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Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit give :

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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 the Athenian minion whom the world

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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 objects;


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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; 140
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six

Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin


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!

Phr., 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 160
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!

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

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

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

If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Alcib. I never did thee harm.


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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 marrows, vines, and plough-torn

Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!

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!


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At duty, more than I could frame employment,
That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows; I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in 't. Why should'st thou
hate men?

They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, 270
Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
To some she beggar and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

Art thou proud yet?

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.

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I, that I was

I, that I am one now:

Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.
That the whole life of Athens were in this! 280
Thus would I eat it.
Eating a root.
Here; I will mend thy feast.
Tim. First mend my company, take away

Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

Tim. "Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;

If not, I would it were.

Apem. What would'st thou have to Athens ? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
Apem. Here is no use for gold.
The best and truest;
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.


Apem. Where liest o' nights, Timon? Tim. Under that's above me. Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim. Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!

Apem. Where would'st thou send it?
Tim. To sauce thy dishes.

Apem. 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. Tim. On what I hate I feed not. Apem. Dost hate a medlar?

Tim. Ay, though it look like thee.

Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou should'st have loved thyself better now, What man didst thon ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?


Tim. Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?

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Apem. Ay, Timon.

Tim. 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 thee; 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 should'st 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 would'st be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou would'st 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 could'st thou be that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!

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In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the

Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob: take wealth and lives


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


Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves; away! Rob one another. throats;

There's more gold: cut

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
give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er!

Third Thief. He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it.

First Thief. "Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.


Second Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

First Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens; there is no time so miserable but a man may be Exeunt Thieves.


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Tim. Away! what art thou?
Have you forgot me, sir?
Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all

Then, if thou grant'st thou 'rt a man, I have forgot thee.

Flav. An honest poor servant of yours.
Then I know thee not:
I never had honest man about me; ay, all
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
Flav. The gods are witness,

Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. 490
Tim. 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!

Flav. 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.

Tim. 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 might st 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?

Flav. No, my most worthy master; in whose breast

Doubt and suspect, alas! are plac'd too late.


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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

Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like blasted woods,

And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so farewell and thrive.
O let me stay
And comfort you, my master.


If thou hatest Curses, stay not; fly, whilst thou art bless'd and free:

Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. Exeunt severally.


SCENE I.-The Woods. Before TIMON'S Cave. Enter Poet and Painter.

Pain. 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!

Pain. 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.

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Pain. 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 travel for. if it be a just and true report that goes of his having. Poet. What have you now to present unto him? Pain. 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 that's coming toward him.

Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the time; it opens the eyes of ex pectation; 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.

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