Apemantus
Where liest o’ nights, Timon?
Timon
Under that’s above me.
Where feed’st thou o’ days, Apemantus?
Apemantus
Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.
Timon
Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!
Apemantus
Where wouldst thou send it?
Timon
To sauce thy dishes.
Apemantus
The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There’s a medlar for thee, eat it.
Timon
On what I hate I feed not.
Apemantus
Dost hate a medlar?
Timon
Ay, though it look like thee.
Apemantus
An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?
Timon
Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?
Apemantus
Myself.
Timon
I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog.
Apemantus
What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?
Timon
Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
Apemantus
Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
Timon
Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?
Apemantus
Ay, Timon.
Timon
A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t’ attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse: wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!
Apemantus
If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
Timon
How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?
Apemantus
Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it and give way: when I know not what else to do, I’ll see thee again.
Timon
When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.
Apemantus
Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
Timon
Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
Apemantus
A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.
Timon
All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
Apemantus
There is no leprosy but what thou speak’st.
Timon
If I name thee.
I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
Apemantus
I would my tongue could rot them off!
Timon
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me that thou art alive;
I swound to see thee.
Apemantus
Would thou wouldst burst!
Timon
Away,
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose
A stone by thee.
Throws a stone at him
Apemantus
Beast!
Timon
Slave!
Apemantus
Toad!
Timon
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
But even the mere necessities upon ’t.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
Lie where the light foam the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others’ lives may laugh.
To the gold
O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
’Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen’s purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian’s lap! thou visible god,
That solder’st close impossibilities,
And makest them kiss! that speak’st with every tongue,
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!
Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!
Apemantus
Would ’twere so!
But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold:
Thou wilt be throng’d to shortly.
Timon
Throng’d to!
Apemantus
Ay.
Timon
Thy back, I prithee.
Apemantus
Live, and love thy misery.
Timon
Long live so, and so die.
Exit Apemantus
I am quit.
Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
Enter Banditti
First Bandit
Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy.
Second Bandit
It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
Third Bandit
Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not for’t, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall’s get it?
Second Bandit
True; for he bears it not about him, ’tis hid.
First Bandit
Is not this he?
Banditti
Where?
Second Bandit
’Tis his description.
Third Bandit
He; I know him.
Banditti
Save thee, Timon.
Timon
Now, thieves?
Banditti
Soldiers, not thieves.
Timon
Both too; and women’s sons.
Banditti
We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
Timon
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;
The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?
First Bandit
We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
As beasts and birds and fishes.
Timon
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
&
nbsp; That you are thieves profess’d, that you work not
In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here’s gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o’ the grape,
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so ’scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
Do villany, do, since you protest to do’t,
Like workmen. I’ll example you with thievery.
The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon’s an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth’s a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing’s a thief:
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheque’d theft. Love not yourselves: away,
Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats:
All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
Break open shops; nothing can you steal,
But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this
I give you; and gold confound you howsoe’er! Amen.
Third Bandit
Has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it.
First Bandit
’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
Second Bandit
I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.
First Bandit
Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
Exeunt Banditti
Enter Flavius
Flavius
O you gods!
Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow’d!
What an alteration of honour
Has desperate want made!
What viler thing upon the earth than friends
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise,
When man was wish’d to love his enemies!
Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me than those that do!
Has caught me in his eye: I will present
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!
Timon
Away! what art thou?
Flavius
Have you forgot me, sir?
Timon
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Then, if thou grant’st thou’rt a man, I have forgot thee.
Flavius
An honest poor servant of yours.
Timon
Then I know thee not:
I never had honest man about me, I; all
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
Flavius
The gods are witness,
Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
Timon
What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee,
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim’st
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity’s sleeping:
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!
Flavius
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts
To entertain me as your steward still.
Timon
Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man — mistake me not — but one;
No more, I pray,— and he’s a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind!
And thou redeem’st thyself: but all, save thee,
I fell with curses.
Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou mightst have sooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord’s neck. But tell me true —
For I must ever doubt, though ne’er so sure —
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
Flavius
No, my most worthy master; in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:
You should have fear’d false times when you did feast:
Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living; and, believe it,
My most honour’d lord,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope or present, I’ld exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.
Timon
Look thee, ’tis so! Thou singly honest man,
Here, take: the gods out of my misery
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;
But thus condition’d: thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
But let the famish’d flesh slide from the bone,
Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
What thou deny’st to men; let prisons swallow ’em,
Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so farewell and thrive.
Flavius
O, let me stay,
And comfort you, my master.
Timon
If thou hatest curses,
Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:
Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.
Exit Flavius. Timon retires to his cave
ACT V
SCENE I. THE WOODS. BEFORE TIMON’S CAVE.
Enter Poet and Painter; Timon watching them from his cave
Painter
As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
Poet
What’s to be thought of him? does the rumour hold for true, that he’s so full of gold?
Painter
Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity: ’tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
Poet
Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.
Painter
Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore ’tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travail for, if it be a just true report that goes of his having.
Poet
What have you now to present unto him?
Painter
Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece.
Poet
I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent t
hat’s coming toward him.
Painter
Good as the best. Promising is the very air o’ the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
Timon comes from his cave, behind
Timon
[Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.
Poet
I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
Timon
[Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.
Poet
Nay, let’s seek him:
Then do we sin against our own estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.
Painter
True;
When the day serves, before black-corner’d night,
Find what thou want’st by free and offer’d light. Come.
Timon
[Aside] I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold,
That he is worshipp’d in a baser temple
Than where swine feed!
’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plough’st the foam,
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye
Be crown’d with plagues that thee alone obey!
Fit I meet them.
Coming forward
Poet
Hail, worthy Timon!
Painter
Our late noble master!
Timon
Have I once lived to see two honest men?
Poet
Sir,
Having often of your open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retired, your friends fall’n off,
Whose thankless natures — O abhorred spirits!—
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:
What! to you,
Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk 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 seen and known.
Painter
He and myself
Have travail’d in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.
Timon
Ay, you are honest men.
Painter
We are hither come to offer you our service.
Timon
Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
Complete Plays, The Page 123