBIADES.
Then there’s my glove;
Descend and open your uncharged ports.
Those enemies of Timon’s and mine own
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof
Fall, and no more. And, to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass his quarter or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city’s bounds,
But shall be remedied to your public laws
At heaviest answer.
BOTH.
’Tis most nobly spoken.
ALCIBIADES.
Descend, and keep your words.
[_The Senators descend._]
Enter a Soldier.
SOLDIER.
My noble general, Timon is dead,
Entombed upon the very hem o’ th’ sea,
And on his gravestone this insculpture, which
With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
Interprets for my poor ignorance.
ALCIBIADES.
[_Reads the Epitaph._] _Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul
bereft.
Seek not my name. A plague consume you, wicked caitiffs left!
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.
Though thou abhorred’st in us our human griefs,
Scorned’st our brains’ flow and those our droplets which
From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead
Is noble Timon, of whose memory
Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword,
Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each
Prescribe to other, as each other’s leech.
Let our drums strike.
[_Exeunt._]