Keep it, I can't eat it.
ALCIBIADES
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--
When I have beaten proud Athens to the ground–
TIMON
Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?
Are you going to war against Athens?
ALCIBIADES
Ay, Timon, and have cause.
Yes, Timon, and I have good reason.
TIMON
The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
May the gods defeat them all in your conquest;
and you after that, when you have won!
ALCIBIADES
Why me, Timon?
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-viced 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 bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced 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 soldiers:
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
Because by killing villains
you shall conquer my country.
Put away your gold. Go on. Here's some gold. Go on.
Be like a plague from the heavens, when Jove
blows his poison through the sick air of some
immoral city. Don't let your sword miss a single person.
Don't pity the old man for his white beard:
he's a moneylender. Cut down the fake lady for me:
it's only her clothes which are respectable,
she is a tart. Don't let the virgin's looks
hold back your sword: those white breasts,
which peep through their dresses to catch men's eyes,
not included on the list of things to be spared,
they are written down as horrible traitors. Don't spare the baby
whose sweet smile gains mercy from false:
think of it as a bastard, whom the Oracle
has terrifyingly predicted will cut your throat,
and chop it up without pity. Don't let any protests put you off.
Cover up your ears and your eyes with armour
through whose strength the yells of mothers, maids or babies,
nor the sight of priests bleeding in their holy robes
cannot pierce. Here's gold to pay your soldiers.
Cause great chaos; and, when your anger is spent,
be damned to you! Don't speak, go.
ALCIBIADES
Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
givest me,
Not all thy counsel.
Do you still have gold? I'll take the gold you give me,
not your advice.
TIMON
Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse
upon thee!
May heaven curse you, whether you do or not!
PHRYNIA TIMANDRA
Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
Give us some gold, good Timon: do you have more?
TIMON
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;
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 burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,
No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,
A pox of wrinkles!
Enough to make a whore give up her business,
to turn whores into brothel keepers. You sluts,
hold out your aprons. You can't be made to swear oaths,
although I know you'll swear, swear terribly
so that the awful gods that listen to you will be sent into fits
and trembling. Don't bother with oaths:
I'll trust your nature. Remain as whores;
and when someone tries to convert you with pious words,
be a strong whore, draw him in, burn him up;
let your burning passions triumph over his piety,
and don't be traitors; but I hope you also suffer
for the next six months. And cover
your poor thin hair with wigs made from the hair of the dead–
some of them were hanged, it doesn't matter;
wear them and use them for betrayal: remain a whore;
put on so much paint that a horse could sink in it:
be damned to wrinkles!
PHRYNIA TIMANDRA
Well, more gold: what then?
Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.
Good, more gold: what then?
You can be sure that we will do anything for gold.
TIMON
Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar 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 damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!
Sow consumption
into the hollow bones of man; rot their legs
to spoil their riding. Ruin the lawyer's throat,
so he can never act for the fraudster again,
or make his quibbling arguments: give the clap
to the priest who speaks against the weaknesses of the flesh
and doesn't follow his own teaching: rot away his nose,
make it flat; remove the bridge completely of
the one who, in order to look after himself,
steals from the public. Make curly haired ruffians bald,
and let the unscarred boasting soldier
get a wound from you: give the clap to them all,
so that your activity can subdue
all lust. There's more
gold.
You damn others, and let this damn you,
and may you all die in the ditch!
PHRYNIA TIMANDRA
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
Give us more advice and more money, generous Timon.
TIMON
More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.
I want to see you causing more whorish mischief first; I have paid your fee.
ALCIBIADES
Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.
Strike up the drum for the march on Athens! Farewell, Timon:
if I succeed, I'll visit you again.
TIMON
If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.
If I get my wish, I'll never see you again.
ALCIBIADES
I never did thee harm.
I never did you any harm.
TIMON
Yes, thou spokest well of me.
You did, you spoke well of me.
ALCIBIADES
Call'st thou that harm?
Do you call that doing harm?
TIMON
Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.
Men find it is every day. Off you go, and take
your dogs with you.
ALCIBIADES
We but offend him. Strike!
We're just upsetting him. Strike up the march!
Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA
TIMON
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,
Digging
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
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,
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!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!
It's amazing that people who have had an overdose of man's unkindness
still want more! Universal mother, you
[digging]
whose infinite womb and breast
breeds and feeds everything; the same essence
which makes your proud child, arrogant man,
also makes the black toad and the blue adder,
the golden newt and blind poisonous worm,
and all the other revolting births below the
pure sky where the sun shines;
give the person whom all your human sons hate
just one poor root from your bounty!
Seal up your fertile and prolific womb,
don't give birth to any more ungrateful men!
Become pregnant with tigers, dragons, wolves and bears;
swell with new monsters, which have never
before been seen on the face of the earth!
Oh, a root!–Much thanks!–
Dry up all vegetables, vines and ploughed fields,
which ungrateful man uses to make liquor and
greasy food, which makes his pure mind so greasy
that all ability to think slips from it!
Enter APEMANTUS
More man? plague, plague!
More humanity? A plague on it!
APEMANTUS
I was directed hither: men report
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
I was told to come here. Men are saying
that you are copying me.
TIMON
'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!
If I am it's only because you haven't got a dog
I could imitate instead: may consumption overwhelm you!
APEMANTUS
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?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.
This is just an affectation on your part;
a poor unmanly depression coming from
your change of fortunes. Why this spade? This place?
These slave's clothes? And these careworn looks?
Your flatterers are still wearing silk, drinking wine, sleeping in soft beds;
they are cuddling their diseased mistresses, and have forgotten
that Timon ever existed. Don't embarrass these woods
by taking up the profession of a cynic.
Become a flatterer yourself, and try to succeed
through the thing which caused your downfall: bend the knee,
bow down so low that the person you're flattering can
blow off your cap with his breath; praise his most revolting quality,
and call it excellent: this is what others did to you;
you were like a barman who is prepared to listen
to any knave who comes in: it would be very apt
for you to become a rascal; if you had wealth again,
rascals would have it. Don't copy me.
TIMON
Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.
If I was like you, I'd kill myself.
APEMANTUS
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 outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip where 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 an the spite
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements exposed,
Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
O, thou shalt find--
You've already killed yourself, by being who you are;
you were a madman so long, now you're a fool. What,
do you think that the cold air, your hearty servant,
will give you a nice warm shirt? Will these moss covered trees,
that have lived longer than the eagles, follow you around
and do whatever you tell them? Will the cold stream,
c
overed with ice, bring you a warm drink in the morning
to soothe the results of your indulgence? Call the creatures
who live out here exposed to all the spite
of vengeful heaven, whose bare roofless bodies
are exposed to all the elements, enduring nature
in its undiluted form; tell them to flatter you.
Oh, you shall find–
TIMON
A fool of thee: depart.
You're a fool: go.
APEMANTUS
I love thee better now than e'er I did.
I like you better now than I ever did.
TIMON
I hate thee worse.
I hate you more.
APEMANTUS
Why?
Why?
TIMON
Thou flatter'st misery.
You flatter misery.
APEMANTUS
I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.
I don't flatter; but I say you are a wretch.
TIMON
Why dost thou seek me out?
Why did you look for me?
APEMANTUS
To vex thee.
To annoy you.
TIMON
Always a villain's office or a fool's.
Dost please thyself in't?
The job of a villain or a fool.
Do you enjoy it?
APEMANTUS
Ay.
Yes.
TIMON
What! a knave too?
What! You're a knave as well?
APEMANTUS
If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 635
