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3 Lord.

I feel't upon my bones. 4 Lord. One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.



SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens.

Enter Timon. Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall, That girdlest 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'the 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'the brothel ! son of sixteen, Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire, With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestick awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, Decline to your confounding contrariest, And yet confusion live!-Plagues, incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap

. Common sewers.

+ i.e. Contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or destroy each other.

On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our seuators, 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, blaius,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms ; and their crop
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath;
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison ! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou détestable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying bannst!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all),
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, bigh, and low!



Athens. A room in Timon's house.

Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants. 1 Serv. Hear you, master steward, where's our

master ? Are we undone ? cast off? nothing remaining ? Flao. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to

you? Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you. 1 Seru.

Such a house broke! So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not

# For libertinism.

+ Accumulated curses.

One friend, to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him !
2 Sero.

As we do turn our backs
From our companion, thrown into his grave;
So bis familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick'd : and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.-More of our fellows.

Enter other Servants.
Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house.

3 Sero. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our bark;
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the surges threat: we must all part
Into this sea of air..

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. Let each take some;

[Giving them money. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more: Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

[Exeunt Servants. 0, the fierce* wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who'd be so mock'd 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 varnish'd friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart;

* Hasty, precipitate.

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,-bless'd, to be most accurs'd,
Rich, only to be wretched;-thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
He's flung in rage from this ungrateful seat
Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to
Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I'll follow, and inquire him out:
I'll serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold, l'll be his steward still.



The woods.

Enter Timon. Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orbt Infect the air! Twion'd brothers of one womb, Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarce is dividant, touch them with several for

tunes; The greater scorns the lesser: Not vature, To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune, But byt contempt of nature. Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord ; The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, The beggar native honour. It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,

* Propensity, disposition.
ti. e. The moon's, this sublunary world.

But by is here used for without.

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, So are they all; for every grize of fortune Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique; There's nothing level in our cursed natures, But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorr'd 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? . Gold ? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I am no idle votaristt. 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 the accurs'd; Make the boar 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 I widow wed again; She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To the April day againg. Come, damned earth,

* Seize, gripe.

+ No insincere or inconstant supplicant. Gold will not serve me instead of roots.

Sorrowful. ó i. e. Gold restores her to all the sweetness and freshness of youth..

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