With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven,
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth fhine;
Yield him, who all thy human fons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bofom, one poor root!
Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
Teem with new monfters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above

Never prefented!-0, a root,-Dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorith draughts,
And morfels unctuous, greafes his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips!

Enter APEMANTUS.

More man? Plague! plague!

Ape. I was directed hither: Men report, Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them. Tim. 'Tis then, because thou doft not keep a dog Whom I would imitate: Confumption catch thee! Ape. This is in thee a nature but affected; A poor unmanly melancholy, fprung From change of fortune. Why this fpade? this place? This flave-like habit? and thefe looks of care? Thy flatterers yet wear filk, drink wine, lie foft; Hug their difcas'd perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, By putting on the cunning of a carper. Be thou a flatterer now, and feek to thrive By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee, And let his very breath, whom thou❜lt obferve, Blow off thy cap; praise his moft vicious ftrain, And call it excellent: Thou waft told thus ;

Thou

Thou gav'ft thine ears, like tapfters, that bid wel

come,

To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis moft juft,
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rafcals fhould have't. Do not affume my likeness.
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
Ape. Thou haft caft away thy felf, being like thy-
felf;

A madman fo long, now a fool; What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy fhift on warm? Will these moist trees,
That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
Andskip when thou point'ft out? will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste
To cure thy o'er-night's furfeit? Call the creatures,
Whose naked natures live in all the spight
Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,

Answer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee';
O! thou fhalt find-

Tim. A fool of thee: Depart.

Ape. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Tim. I hate thee worfe.

Ape. Why?

Tim. Thou flatter'ft mifery.

Ape. I flatter not; but fay, thou art a caitiff. Tim. Why doft thou feek me out?

Ape. To vex thee.

Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Doft please thyself in't?

Ape. Ay.

Tim. What! a knave too?

Ape. If thou didst put this four cold habit on To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou

Doft

Doft it enforcedly; thou'dft courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing mifery
Out-lives incertain pomp, is crown'd before:
The one is filling ftill, never complete ;
The other, at high wifh: Beft ftate, contentlefs,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worfe than the worst, content.

Thou fhould't desire to die, being miferable.

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miferable.
Thou art a flave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favour never clafp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadft thou, like us, from our firft fwath, proceeded
The fweet degrees that this brief world afford
To fuch as may the paffive drugs of it

Freely command, thou would'ft have plung'dthyfelf
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The fugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
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 ftorm that blows); I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is fome burden:
Thy nature did commence in fufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should't thou hate

men?

They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given?
If thou wilt curfe,-thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy fubject; who in fpight, put stuff
To fome the beggar, and compounded thee

Poor

Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!--
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadft been a knave, and flatterer.
Ape. Art thou proud yet?

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Ape. I, that I was no prodigal,
Tim. I, that I am one now:

Were all the wealth I have, fhut up in thee,
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.-
That the whole life of Athens were in this!

Thus would I eat it.

[Eating a Root, Ape. Here; I will mend thy feast.

[Offering him fomething Tim. Firft mend my company, take away thyself. Ape. So I fhall mend my own, by the lack of thine. Tim. 'Tis not well mended fo, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were.

Ape. What wouldst thou have to Athens?

Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold; look, fo I have. Ape. Here is no use for gold.

Tim. The beft, and truest:

For here it fleeps, and does no hired harm.
Ape. Where ly'ft o'nights, Timon?

Tim. Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o'days, Apemantus?

Ape. Where my ftomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim. 'Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind!

Ape. Where wouldft thou fend it?

Tim. To fauce thy dishes.

Ape. The middle of humanity thou never kneweft, but the extremity of both ends: When thou

G

walt

waft in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiofity; in thy rags thou knoweft none, but art defpis'd for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it.

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.
Ape. Doft hate a medlar?

Tim. Ay, though it look like thee.

Ape. An thou had'st hated medlars fooner, thou fhould't have loved thyfelf better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was be lov'd after his means?

Tim. Who, without thofe means thou talk'st so, didft thou ever know belov'd?

Ape. Myself.

Tim. I understand thee; thou had'ft fome means to keep a dog.

Ape. What things in the world canft thou neareft compare to thy flatterers?

Tim. Women, neareft; but men, men are the things themselves. What would't thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Ape. Give it the beasts to be rid of the men. Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the con fusion of men, and remain a beaft with the beats? Ape. Ay, Timon.

Tim. A beaftly ambition, which the gods grant, thee to 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 fufpect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accus'd by the ass: if thou wert the afs, thy dulnefs would torment thee; and ftill thou liv'dft but as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou fhouldt