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, Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, Make large confusion; and thy fury spent, 2 Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou giv'st me, Not all thy counsel. Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! Phr. & Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon : hast thou more? Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, And to make whores abhorr'd3. 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, The 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 hang'd, No matter:-wear them, betray with them: whore still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face : A pox of wrinkles! Phry. & Timan. Well, more gold.-What then?— Believe 't, that we 'll do any thing for gold. Tim. Consumptions sow 1 objects: in f. e. 2 Not in f. e. 3 a bawd: in f. e. In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen, And not believes himself: down with the nose, Smells from the general weal: make curl’d-pate ruffians bald; And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war The source of all erection.-There's more gold: [Throwing it.' 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. Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon: If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Call'st thou that harm? Alcib. Alcib. Strike! We but offend him. [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, Phrynia, and TIMANDRA. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou, [Digging. Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, 1 Not in f. e. Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; Never presented!-O! a root :-dear thanks! 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 infected ; A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? self; A madman so long, now a fool. What! think'st 1 marrows in f. e. 2 future in folio. 3 Hanmer reads: moss'd. That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures,— Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, Answer mere nature,—bid them flatter thee; O! thou shalt find Tim. A fool of thee. Depart. Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. Thou flatter'st misery. To vex thee. Apem. I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff. Apem. Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in 't? Apem. Tim. Ay. What! a knave too? Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself 1 drugs: in f. e. The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men Apem. I, that I am one now: Art thou proud yet? I, that I was Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.- Apem. [Eating a root. Here; I will mend thy feast. [Offering something. Tim. First mend my' company, take away thyself. Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. Tim. 'T is not well mended so, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were. Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens ? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold: look, so I have. Apem. Here is no use for gold. The best, and truest; Tim. Tim. Under that's above me. Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus? Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it. 1 thy: in folio. Rowe made the change. |