Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them, Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone. Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. Tim. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost trouble? I had rather be alone. Alcib. Why, fare thee well; Keep't, I cannot eat it. Here's some gold for thee. Tim. Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap, Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens ? Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. Tim. The gods confound them all i'thy conquest; and Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! Alcib. Tim. That, Why me, Timon? By killing villains, thou wast born to conquer My country. Put up thy gold; Go on, - - here's gold, go on; Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron; Let not the virgin's cheek 3 Make soft thy trenchant sword; spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their 1 mercy; Think it a bastard 4, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, 3 Cutting. 4 An allusion to the tale of Oedipus. And mince it sans remorse': jects'; Swear against ob 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, Not all thy counsel. Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens. If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Alcib. Call'st thou that harm? Tim. Men daily find it such. Get thee away. Alcib. Strike. We but offend him. [Drum beats. Exit ALCIBIades. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkind ness, Should yet be hungry! - Common mother, thou, 5 Without pity. 8 6 i. e. Against objects of charity and compassion. 7 The serpent called the blind-worm. Curved. Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, Never presented! — O, a root, - Dear thanks! Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas; Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, That from it all consideration slips! Enter APEMANTUS. 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! Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected; A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung From change of fortune. place? Why this spade? this This slave-like habit? and these looks of care ? Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel come, To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis most just, That thou turn rascal; had'st thou wealth again, Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd trees, That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, To cure thy o'er-night surfeit? call the crea Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements expos'd, Answer mere nature, -bid them flatter thee; Tim. A fool of thee: Depart. Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. Tim. I hate thee worse. Apem. Tim. Why? Thou flatter'st misery. Apem. I flatter not; but say, thou art a caitiff. Tim. Why dost thou seek me out? Apem. To vex thee. Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in't? Apem. Tim. Ay. What! a knave too? Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost, it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again, Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before': The one is filling still, never complete ; The other, at high wish: Best state, contentless, 9 i. c. Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes. Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable. Tim. Not by his breath' that is more miserable. Freely command, thou would'st have plung'd thyself The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men' At duty, more than I could frame employment; They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given ? Apem. Art thou proud yet? |