The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 509

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 lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire, With it beat out his brains. Piety and fear, Religion to the G.o.ds, 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. l.u.s.t 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 G.o.ds confound- hear me, you good G.o.ds all- The 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. 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 G.o.ds, I am as poor as you.

FIRST SERVANT. Such a house broke!

So n.o.ble 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 pick'd; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

Enter other SERVANTS

FLAVIUS. All broken implements of a ruin'd 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. Leak'd 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.

[Giving them money]

Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more!

Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

[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 mock'd 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 varnish'd 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 G.o.ds, does still mar men.

My dearest lord- blest to be most accurst, 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 enquire 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.

The woods near the sea-sh.o.r.e. Before TIMON'S cave

Enter TIMON in the woods

TIMON. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's...o...b..Infect the air! Twinn'd 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 grise of fortune Is smooth'd by that below. The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool. All's oblique; There's nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorr'd All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!

His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.

Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots.

[Digging]

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison. What is here?

Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, G.o.ds, I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base n.o.ble, old young, coward valiant.

Ha, you G.o.ds! why this? What, this, you G.o.ds? 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' accurs'd, Make the h.o.a.r leprosy ador'd, place thieves And give them t.i.tle, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench. This is it That makes the wappen'd widow wed again- She whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at this embalms and spices To th 'April day again. Come, d.a.m.n'd earth, Thou common wh.o.r.e of mankind, that puts odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Do thy right nature. [March afar off]

Ha! a drum? Th'art quick, But yet I'll bury thee. Thou't 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 unlearn'd 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 wh.o.r.e 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 n.o.ble 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. n.o.ble 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 G.o.ds plague thee, for thou art 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 Voic'd so regardfully?

TIMON. Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA. Yes.

TIMON. Be a wh.o.r.e still; they love thee not that use thee.

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their l.u.s.t.

Make use of thy salt hours. Season the slaves For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd youth To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA. Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd 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 griev'd, 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.