The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 490
tongue,
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts,
Think thy slave Man rebels, and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!
APEMANTUS Would ’twere so!
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But not till I am dead. I’ll say th’ hast gold.
Thou wilt be throng’d to shortly.
TIMON Throng’d to?
APEMANTUS Ay.
TIMON Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS Live, and love thy misery.
TIMON Long live so, and so die! I am quit.
APEMANTUS
Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
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Exit.
Enter the Banditti.
1 BANDIT Where should he have this gold? It is some
poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The
mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends,
drove him into this melancholy.
2 BANDIT It is nois’d he hath a mass of treasure.
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3 BANDIT Let us make the assay upon him. If he care
not for’t, he will supply us easily; if he covetously
reserve it, how shall’s get it?
2 BANDIT True; for he bears it not about him: ’tis hid.
1 BANDIT Is not this he?
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ALL Where?
2 BANDIT ’Tis his description.
3 BANDIT He; I know him.
ALL Save thee, Timon.
TIMON Now, thieves?
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ALL Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON Both too; and women’s sons.
ALL We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
TIMON Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;
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The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife nature on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?
1 BANDIT We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
As beasts and birds and fishes.
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TIMON
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves profess’d, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
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Here’s gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o’th’ grape,
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so ’scape hanging. Trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
Moe than you rob. Take wealth and lives together.
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Do villainy, do, since you protest to do’t,
Like workmen. I’ll example you with thievery:
The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon’s an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
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The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears; the earth’s a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stol’n
From gen’ral excrement; each thing’s a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
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Has uncheck’d theft. Love not yourselves; away,
Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats.
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go;
Break open shops: nothing can you steal
But thieves do lose it. Steal less for this I give you,
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And gold confound you howsoe’er! Amen.
Withdraws.
3 BANDIT H’as almost charm’d me from my
profession, by persuading me to it.
1 BANDIT ’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus
advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
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2 BANDIT I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my
trade.
1 BANDIT Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no
time so miserable but a man may be true.
Exeunt Bandits.
Enter Steward.
STEWARD O you gods!
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Is yond despis’d and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow’d!
What an alteration of honour has desp’rate want
made!
What vilder thing upon the earth than friends
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Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise,
When man was wish’d to love his enemies!
Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me than those that do!
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H’as caught me in his eye: I will present
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!
TIMON comes forward.
TIMON Away! What art thou?
STEWARD Have you forgot me, sir?
TIMON Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men.
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Then, if thou grant’st th’art a man,
I have forgot thee.
STEWARD An honest poor servant of yours.
TIMON Then I know thee not.
I never had honest man about me, I; all
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I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
STEWARD The gods are witness,
Ne’er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
TIMON
What, dost thou weep? Come nearer; then I love
thee,
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Because thou art a woman, and disclaim’st
Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity’s sleeping.
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with
weeping!
STEWARD I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
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T’accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts
To entertain me as your steward still.
TIMON Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
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Let me behold thy face. Surely this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man. Mistake me not, but one.
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No more, I pray – and he’s a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem’st thyself. But all, save thee,
I fell with curses.
Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;
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For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou mightst have sooner got another service;
For many so arrive at second masters
Upon their first lord’s neck. But tell me true –
For I must ever doubt, though ne’er so sure –
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Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
A usuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
STEWARD No, my most worthy master, in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac’d too late!
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You should have fear’d false times when you did
&nbs
p; feast;
Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living; and believe it,
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My most honour’d lord,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope, or present, I’d exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.
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TIMON Look thee, ’tis so. Thou singly honest man,
Here, take: the gods out of my misery
Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,
But thus condition’d: thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
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But let the famish’d flesh slide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow ’em,
Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted
woods;
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
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And so farewell, and thrive.
STEWARD O let me stay and comfort you, my master.
TIMON If thou hat’st curses
Stay not; fly, whilst thou art bless’d and free:
Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.
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Exit Steward; Timon withdraws.
5.1 Enter Poet and Painter.
PAINTER As I took note of the place, it cannot be far
where he abides.
POET What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour
hold for true that he’s so full of gold?
PAINTER Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and
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Timandra had gold of him. He likewise enrich’d poor
straggling soldiers with great quantity. ’Tis said he
gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
POET Then this breaking of his has been but a try for
his friends.
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PAINTER Nothing else. You shall see him a palm in
Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore
’tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this
suppos’d distress of his: it will show honestly in us,
and is very likely to load our purposes with what they
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travail for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his
having.
POET What have you now to present unto him?
PAINTER Nothing at this time but my visitation; only I
will promise him an excellent piece.
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POET I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent that’s
coming toward him.
PAINTER Good as the best. Promising is the very air o’
th’ time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance
is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer
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and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite
out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable;
performance is a kind of will or testament which
argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
Enter TIMON from his cave.
TIMON [aside] Excellent workman, thou canst not paint
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a man so bad as is thyself.
POET I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for
him. It must be a personating of himself; a satire
against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of
the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
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TIMON [aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in
thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in
other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.
POET Nay, let’s seek him:
Then do we sin against our own estate,
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When we may profit meet, and come too late.
PAINTER True.
When the day serves, before black-corner’d night
Find what thou want’st, by free and offer’d light.
Come.
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TIMON [aside]
I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold,
That he is worshipp’d in a baser temple
Than where swine feed?
’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plough’st the
foam,
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
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To thee be worship; and thy saints for aye
Be crown’d with plagues, that thee alone obey!
Fit I meet them. [coming forward]