TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT I.

PAINTING.

The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out *.

THE PLEASURE OF DOING GOOD.

O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you, We are born to do benefits: and what better or pro perer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes!

ACT II.

A FAITHFUL STEWARD.

So the gods bless me,

When all our offices + have been oppress'd
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept

Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess

to be.

+ The apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c.

With drunken spilth of wine; when every room Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy; I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock*,

They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fallt, want treasure, cannot Do what they would; are sorry-you are honourable,

But yet they could have wish'd-they know notbut

Something hath been amiss a noble nature

May catch a wrench-would all were well-'tis pity

And so, intending ‡ other serious matters,

After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions §, With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence.

ACT III.

THE MISERABLE SHIFTS OF INGRATITUDE.

Ser. My honoured lord,[To LUCIUS. Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well: Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.

Sor. May it please your honour, my lord hath

sent

Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord; he's ever sending: How shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?

Ser. He has only sent his present occasion now,

A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste. +2. e. At an ebb.

Intending, had anciently the same meaning as attending.
Broken hints, abrupt remarks. of sc01 8960)
A half cap is a cap slightly moved, 1
, not put off,

E

V my lord; requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.

Luc. I know, his lordship is but merry with me; He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.

Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous*,

I should not urge it half so faithfully.

Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir.

Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might have shown myself honourable? how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour-Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do't; the more beast, I say: I was sending to use lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind: And tell him this from me, I count it, one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him?

Ser. Yes, sir, I shall.

Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius.

[Exit SERVILIUS. True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed; And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed.

AGAINST DUELLING.

[Exit.

Your words have took such pains, as if they la
bour'd

To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,
Is valour misbegot, and came into the world
When sects and factions were but newly born:
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

"If he did not want it for a good use."

The worst that man can breathe; and make hit

wrongs

His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly;
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.

ACT IV.

TIMON'S EXECRATION OF THE ATHENIANS.
SCENE. Without the walls of Athens.
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 parent's 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,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries +,
And yet confusion live!-Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap

On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners! lust
Just and liberty+

*Common sewers.

e. Contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or destroy + For libertinism.

each other.

ki Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
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 detestable town!

A FRIEND FORSAKEN.

As we do turn our backs

From our companion, thrown into his grave:
So his 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.

ON GOLD.

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 votarist *. 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 hoar 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 + widow wed again;

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