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  • 1623
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You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flyes, Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Iackes. Of Man and Beast, the infinite Maladie
Crust you quite o’re. What do’st thou go? Soft, take thy Physicke first; thou too, and thou: Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none. What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feast, Whereat a Villaine’s not a welcome Guest. Burne house, sinke Athens, henceforth hated be Of Timon Man, and all Humanity.

Exit

Enter the Senators, with other Lords.

1 How now, my Lords?
2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury? 3 Push, did you see my Cap?
4 I haue lost my Gowne

1 He’s but a mad Lord, & nought but humors swaies him. He gaue me a Iewell th’ other day, and now hee has beate it out of my hat.
Did you see my Iewell?
2 Did you see my Cap

3 Heere ’tis

4 Heere lyes my Gowne

1 Let’s make no stay

2 Lord Timons mad

3 I feel’t vpon my bones

4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt. the Senators.

Enter Timon.

Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall That girdles in those Wolues, diue in the earth, And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne incontinent, Obedience fayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench, And minister in their steeds, to generall Filthes. Conuert o’th’ Instant greene Virginity,
Doo’t in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast Rather then render backe; out with your Kniues, And cut your Trusters throates. Bound Seruants, steale, Large-handed Robbers your graue Masters are, And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed, Thy Mistris is o’th’ Brothell. Some of sixteen, Plucke the lyn’d Crutch from thy old limping Sire, With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare, Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iustice, Truth, Domesticke awe, Night-rest, and Neighbourhood, Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades, Degrees, Obseruances, Customes, and Lawes, Decline to your confounding contraries.
And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious Feauors, heape On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold Sciatica, Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt As lamely as their Manners. Lust, and Libertie Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth, That ‘gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue, And drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines, So we all th’ Athenian bosomes, and their crop Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath, That their Society (as their Friendship) may Be meerely poyson. Nothing Ile beare from thee But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne,
Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes: Timon will to the Woods, where he shall finde Th’ vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde. The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all) Th’ Athenians both within and out that Wall: And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low. Amen.
Enter.

Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.

1 Heare you M[aster]. Steward, where’s our Master? Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining? Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as you

1 Such a House broke?
So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme, And go along with him

2 As we do turne our backes
From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes
Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,
With his disease, of all shunn’d pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes. Enter other Seruants.

Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin’d house

3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak’d is our Barke, And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke, Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part Into this Sea of Ayre

Stew. Good Fellowes all,
The latest of my wealth Ile share among’st you. Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake, Let’s yet be Fellowes. Let’s shake our heads, and say As ’twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.

Embrace and part seuerall wayes.

Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! 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 liue But in a Dreame of Friendship,
To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst sinne is, He do’s too much Good. Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord) Hee’s flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends:
Nor ha’s he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it:
Ile follow and enquire him out.
Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still. Enter.

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity: below thy Sisters Orbe
Infect the ayre. Twin’d Brothers of one wombe, Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes, The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature (To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great Fortune But by contempt of Nature.
Raise me this Begger, and deny’t that Lord, The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary, The Begger Natiue Honor.
It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides, The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares In puritie of Manhood stand vpright
And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be, So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune Is smooth’d by that below. The Learned pate Duckes to the Golden Foole. All’s obliquie: There’s nothing leuell in our cursed Natures But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr’d, All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men. His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines, Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes, Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate With thy most operant Poyson. What is heere? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold? No Gods, I am no idle Votarist,
Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make Blacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right; Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant. Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this Will lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides: Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads. This yellow Slaue,
Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th’ accurst, Make the hoare Leprosie ador’d, place Theeues, And giue them Title, knee, and approbation With Senators on the Bench: This is it
That makes the wappen’d Widdow wed againe; Shee, whom the Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores, Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices To’th’ Aprill day againe. Come damn’d Earth, Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddes Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee Do thy right Nature.

March afarre off.

Ha? A Drumme? Th’art quicke,
But yet Ile bury thee: Thou’t go (strong Theefe) When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand: Nay stay thou out for earnest.
Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia and
Timandra.

Alc. What art thou there? speake

Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart For shewing me againe the eyes of Man

Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee, That art thy selfe a Man?
Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge, That I might loue thee something

Alc. I know thee well:
But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn’d, and strange

Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme, With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules: Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell, Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine, Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword, For all her Cherubin looke

Phrin. Thy lips rot off

Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes To thine owne lippes againe

Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change? Tim. As the Moone do’s, by wanting light to giue: But then renew I could not like the Moone, There were no Sunnes to borrow of

Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee? Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion

Alc. What is it Timon?
Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none. If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou art a man: if thou do’st performe, confound thee, for thou art a man

Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries

Tim. Thou saw’st them when I had prosperitie

Alc. 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?
Tim. Art thou Timandra?
Timan. Yes

Tim. Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee, giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make vse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes and Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast, and the Diet

Timan. Hang thee Monster

Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown’d and lost in his Calamities.
I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon, The want whereof, doth dayly make reuolt In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu’d How cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them

Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone

Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon

Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble, I had rather be alone

Alc. Why fare thee well:
Heere is some Gold for thee

Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it

Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape

Tim. Warr’st thou ‘gainst Athens

Alc. I Timon, and haue cause

Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest, And thee after, when thou hast Conquer’d

Alc. Why me, Timon?
Tim. That by killing of Villaines
Thou was’t borne to conquer my Country. Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on; Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue
Will o’re some high-Vic’d City, hang his poyson In the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one: Pitty not honour’d Age for his white Beard, He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron, It is her habite onely, that is honest,
Her selfe’s a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke Make soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappes That through the window Barne bore at mens eyes, Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ,
But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe Whose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy; Thinke it a Bastard, whom the Oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects, Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes, Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes, Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a iot. There’s Gold to pay thy Souldiers, Make large confusion: and thy fury spent, Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone

Alc. Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest me, not all thy Counsell

Tim. Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon thee

Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more? Tim. Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade, And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable, Although I know you’l sweare, terribly sweare Into strong shudders, and to heauenly Agues Th’ immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes: Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still. And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you, Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp, Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six months Be quite contrary, And Thatch
Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead, (Some that were hang’d) no matter:
Weare them, betray with them; Whore still, Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face: A pox of wrinkles

Both. Well, more Gold, what then?
Beleeue’t that wee’l do any thing for Gold

Tim. Consumptions sowe
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes, And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce, That he may neuer more false Title pleade, Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen, That scold’st against the quality of flesh, And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose, Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away Of him, that his particular to foresee
Smels from the generall weale. Make curl’d pate Ruffians bald And let the vnscarr’d Braggerts of the Warre Deriue some paine from you. Plague all,
That your Actiuity may defeate and quell The sourse of all Erection. There’s more Gold. Do you damne others, and let this damne you, And ditches graue you all

Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous Timon

Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen you earnest

Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell Timon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe

Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more

Alc. I neuer did thee harme

Tim. Yes, thou spok’st well of me

Alc. Call’st thou that harme?
Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away, And take thy Beagles with thee

Alc. We but offend him, strike.

Exeunt.

Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brest Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft, Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew, The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom’d Worme, With all th’ abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen, Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine: Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate, From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote: Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe, Let it no more bring out ingratefull man. Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares, Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward face Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue
Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes: Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde, That from it all Consideration slippes-
Enter Apemantus.

More man? Plague, plague

Ape. I was directed hither. Men report, Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them

Tim. ‘Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee

Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung
From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft, Hugge their diseas’d Perfumes, and haue forgot That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a Carper.
Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue By that which ha’s vndone thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou’lt obserue Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine, And call it excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gau’st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: ‘Tis most iust That thou turne Rascall, had’st thou wealth againe, Rascals should haue’t. Do not assume my likenesse

Tim. Were I like thee, I’de throw away my selfe

Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think’st That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees, That haue out-liu’d the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point’st out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To cure thy o’re-nights surfet? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes, To the conflicting Elements expos’d
Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt finde

Tim. A Foole of thee: depart

Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did

Tim. I hate thee worse

Ape. Why?
Tim. Thou flatter’st misery

Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe

Tim. Why do’st thou seeke me out?
Ape. To vex thee

Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles. Dost please thy selfe in’t?
Ape. I

Tim. What, a Knaue too?
Ape. If thou did’st put this sowre cold habit on To castigate thy pride, ’twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly: Thou’dst Courtier be againe Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery
Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown’d before: The one is filling still, neuer compleat: The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse then the worst, Content.
Thou should’st desire to dye, being miserable

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge. Had’st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded, The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords, To such as may the passiue drugges of it Freely command’st: thou would’st haue plung’d thy self In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn’d The Icie precepts of respect, but followed The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe, Who had the world as my Confectionarie,
The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, At duty more then I could frame employment; That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare, For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this, That neuer knew but better, is some burthen: Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time Hath made thee hard in’t. Why should’st y hate Men? They neuer flatter’d thee. What hast thou giuen? If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge) Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone, If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men, Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer

Ape. Art thou proud yet?
Tim. I, that I am not thee

Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall

Tim. I, that I am one now.
Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee, I’ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone: That the whole life of Athens were in this, Thus would I eate it

Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast

Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe

Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by’th’ lacke of thine Tim. ‘Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht; If not, I would it were

Ape. What would’st thou haue to Athens? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt, Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue

Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold

Tim. The best, and truest:
For heere it sleepes, and do’s no hyred harme

Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon?
Tim. Vnder that’s aboue me.
Where feed’st thou a-dayes Apemantus? Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather where I eate it

Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind Ape. Where would’st thou send it?
Tim. To sawce thy dishes

Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest, but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know’st none, but art despis’d for the contrary. There’s a medler for thee, eate it

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not

Ape. Do’st hate a Medler?
Tim. I, though it looke like thee

Ape. And th’hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should’st haue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd’st thou euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes! Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk’st of, didst thou euer know belou’d?
Ape. My selfe

Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had’st some meanes to keepe a Dogge

Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest compare to thy Flatterers?
Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things themselues. What would’st thou do with the world Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men

Tim. Would’st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion of men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts

Ape. I Timon

Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt thee t’ attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus’d by the Asse: If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee; and still thou liu’dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee, & oft thou should’st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a Beare, thou would’st be kill’d by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou would’st be seaz’d by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What Beast could’st thou bee, that were not subiect to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already, that seest not thy losse in transformation

Ape. If thou could’st please me
With speaking to me, thou might’st
Haue hit vpon it heere.
The Commonwealth of Athens, is become A Forrest of Beasts

Tim. How ha’s the Asse broke the wall, that thou art out of the Citie

Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter: The plague of Company light vpon thee:
I will feare to catch it, and giue way. When I know not what else to do,
Ile see thee againe

Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee, Thou shalt be welcome.
I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,
Then Apemantus

Ape. Thou art the Cap
Of all the Fooles aliue

Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough
To spit vpon

Ape. A plague on thee,
Thou art too bad to curse

Tim. All Villaines
That do stand by thee, are pure

Ape. There is no Leprosie,
But what thou speak’st

Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee; But I should infect my hands

Ape. I would my tongue
Could rot them off

Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge, Choller does kill me,
That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee

Ape. Would thou would’st burst

Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee

Ape. Beast

Tim. Slaue

Ape. Toad

Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.
I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought But euen the meere necessities vpon’t:
Then Timon presently prepare thy graue: Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph, That death in me, at others liues may laugh. O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars, Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated Snow That lyes on Dians lap.
Thou visible God,
That souldrest close Impossibilities, And mak’st them kisse; that speak’st with euerie Tongue To euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts, Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts May haue the world in Empire

Ape. Would ’twere so,
But not till I am dead. Ile say th’hast Gold: Thou wilt be throng’d too shortly

Tim. Throng’d too?
Ape. I

Tim. Thy backe I prythee

Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery

Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit

Ape. Mo things like men,
Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Exit Apeman[tus].

Enter the Bandetti.

1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meere want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, droue him into this Melancholly

2 It is nois’d
He hath a masse of Treasure

3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for’t, he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how shall’s get it?
2 True: for he beares it not about him: ‘Tis hid

1 Is not this hee?
All. Where?
2 ‘Tis his description

3 He? I know him

All. Saue thee Timon

Tim. Now Theeues

All. Soldiers, not Theeues

Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes

All. We are not Theeues, but men
That much do want

Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat: Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes: Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs: The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps, The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush, Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want? 1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water, As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes

Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes, You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con, That you are Theeues profest: that you worke not In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft In limited Professions. Rascall Theeues
Heere’s Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o’th’ Grape, Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian, His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes
Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together, Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo’t. Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery: The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction Robbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe, And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne. The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth’s a Theefe, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne From gen’rall excrement: each thing’s a Theefe. The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power Ha’s vncheck’d Theft. Loue not your selues, away, Rob one another, there’s more Gold, cut throates, All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go, Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you, And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen

3 Has almost charm’d me from my Profession, by perswading me to it

1 ‘Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery

2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,
And giue ouer my Trade

1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.

Exit Theeues.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew. Oh you Gods!
Is yon’d despis’d and ruinous man my Lord? Full of decay and fayling? Oh Monument
And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow’d! What an alteration of Honor has desp’rate want made? What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends, Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends. How rarely does it meete with this times guise, When man was wisht to loue his Enemies:
Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo. Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefe vnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life. My deerest Master

Tim. Away: what art thou?
Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir?
Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men. Then, if thou grunt’st, th’art a man.
I haue forgot thee

Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours

Tim. Then I know thee not:
I neuer had honest man about me, I all I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines

Stew. The Gods are witnesse,
Neu’r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you

Tim. What, dost thou weepe?
Come neerer, then I loue thee
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim’st Flinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue, But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie’s sleeping: Strange times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping

Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord, T’ accept my greefe, and whil’st this poore wealth lasts, To entertaine me as your Steward still

Tim. Had I a Steward
So true, so iust, and now so comfortable? It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde. Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man Was borne of woman.
Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse You perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaime One honest man: Mistake me not, but one: No more I pray, and hee’s a Steward.
How faine would I haue hated all mankinde, And thou redeem’st thy selfe. But all saue thee, I fell with Curses.
Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise: For, by oppressing and betraying mee,
Thou might’st haue sooner got another Seruice: For many so arriue at second Masters,
Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true, (For I must euer doubt, though ne’re so sure) Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,
If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts, Expecting in returne twenty for one?
Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac’d too late: You should haue fear’d false times, when you did Feast. Suspect still comes, where an estate is least. That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue, Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde; Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it, My most Honour’d Lord,
For any benefit that points to mee, Either in hope, or present, I’de exchange For this one wish, that you had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich your selfe

Tim. Looke thee, ’tis so: thou singly honest man, Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie
Ha’s sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy, But thus condition’d: Thou shalt build from men: Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none, But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone, Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow ’em, Debts wither ’em to nothing, be men like blasted woods And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods, And so farewell, and thriue

Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master

Tim. If thou hat’st Curses
Stay not: flye, whil’st thou art blest and free: Ne’re see thou man, and let me ne’re see thee.

Exit

Enter Poet, and Painter.

Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre where he abides

Poet. What’s to be thought of him?
Does the Rumor hold for true,
That hee’s so full of Gold?
Painter. Certaine.
Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich’d
Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity. ‘Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward
A mighty summe

Poet. Then this breaking of his,
Ha’s beene but a Try for his Friends? Painter. Nothing else:
You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe, And flourish with the highest:
Therefore, ’tis not amisse, we tender our loues To him, in this suppos’d distresse of his: It will shew honestly in vs,
And is very likely, to loade our purposes With what they trauaile for,
If it be a iust and true report, that goes Of his hauing

Poet. What haue you now
To present vnto him?
Painter. Nothing at this time
But my Visitation: onely I will promise him An excellent Peece

Poet. I must serue him so too;
Tell him of an intent that’s comming toward him

Painter. Good as the best.
Promising, is the verie Ayre o’th’ Time; It opens the eyes of Expectation.
Performance, is euer the duller for his acte, And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people, The deede of Saying is quite out of vse. To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable; Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement That makes it.
Enter Timon from his Caue.

Timon. Excellent Workeman,
Thou canst not paint a man so badde As is thy selfe

Poet. I am thinking
What I shall say I haue prouided for him: It must be a personating of himselfe:
A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity, With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries That follow youth and opulencie

Timon. Must thou needes
Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke? Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men? Do so, I haue Gold for thee

Poet. Nay let’s seeke him.
Then do we sinne against our owne estate, When we may profit meete, and come too late

Painter. True:
When the day serues before blacke-corner’d night; Finde what thou want’st, by free and offer’d light. Come

Tim. Ile meete you at the turne:
What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede? ‘Tis thou that rigg’st the Barke, and plow’st the Fome, Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue,
To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye: Be crown’d with Plagues, that thee alone obay. Fit I meet them

Poet. Haile worthy Timon

Pain. Our late Noble Master

Timon. Haue I once liu’d
To see two honest men?
Poet. Sir:
Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted, Hearing you were retyr’d, your Friends falne off, Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits) Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough. What, to you,
Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couet The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude
With any size of words

Timon. Let it go,
Naked men may see’t the better:
You that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seene, and knowne

Pain. He, and my selfe
Haue trauail’d in the great showre of your guifts, And sweetly felt it

Timon. I, you are honest man

Painter. We are hither come
To offer you our seruice

Timon. Most honest men:
Why how shall I requite you?
Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no? Both. What we can do,
Wee’l do to do you seruice

Tim. Y’are honest men,
Y’haue heard that I haue Gold,
I am sure you haue, speake truth, y’are honest men

Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore Came not my Friend, nor I

Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw’st a counterfet Best in all Athens, th’art indeed the best, Thou counterfet’st most liuely

Pain. So, so, my Lord

Tim. E’ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction, Why thy Verse swels with stuffe so fine and smooth, That thou art euen Naturall in thine Art. But for all this (my honest Natur’d friends) I must needs say you haue a little fault, Marry ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much paines to mend

Both. Beseech your Honour
To make it knowne to vs

Tim. You’l take it ill

Both. Most thankefully, my Lord

Timon. Will you indeed?
Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord

Tim. There’s neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue, That mightily deceiues you

Both. Do we, my Lord?
Tim. I, and you heare him cogge,
See him dissemble,
Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him, Keepe in your bosome, yet remaine assur’d That he’s a made-vp-Villaine

Pain. I know none such, my Lord

Poet. Nor I

Timon. Looke you,
I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold
Rid me these Villaines from your companies; Hang them, or stab them, drowne them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, Ile giue you Gold enough

Both. Name them my Lord, let’s know them

Tim. You that way, and you this:
But two in Company:
Each man a part, all single, and alone, Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company: If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be, Come not neere him. If thou would’st not recide But where one Villaine is, then him abandon. Hence, packe, there’s Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues: You haue worke for me; there’s payment, hence, You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that:
Out Rascall dogges.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, and two Senators.

Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon: For he is set so onely to himselfe,
That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man, Is friendly with him

1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue.
It is our part and promise to th’ Athenians To speake with Timon

2.Sen. At all times alike
Men are not still the same: ’twas Time and Greefes That fram’d him thus. Time with his fairer hand, Offering the Fortunes of his former dayes, The former man may make him: bring vs to him And chanc’d it as it may

Stew. Heere is his Caue:
Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon, Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th’ Athenians By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee: Speake to them Noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his Caue.

Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne, Speake and be hang’d:
For each true word, a blister, and each false Be as a Cantherizing to the root o’th’ Tongue, Consuming it with speaking

1 Worthy Timon

Tim. Of none but such as you,
And you of Timon

1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon

Tim. I thanke them,
And would send them backe the plague, Could I but catch it for them

1 O forget
What we are sorry for our selues in thee: The Senators, with one consent of loue,
Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye
For thy best vse and wearing

2 They confesse
Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse; Which now the publike Body, which doth sildome Play the recanter, feeling in it selfe
A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall Of it owne fall, restraining ayde to Timon, And send forth vs, to make their sorrowed render, Together, with a recompence more fruitfull Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme, I euen such heapes and summes of Loue and Wealth, As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee the figures of their loue, Euer to read them thine

Tim. You witch me in it;
Surprize me to the very brinke of teares; Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes, And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators

1 Therefore so please thee to returne with vs, And of our Athens, thine and ours to take The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes, Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name Liue with Authoritie: so soone we shall driue backe Of Alcibiades th’ approaches wild,
Who like a Bore too sauage, doth root vp His Countries peace

2 And shakes his threatning Sword
Against the walles of Athens

1 Therefore Timon

Tim. Well sir, I will: therefore I will sir thus: If Alcibiades kill my Countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. But if he sacke faire Athens, And take our goodly aged men by’th’ Beards, Giuing our holy Virgins to the staine
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain’d warre: Then let him know, and tell him Timon speakes it, In pitty of our aged, and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, And let him tak’t at worst: For their Kniues care not, While you haue throats to answer. For my selfe, There’s not a whittle, in th’ vnruly Campe, But I do prize it at my loue, before
The reuerends Throat in Athens. So I leaue you To the protection of the prosperous Gods, As Theeues to Keepers

Stew. Stay not, all’s in vaine

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph, It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse Of Health, and Liuing, now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still, Be Alcibiades your plague; you his,
And last so long enough

1 We speake in vaine

Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not One that reioyces in the common wracke,
As common bruite doth put it

1 That’s well spoke

Tim. Commend me to my louing Countreymen

1 These words become your lippes as they passe thorow them

2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers In their applauding gates

Tim. Commend me to them,
And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes, Their feares of Hostile strokes, their Aches losses, Their pangs of Loue, with other incident throwes That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine In lifes vncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them, Ile teach them to preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath

1 I like this well, he will returne againe

Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Close, That mine owne vse inuites me to cut downe, And shortly must I fell it. Tell my Friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that who so please To stop Affliction, let him take his haste; Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe, And hang himselfe. I pray you do my greeting

Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall Finde him

Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens, Timon hath made his euerlasting Mansion
Vpon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood, Who once a day with his embossed Froth
The turbulent Surge shall couer; thither come, And let my graue-stone be your Oracle:
Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end: What is amisse, Plague and Infection mend. Graues onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine; Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.

Exit Timon.

1 His discontents are vnremoueably coupled to Nature

2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne, And straine what other meanes is left vnto vs In our deere perill

1 It requires swift foot.

Exeunt.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Thou hast painfully discouer’d: are his Files As full as thy report?
Mes. I haue spoke the least.
Besides his expedition promises present approach

2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon

Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend, Whom though in generall part we were oppos’d, Yet our old loue made a particular force, And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding From Alcibiades to Timons Caue,
With Letters of intreaty, which imported His Fellowship i’th’ cause against your City, In part for his sake mou’d.
Enter the other Senators.

1 Heere come our Brothers

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect, The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull scouring Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and prepare, Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Exeunt.

Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.

Sol. By all description this should be the place. Whose heere? Speake hoa. No answer? What is this? Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his span, Some Beast reade this; There do’s not liue a Man. Dead sure, and this his Graue, what’s on this Tomb, I cannot read: the Charracter Ile take with wax, Our Captaine hath in euery Figure skill; An ag’d Interpreter, though yong in dayes: Before proud Athens hee’s set downe by this, Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is. Enter.

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.

Alc. Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne, Our terrible approach.

Sounds a Parly.

The Senators appeare vpon the wals.

Till now you haue gone on, and fill’d the time With all Licentious measure, making your willes The scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe and such As slept within the shadow of your power Haue wander’d with our trauerst Armes, and breath’d Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush, When crouching Marrow in the bearer strong Cries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong, Shall sit and pant in your great Chaires of ease, And pursie Insolence shall breake his winde With feare and horrid flight

1.Sen. Noble, and young;
When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit, Ere thou had’st power, or we had cause of feare, We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme, To wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues
Aboue their quantitie

2 So did we wooe
Transformed Timon, to our Citties loue By humble Message, and by promist meanes: We were not all vnkinde, nor all deserue The common stroke of warre

1 These walles of ours,
Were not erected by their hands, from whom You haue receyu’d your greefe: Nor are they such, That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools shold fall For priuate faults in them

2 Nor are they liuing
Who were the motiues that you first went out, (Shame that they wanted, cunning in excesse) Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord, Into our City with thy Banners spred,
By decimation and a tythed death;
If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food Which Nature loathes, take thou the destin’d tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted dye,
Let dye the spotted

1 All haue not offended:
For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands Are not inherited, then deere Countryman, Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage, Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that haue offended, like a Shepheard, Approach the Fold, and cull th’ infected forth, But kill not altogether

2 What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile, Then hew too’t, with thy Sword

1 Set but thy foot
Against our rampyr’d gates, and they shall ope: So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, To say thou’t enter Friendly

2 Throw thy Gloue,
Or any Token of thine Honour else,
That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse, And not as our Confusion: All thy Powers Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee Haue seal’d thy full desire

Alc. Then there’s my Gloue,
Defend and open your vncharged Ports, Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owne
Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe, Fall and no more; and to attone your feares With my more Noble meaning, not a man
Shall passe his quarter, or offend the streame Of Regular Iustice in your Citties bounds, But shall be remedied to your publique Lawes At heauiest answer

Both. ‘Tis most Nobly spoken

Alc. Descend, and keepe your words. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead, Entomb’d vpon the very hemme o’th’ Sea,
And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture which With wax I brought away: whose soft Impression Interprets for my poore ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.

Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft, Seek not my name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left: Heere lye I Timon, who aliue, all liuing men did hate, Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe and stay not here thy gate. These well expresse in thee thy latter spirits: Though thou abhorrd’st in vs our humane griefes, Scornd’st our Braines flow, and those our droplets, which From niggard Nature fall; yet Rich Conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for aye On thy low Graue, on faults forgiuen. Dead Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie
Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie, And I will vse the Oliue, with my Sword: Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other, as each others Leach. Let our Drummes strike.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

TYMON of Athens.
Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords. Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher.
Sempronius another flattering Lord. Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine.
Poet.
Painter.
Ieweller.
Merchant.
Certaine Theeues.
Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants.
Seruilius, another.
Caphis.
Varro.
Philo.
Titus.
Lucius.
Hortensis Seuerall Seruants to Vsurers. Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends.
Cupid.
Sempronius. With diuers other Seruants, And Attendants.

THE LIFE OF TYMON OF ATHENS.