Part 10 (1/2)

But then renew I could not, like the moon; There were no suns to borrow of.

ALCIBIADES. n.o.ble Timon, What friends.h.i.+p may I do thee?

TIMON. None, but to Maintain my opinion.

ALCIBIADES. What is it, Timon?

TIMON. Promise me friends.h.i.+p, but perform none. If thou wilt not promise, the G.o.ds plague thee, for thou art man! If thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art a man!

ALCIBIADES. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

TIMON. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperity.

ALCIBIADES. I see them now; then was a blessed time.

TIMON. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

TIMANDRA. Is this th' Athenian minion whom the world Voic'd so regardfully?

TIMON. Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA. Yes.

TIMON. Be a wh.o.r.e still; they love thee not that use thee.

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their l.u.s.t.

Make use of thy salt hours. Season the slaves For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd youth To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA. Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.

I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, The want whereof doth daily make revolt In my penurious band. I have heard, and griev'd, How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them- TIMON. I prithee beat thy drum and get thee gone.

ALCIBIADES. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

TIMON. How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?

I had rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES. Why, fare thee well; Here is some gold for thee.

TIMON. Keep it: I cannot eat it.

ALCIBIADES. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap- TIMON. War'st thou 'gainst Athens?

ALCIBIADES. Ay, Timon, and have cause.

TIMON. The G.o.ds confound them all in thy conquest; And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

ALCIBIADES. Why me, Timon?

TIMON. That by killing of villains Thou wast born to conquer my country.

Put up thy gold. Go on. Here's gold. Go on.

Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison In the sick air; let not thy sword skip one.

Pity not honour'd age for his white beard: He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron: It is her habit only that is honest, Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps That through the window bars bore at men's eyes Are not within the leaf of pity writ, But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a b.a.s.t.a.r.d whom the oracle Hath doubtfully p.r.o.nounc'd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against abjects; 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.

ALCIBIADES. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou givest me, Not all thy counsel.

TIMON. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee!

PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Give us some gold, good Timon.

Hast thou more?

TIMON. Enough to make a wh.o.r.e forswear her trade, And to make wh.o.r.es a bawd. Hold up, you s.l.u.ts, Your ap.r.o.ns mountant; you are not oathable, Although I know you'll swear, terribly swear, Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues, Th' immortal G.o.ds that hear you. Spare your oaths; I'll trust to your conditions. Be wh.o.r.es still; And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you- Be strong in wh.o.r.e, allure him, burn him up; Let your close fire predominate his smoke, 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. Wh.o.r.e still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face.

A pox of wrinkles!

PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Well, more gold. What then?

Believe't that we'll do anything for gold.

TIMON. Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp s.h.i.+ns, And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, That he may never more false t.i.tle plead, Nor sound his quillets shrilly. h.o.a.r the flamen, That scolds against the quality of flesh And not believes himself. Down with the nose, Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away Of him that, his particular to foresee, Smells from the general weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians bald, And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you. Plague all, That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection. There's more gold.

Do you d.a.m.n others, and let this d.a.m.n you, And ditches grave you all!

PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

TIMON. More wh.o.r.e, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

ALCIBIADES. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon; If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

TIMON. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

ALCIBIADES. I never did thee harm.

TIMON. Yes, thou spok'st well of me.

ALCIBIADES. Call'st thou that harm?

TIMON. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take Thy beagles with thee.