The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest.

  Burn house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be

  Of Timon man and all humanity!

  Exit

  Enter the Senators and other Lords

  FIRST LORD How now, my lords?

  SECOND LORD

  Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?

  THIRD LORD

  Push! Did you see my cap?

  FOURTH LORD I have lost my gown.

  FIRST LORD He’s but a mad lord, and naught but humours sways him. He gave me a jewel th’other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see my jewel?

  ⌈THIRD⌉ LORD Did you see my cap?

  ⌈SECOND⌉ LORD

  Here ’tis.

  FOURTH LORD Here lies my gown.

  FIRST LORD Let’s make no stay.

  SECOND LORD

  Lord Timon’s mad.

  THIRD LORD I feel’t upon my bones.

  FOURTH LORD

  One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.

  Exeunt

  4.1 Enter Timon

  TIMON

  Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall

  That girdles 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‘th’ 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, steal!

  Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,

  And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed!

  Thy mistress is o’th’ brothel. Son of sixteen,

  Pluck the lined 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

  On 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 th’Athenian bosoms, and their crop

  Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,

  That their society, as their friendship, may

  Be merely poison!

  ⌈He tears off his clothes⌉

  Nothing I’ll bear from thee

  But nakedness, thou detestable town;

  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—

  Th’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

  4.2 Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants

  FIRST SERVANT

  Hear you, master steward, where’s our master?

  Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?

  FLAVIUS

  Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?

  Let me be recorded: by the righteous gods,

  I am as poor as you.

  FIRST SERVANT Such a house broke,

  So noble a master fall’n? All gone, and not

  One friend to take his fortune by the arm

  And go along with him?

  SECOND SERVANT 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 picked; and his poor self,

  A dedicated beggar to the air,

  With his disease of all-shunned poverty,

  Walks like contempt alone.

  Enter other Servants

  More of our fellows.

  FLAVIUS

  All broken implements of a ruined house.

  THIRD SERVANT

  Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery.

  That see I by our faces. We are fellows still,

  Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our barque,

  And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck

  Hearing the surges’ threat. We must all part

  Into this sea of air.

  FLAVIUS

  Good fellows all,

  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 ‘twere a knell unto our master’s fortunes,

  ’We have seen better days.’

  He gives them money

  Let each take some.

  Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more.

  Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

  They embrace, and the Servants part several ways

  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 would be so mocked with glory, or to live

  But in a dream of friendship,

  To have his pomp and all what state compounds

  But only painted like his varnished 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, blessed to be most accursed,

  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;

  Nor has he with him to supply his life,

  Or that which can command it.

  I’ll follow and enquire him out.

  I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will.

  Whilst I have gold I’ll be his steward still.

  Exit

  4.3 Enter Timon ⌈from his cave⌉ in the woods, ⌈half naked, and with a spade⌉

  TIMON

  O blessèd breeding sun, draw from the earth

  Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb

  Infect the air. Twinned 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.

  It is the pasture lards the brother’s sides,

  The want that makes him lean.

  Raise me this beggar and demit that lord,

  The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

  The beggar native honour. 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 grece of fortune

  Is smoothed by that below. The learnèd pate

  Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy;

  There’s nothing level in our cursed natures />
  But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred

  All feasts, societies, and throngs of men.

  His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.

  Destruction fang mankind. Earth, yield me roots.

  He digs

  Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate

  With thy most operant poison.

  He finds gold

  What is here?

  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.

  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’accursed,

  Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves,

  And give them title, knee, and approbation

  With senators on the bench. This is it

  That makes the wappered widow wed again.

  She whom the spittle house and ulcerous sores

  Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices

  To th’ April day again. Come, damned 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! Thou’rt quick;

  But yet I’ll bury thee.

  He buries gold

  Thou’lt go, strong thief,

  When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.

  He keeps some gold

  Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

  Enter Alcibiades, with soldiers playing 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

  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,

  That I might love thee something.

  ALCIBIADES I know thee well,

  But in thy fortunes am unlearned 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.

  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

  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.

  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 promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost not 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 blessèd time.

  TIMON

  As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

  TIMANDRA

  Is this th’Athenian minion, whom the world

  Voiced so regardfully?

  SIMON 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.

  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.

  TIMANDRA Hang thee, monster!

  ALCIBIADES

  Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits

  Are drowned and lost in his calamities.

  I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,

  The want whereof doth daily make revolt

  In my penurious band. I have heard and grieved

  How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,

  Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states

  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.

  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,

  And thee after, when thou hast conquered.

  ALCIBIADES

  Why me, Timon?

  TIMON That by killing of villains

  Thou wast born to conquer my country.

  Put up thy gold.

  He gives Alcibiades gold

  Go on; here’s gold; go on.

  Be as a planetary plague when Jove

  Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison

  In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one.

  Pity not honoured age for his white beard;

  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 pronounced thy throat shall cut,

  And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects.

  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.

  Make large confusion, and, thy fury spent,

  Confounded be thyself. Speak not. Be gone.

  ALCIBIADES

  Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou giv’st me,

  Not all thy counsel.

  TIMON

  Dost thou or dost thou not, heaven’s curse upon thee!

  PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

  Give us some gold, good Timon. Hast thou more?

  TIMON

  Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,

  And to make wholesomeness a bawd. Hold up, you

  sluts,

  Your aprons mountant.

  ⌈He throws gold into their aprons⌉

  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;

  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 pain-sick months

  Be quite contrary, and thatch your poor thin roofs

  With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged,

  No matter. Wear them, betray with them; whore still;

  Paint till a horse may mire upon your face.

  A pox of wrinkles!

  PHRYNIA and 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,

  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 curled-pate

  ruffians bald,

  And let the unscarred 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!

  PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

  More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

  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.

  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!

  Exeunt ⌈to drum and fife⌉ all but Timon