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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 pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse swear against abjects;1
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 :
[Throwing it.

Make large confusion; and thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not; be gone.

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,
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 curl’d-pate 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:

[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.
Alcib. I never did thee harm.

Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me.

Call'st thou that harm?

Alcib.
Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee away,
And take thy beagles with thee.

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,
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

1 Not in f. e.

Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
Yield him, who all the 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 meadows', vines, and plough-torn leas;
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish drafts,
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 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 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 bade welcome,
To knaves, and all approachers; 't is most just,
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
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 thy-

self;

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 moist3 trees,
Rowe made the change.

1 marrows in f. e. 2 future in folio. 3 Hanmer reads: moss'd.

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,

To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures,—
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

Tim.

A fool of thee.

Depart.

Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Tim. I hate thee worse.

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Thou flatter'st misery.

To vex thee.

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

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
To castigate thy pride, 't were well; but thou
Dost it enforcedly thou 'dst courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives incertain 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 favour never clasp'd, 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 dugs1 of it

Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and 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 ;

1 drugs: in f. e.

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.

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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.-
That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.

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.
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
Apem. Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?

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.

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