Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse: Swear against objects; 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, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers: Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou giv'st me, Not all thy counsel. Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! Phr. & Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon: Hast thou more? Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, Your aprons mountant: You are not oathable,— Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear, Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues, The immortal gods that hear you,-spare your oaths, 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; your close fire predominate his smoke, Let And be no turncoats: Yet may your pains, six months, Be quite contrary: And thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead;-some that were hang'd, No matter:-wear them, betray with them: whore still; bastard,] An allusion to the tale of Oedipus. Swear against objects;] Against objects is, against objects of charity and compassion. I'll trust to your conditions:] I will trust to your inclinations, or rather vocations. Paint till a horse may mire upon your face: A pox of wrinkles! Phr. & Timan. Well, more gold;-What then?— Believ't, that we'll do any thing for gold. Tim. Consumptions sow 8 In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate ruffians bald; And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war The source of all erection.-There's more gold:- 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. 7 Nor sound his quillets shrilly:] Quillets are subtilties. 8 hoar the flamen,] This may mean,-Give the flamen the hoary leprosy. 9 that his particular to foresee,] The metaphor is apparently incongruous, but the sense is good. To foresee his particular, is to provide for his private advantage, for which he leaves the right scent of publick good. And ditches grave you all!] To grave is to entomb. The word is now obsolete, though sometimes used by Shakspeare and his contemporary authors. 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, And take thy beagles with thee. Alcib. Strike. We but offend him. [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou, [Digging. Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,2 Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,3 With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root! Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears; Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled mansion all above Never presented!-0, a root,-Dear thanks! Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;5 3 2 Whose-infinite breast-] means whose boundless surface. eyeless renom'd worm,] The serpent, which we, from the smallness of his eyes, call the blind-worm, and the Latins, cæcilia. 4 below crisp heaven-] i. e. curled, bent, hollow. Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;] The sense is this: O nature! cease to produce men, ensear thy womb; but if thou wilt continue to produce them, at least cease to pamper them; dry up thy marrows, on which they fatten with unctuous morsels, thy vines, which give them liquorish draughts, and thy plow-torn leas. Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, 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. Why this spade? this place? 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, A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st critick. the cunning of a carper.] i. e. the insidious art of a 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's surfeit? call the creatures,— 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; O! thou shalt find Tim. A fool of thee: Depart. Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. Арет. 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? Арет. 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:* 7 What! a knave too?] Timon had just called Apemantus fool, in consequence of what he had known of him by former acquaintance; but when Apemantus tells him that he comes to vex him, Timon determines that to ver is either the office of a villain or a fool; that to vex by design is villainy, to vex without design is folly. He then properly asks Apemantus whether he takes delight in vexing, and when he answers, yes, Timon replies,-What! a knave too? I before only knew thee to be a fool, but now I find thee likewise a knave. JOHNSON. |