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 gavest thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel-

come

To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just,

That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again, Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my like

ness.

Timon. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Ape. 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 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'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 exposed,

Answer mere nature;-bid them flatter thee
O! thou shalt find-

Timon.

A fool of thee. Depart.

Ape. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Timon. I hate thee worse.

Ape.

Timon.

Why?

Thou flatter'st misery.

Ape. I flatter not; but say, thou art a caitiff.
Timon. Why dost thou seek me out?

Ape.

To vex thee.

Timon. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in 't?

Ape.
Timon.

Ay.

What! a knave too?

Ape. 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 crown'd before : 1
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,2 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,3 proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords

1 Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes.

2 Voice, sentence.

SHAK.

X.

3 From infancy.

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 learn'd
The icy precepts 1 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.

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.

Ape.

[eating a root.

Here; I will mend thy feast.
[offering him something.

Timon. First mend my company, take away

thyself.

Ape. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

Timon. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were.

Ape. What wouldst thou have to Athens ?

Timon. Thee thither in a whirlwind.

wilt,

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
Ape. Here is no use for gold.

Timon.

If thou

The best and truest:

For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

Ape. Where liest o' nights, Timon?
Timon.

Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus ?

Ape. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Timon. Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind!

Ape. Where wouldst thou send it?

Timon. To sauce thy dishes.

Ape. 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;1 in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee; eat it.

Timon. On what I hate I feed not.
Ape. Dost hate a medlar?

Timon. Ay, though it look like thee.

Ape. An thou hadst hated medlers 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 talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?

Ape. Myself.

Timon. I understand thee: thou hadst some means to keep a dog.

Ape. 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?

Ape. 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?

Ape. Ay, Timon.

Timon. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant

1 For too much finical delicacy.