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2 Var. Serv. My lord,

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Tim. Tear me, take me; and the gods fall upon To revenge is no valour, but to bear. you!

[Exit. Alcib. My lords, then under favour, pardon me, If I speak like a captain.

Hor. Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money; these debts may well be called desperate ones. for a madman owes 'em. [Exeunt. Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS.

Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves:

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Be't not in thy care: go,
I charge thee; invite them all let in the tide
Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The Same. The Senate-House. The Senate sitting. Enter ALCIBIADES, attended. 1 Sen. My lord, you have my voice to 't: the fault's bloody; 't is necessary he should die.

Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

2 Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise him.

Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threats? sleep upon 't,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
Without repugnancy? if there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? why then, women are more valiant,
That stay at home, if bearing carry it,

And the ass more captain than the lion; the fellow,
Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge,
If wisdom be in suffering. O, my lords!

As you are great, be pitifully good :

Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;
But in defence, by mercy, 't is most just.
To be in anger, is impiety;

But who is man, that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.

2 Sen. You breathe in vain.
Alcib.

In vain? his service done

At Lacedæmon, and Byzantium,
Were a sufficient briber for his life.
Sen. What's that?

Alcib. Why, say my lords, he has done fair service,
And slain in fight many of your enemies.
How full of valour did he bear himself

In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds?
2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with 'em,'
He's a sworn rioter: he has a sin, that often
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner.

Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to the Were there no foes, that were itself enough

senate!

1 Sen. Now, captain?

Alcib. I am an humble suitor to your virtues ;
For pity is the virtue of the law,
And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
Upon a friend of mine; who, in hot blood,
Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
To those that without heed do plunge into 't.
He is a man, setting his fault aside,
Of comely virtues :

Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice;
(An honour in him which buys out his fault)
But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
He did oppose his foe:

And with such sober and unnoted passion
He did reprove his anger, ere 't was spent,
As if he had but mov'd3 an argument.

1 Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:

Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd
To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,

Is valour misbegot, and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born.
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides; to wear them like his raiment, carelessly,

To overcome him: in that beastly fury
He has been known to commit outrages,
And cherish factions. "T is inferr'd' to us,
His days are foul, and his drink dangerous.
1 Sen. He dies.

Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died in war.
My lords, if not for any parts in him,
Though his right arm might purchase his own time.
And be in debt to none, yet, more to move you,
Take my deserts to his, and join them both:
And for, I know, your reverend ages love
Security, I'll pawn my victories, all
My honour to you, upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receiv't in valiant gore;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

1 Sen. We are for law: he dies; urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend, or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.

Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, I do beseech you, know me.

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1 First folio inserts: Ullorxa. 2 behave: in f. e. prov'd in f. e. no foes, that were enough: in f. e. 1 Brought

Do you dare our anger?

I say in second folio. 5 him in first folio If there waȘT

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He shall be executed presently.

And, not to swell our

[Exeunt Senators.

Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live

Only in bone, that none may look on you.

I am worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
While they have told their money, and let out
Their coin upon large interest; I myself,
Rich only in large hurts:-all those, for this?
Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment!
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd:
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
My discontented troops, and lay' for hearts.
'T is honour with most lands to be at odds;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. [Exit.
SCENE VI.—A Banquet-hall in TIMON's House.
Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. Enter
divers Lords, at several Doors.

1 Lord. The good time of day to you, sir.
2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think, this
able lord did but try us this other day.

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2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours before,Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. -Come, bring in all together. [To the Servants.'

2 Lord. All covered dishes!

1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you.

3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money, and the season can yield it.

1 Lord. How do you? What's the news?

3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished hear you of it?

1 & 2 Lord. Alcibiades banished!

3 Lord. 'T is so; be sure of it.

1 Lord How? how?

2 Lord. I pray you, upon what?

Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near? 3 Lord. I'll tell you more anon.

feast toward.

2 Lord. This is the old man still.

3 Lord. Will 't hold? will 't hold?
2 Lord. It does; but time will show.
3 Lord. I do conceive.

Here's a noble

Tim. 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 honour-meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place: sit, sit. The gods require our thanks.

2

1 Lord. 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. 2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

1 Lord. 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.

2 Lord. 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 pro

vision was out.

1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.

"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 tags 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."

2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he Uncover, dogs, and lap. have borrowed of you?

1 Lord. A thousand pieces.

2 Lord. A thousand pieces!

1 Lord. What of you?

3 Lord. He sent to me, sir.-Here he comes.

Enter TIMON, and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both :-And how fare you?

1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

2 Lord The swallow follows not summer more willingly, than we your lordship.

Tim. [Asule.] Nor more willingly leaves winter; such summer-bírds are men. [To them.] Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o' the trumpet's sound; we shall to 't presently. 1 Lord. I hope, it remains not unkindly with your lordship, that I returned you an empty messenger. Tim. O sir, let it not trouble you.

2 Lord. My noble lord,—

1 Lay out

⚫lag: in (.e

[The Dishes uncovered are full of warm water. Some speak. What does his lordship mean? Some other. I know not.

Tim. May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends! smoke, and luke-warm
water

Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces

[Throwing water in their faces.
Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd 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!-What! dost thou go?
Soft, take thy physic first-thou too,-and thou :-

[Throws the Dishes at them, and drives them out.
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.—
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast,

2 To tire on, is to fasten on, like a bird of prey on its victim. Z. Jackson reads: stirring.
Altered from leg, in folio.

Not in f. e.

fees. in t..

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SCENE I.-Without the Walls of Athens.

Enter TIMON.

steal!

Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdlest 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' the 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,
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' the 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 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
O 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 the 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.

[Casting away his Clothes.'
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)
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. A Room in TIMON'S House.

Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants.

I am as poor as you.
1 Serv.

Such a house broke!
So noble a master fallen All gone, and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him!

2 Serv.
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.

Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house.
3 Serv. 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.

Good fellows all,

Flav.
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 't were a knell unto our master's fortunes,
"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.

[They embrace, and part several way
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'd be so mock'd with glory as to live
But in a dream of friendship? and revive
To have his pomp, and all state comprehends,*
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 gods, does still mar men.
My dearest lord.-bless'd, to be most accurs'd,
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:

1 Serv. Hear you, master steward! where's our Nor hath he with him to supply his life,
master?

Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

Or that which can command it.
I'll follow, and inquire him out:

Flav. Alack! my fellows, what should I say to you? I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold I'll be his steward still.

Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

1 Not in f. e. a or in f. e. The words, "and revive," are not in f. e. all what state compounds: in f. e. • Disposition

[Ex

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SCENE III.-The Woods.

Enter TIMON, with a Spade.

689

Tim. I know thee too; and more, than tha I know thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

Tim. O, blessed breeding sun! draw from the earth With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb

Infect the air. Twinn'a 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 decline' 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 is 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?
[Finding gold.
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
I am no idol' 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' accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, 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 the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st 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. [Reserving some gold.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with Drum and Fife, in warlike
manner; and PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.
What art thou there?

Alcib.

Speak.

Tim. A beast, as thou art.
heart,

The canker gnaw thy

For showing me again the eyes of man!

Alcib. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee That art thyself a man?

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.

Phry.

Thy lips rot off!

Tim. I will not kiss thee; then, the rot returns
To thine own lips again.

Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this change?
Tim. 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.

Alcib.

What friendship may I do thee?

Tim.

Maintain my opinion.

Noble Timon,

None, but to

What is it, Timon?

Alcib. Tim. 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!

Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. Alcib. I see them now; then was a blessed time. Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. Timan. Is this th' Athenian minion, whom the world Voic'd so regardfully?

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Tim. 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.

Hang thee, monster!
Timan.
Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wit
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.-

I have had 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,—
Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
Tim. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost
trouble?

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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-vic'd city hang his poison
I know thee well; In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;

Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
Alcib.

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

4 Not in f. e. 5 idle in f. e. • Fealiko

8 fub: in folio. Warburton made the change. 1 deny 't: in f. e. A horned beast. brother. in folio. Singer made the change. 3 Degree. Sometimes done to the dying, to shorten their death agonies.

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 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.

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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,

Make large confusion; and thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not; be gone.
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,
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

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:

Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!

With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shize;
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;

[Throwing it. 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 moist' trees,
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,-
Fare- Whose naked natures live in all the spite

Phr. & Timan. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

Tim. More whore, more mischief first: I have you earnest.

Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens! well, Timon:

1 objects: in f. e. 2 Not in f. e. a bawd: in f. e. "Hanmer reads: moss'd.

given

Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,

Not in f. e. marrows: in f. e. future: in folio. Rowe made the chang

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