The Plays of Shakspeare

Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so:

I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death;
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be eall'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet;-You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you!-And thou,

great-siz'd coward!

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

[Exeunt Æneas and Trojans.

AS TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS.

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit Troilus.

Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones! -O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set 'a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see :

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths.

As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall:
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be
made:

It should be now, but that my fear is this,-
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss:
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.

eases;

Exit.

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some | One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,

dedication

To the great lord.

from me.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies

Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your
book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece.

Pain. 'Tis a good piece.

Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on:
All those, which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,

Poet. So'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Pain. Indifferent.

Poet. Admirable: How this grace

Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch: Is't good?

Poet. I'll say of it,

It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord's follow'd!
Poet. The senators of Athens ;-Happy men!
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood
of visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?

Poet. I'll unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd

flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I saw them speak together.
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the

mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,

Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him
Drink the free air.

Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change

of mood,

Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slipdown,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of
fortune

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the
Servant of VENTIDIUS talking with him.

Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you ?

Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is
his debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires

To those have shut him up; which failing to him,
Periods his comfort.

Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather, to shake off
Myfriend when he must need me. I do know him
A gentleman, that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free
him.

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his
ransome;

And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:-
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour!
[Exit-

Enter an Old Athenian.

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: What of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man be-
fore thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!

Enter LUCILIUS.

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.

Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this

thy creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift; And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher.

Tim. Well; what further ?

Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honest.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:

His honesty rewards him in itself,
It must not bear my daughter.
Tim. Does she love him?

Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim. To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be

missing,

I call the gods to witness, I will choose
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.

Tim. How shall she be endow'd,

If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in

future, all.

Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;

To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath. Most noble lord,

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my

promise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never

brains.

Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for.

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? Apem. The best, for the innocence. Tim. Wrought he not well, that painted it? Apem. He wrought better, that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work. Pain. You are a dog.

Apem. Thy mother's of my generation; What's she, if I be a dog?

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

Apem. No; I eat not lords.

Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.

Apem. Thou liest.

Poet. Art not one?

Apem. Yes.

Poet. Then I lie not.

Apem. Art not a poet?

Poet. Yes.

2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice.

2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Should'st have kept one to thyself, for

Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, I mean to give thee none.

where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.'

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so.

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus ?
Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a

lord with my heart.

Tim. What, thyself?

Apem. Ay.

Tim. Wherefore?

Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.

Art not thou a merchant?

Mer. Ay, Apemantus.

1 Lord. Hang thyself.

Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend.

2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the [Exit.

ass.

1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come,
shall we in,

And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of
gold,

Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,

Apem. Traffick confound thee, if the gods will But breeds the giver a return exceeding not!

Mer. If traffick do it, the gods do it.

Apem. Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound thee!

Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.

Tim. What trumpet's that?
Serv. 'Tis Alcibiades, and

Some twenty horse, all of companionship.
Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide
to us.
[Exeunt some Attendants.
You must needs dine with me:-Go not you
hence,
Till I have thank'd you; and, when dinner's
done,
Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.-
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his Company.
Most welcome, sir!

Apem. So, so; there!

[They salute.

Aches contract and starve your supple joints!-
That there should be small love 'mongst these

sweet knaves,

And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungrily on your sight.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending: then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LuCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, and other Athenian Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly.

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pleas'd
the gods remember

My father's age, and call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich :
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose
help

I deriv'd liberty.

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The Plays of Shakspeare, Svazek 2