March afarre off.
Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke, But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe) When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand: Nay stay thou out for earnest. Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra.
Alc. What art thou there? speake
Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart For shewing me againe the eyes of Man
Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee, That art thy selfe a Man? Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge, That I might loue thee something
Alc. I know thee well: But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange
Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme, With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules: Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell, Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine, Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword, For all her Cherubin looke
Phrin. Thy lips rot off
Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes To thine owne lippes againe
Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change? Tim. As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue: But then renew I could not like the Moone, There were no Sunnes to borrow of
Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee? Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion
Alc. What is it Timon? Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none. If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou art a man: if thou do'st performe, confound thee, for thou art a man
Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries
Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie
Alc. I see them now, then was a blessed time
Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots
Timan. Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world Voic'd so regardfully? Tim. Art thou Timandra? Timan. Yes
Tim. Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee, giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make vse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes and Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast, and the Diet
Timan. Hang thee Monster
Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd and lost in his Calamities. I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon, The want whereof, doth dayly make reuolt In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd How cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them
Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone
Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon
Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble, I had rather be alone
Alc. Why fare thee well: Heere is some Gold for thee
Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it
Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape
Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens
Alc. I Timon, and haue cause
Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest, And thee after, when thou hast Conquer'd
Alc. Why me, Timon? Tim. That by killing of Villaines Thou was't borne to conquer my Country. Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on; Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue Will o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyson In the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one: Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard, He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron, It is her habite onely, that is honest, Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke Make soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappes That through the window Barne bore at mens eyes, Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ, But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe Whose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy; Thinke it a Bastard, whom the Oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects, Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes, Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes, Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a iot. There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers, Make large confusion: and thy fury spent, Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone