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Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I'll follow, and enquire him out:

I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

The Woods.

Enter TIMON.

Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth

Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb3

Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb, —

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant, -touch them with several fortunes;

The greater scorns the lesser: Not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,

But by contempt of nature. 4

Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord;†
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

In purity of manhood stand upright,

And say, This man's a flatterer? if one be,

3 below thy sister's orb—] That is, the moon's, this sublunary world.

4

Not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,

But by contempt of nature.] Mr. M. Mason observes, that this passage "but by the addition of a single letter may be rendered clearly intelligible; by merely reading natures instead of nature.” The meaning will then be "Not even beings reduced to the utmost extremity of wretchedness, can bear good fortune, without contemning their fellow-creatures."

+ "deny't that lord;"- MALONE.

So are they all; for every grize of fortune
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique ;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorr'd
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
Destruction fang mankind! - 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, va-

liant.

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;
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,

5

- for every grize of fortune-] Grize for step or degree. 6 fang mankind!] i. e. seize, gripe.

7 — no idle votarist.] No insincere or inconstant supplicant. Gold will not serve me instead of roots. JOHNSON.

8

you clear heavens !] This may mean either or ye deities exempt from guilt.

ye cloudless skies,

9 To the April day again.] The April day does not relate to the widow, but to the other diseased female, who is represented as the

[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee

1

Do thy right nature. 1- [March afar off]-Ha! a drum? Thou'rt quick, 2

But yet I'll bury thee: Thou'lt go, strong thief,

When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand: -
Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

[Keeping some gold.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with Drum and Fife, in warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.

[blocks in formation]

For showing me again the eyes of man!

Alcib. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,

That art thyself a man?

Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

Alcib.

I know thee well;

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

Tim. I know thee too; and more, than that I know

thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;

Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.

Phry.

Thy lips rot off!

outcast of an hospital. She it is whom gold embalms and spices to the April day again: i. e. gold restores her to all the freshness and sweetness of youth.

1 Do thy right nature.] Lie in the earth where nature laid thee.

2

Thou'rt quick,] Thou hast life and motion in thee.

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