The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 488
I’ll follow and enquire him out.
I’ll ever serve his mind, with my best will;
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Whilst I have gold I’ll be his steward still. Exit.
4.3 Enter TIMON.
TIMON O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb
Infect the air! Twinn’d brothers of one womb,
Whose procreation, residence and birth
Scarce is dividant – touch them with several
fortunes,
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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 deny’t that lord,
The senators shall bear contempt hereditary,
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The beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the brother’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,
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So are they all, for every grise of fortune
Is smooth’d by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool; all’s obliquy;
There’s nothing level in our cursed natures
But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorr’d
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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?
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Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?
No, gods, I am no idle votarist.
Roots, you clear heavens! Thus much of this will
make
Black, white; foul, fair; wrong, right;
Base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.
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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,
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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
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Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th’April day again. Come, damn’d earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature. [March afar off.]
Ha? A drum? Th’art quick,
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But yet I’ll bury thee. Thou’lt go, strong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [keeping some gold]
Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; and PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.
ALCIBIADES What art thou there? Speak.
TIMON
A beast as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
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For showing me again the eyes of man!
ALCIBIADES
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee
That art thyself a man?
TIMON I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
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That I might love thee something.
ALCIBIADES I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn’d and strange.
TIMON
I know thee too, and more than that I know thee
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;
With man’s blood paint the ground, gules, gules.
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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.
PHRYNIA Thy lips rot off!
TIMON I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns
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To thine own lips again.
ALCIBIADES
How came the noble Timon to this change?
TIMON 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.
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ALCIBIADES
Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?
TIMON None, but to maintain my opinion.
ALCIBIADES What is it, Timon?
TIMON Promise me friendship, but perform none. If
thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou
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art a man! If thou dost perform, confound thee, for
thou art a man!
ALCIBIADES I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
TIMON Thou saw’st them when I had prosperity.
ALCIBIADES I see them now; then was a blessed time.
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TIMON As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA Is this th’Athenian minion whom the world
Voic’d so regardfully?
TIMON Art thou Timandra?
TIMANDRA Yes.
TIMON
Be a whore still. They love thee not that use thee.
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
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Make use of thy salt hours; season the slaves
For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek’d youth
To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA Hang thee, monster!
ALCIBIADES Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits
Are drown’d and lost in his calamities.
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I have 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,
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But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them –
TIMON I prithee beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
ALCIBIADES I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
TIMON
How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
ALCIBIADES Why, fare thee well:
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Here is some gold for thee.
TIMON Keep it, I cannot eat it.
ALCIBIADES When I have laid proud Athens on a heap –
TIMON Warr’st thou ’gainst Athens?
ALCIBIADES Ay, Timon, and have cause.
TIMON The gods confound them all in thy conquest,
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And thee after, when thou hast conquer’d!
ALCIBIADES Why me, Timon?
TIMON 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
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Will o’er some high-vic’d city hang his poison
In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honour’d age for his white beard:
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron:
It is her habit only that is honest,
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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
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Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their
mercy:
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc’d the throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects.
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes
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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.
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
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ALCIBIADES
Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou givest me,
Not all thy counsel.
TIMON
Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven’s curse upon thee!
PHRYNIA, TIMANDRA
Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
TIMON
Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
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And to make whores a bawd. 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
Th’immortal gods that hear you. Spare your oaths:
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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,
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Be quite contrary. And thatch
Your poor thin roofs with burthens 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:
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A pox of wrinkles!
PHRYNIA, TIMANDRA Well, more gold. What then?
Believe’t that we’ll do anything for gold.
TIMON Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
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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,
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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,
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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!
PHRYNIA, TIMANDRA
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
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TIMON
More whore, more mischief first; I have given you
earnest.
ALCIBIADES
Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell,
TIMON:
If I thrive well, I’ll visit thee again.
TIMON If I hope well, I’ll never see thee more.
ALCIBIADES I never did thee harm.
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TIMON Yes, thou spok’st well of me.
ALCIBIADES Call’st thou that harm?
TIMON Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.
ALCIBIADES We but offend him. Strike!
Drum beats. Exeunt Alcibiades, Phrynia and Timandra.
TIMON That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou
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[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,
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With all th’abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion’s quick’ning fire doth shine:
Yield him, who all the human sons do hate,