Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft, Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a Carper. Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine, And call it excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust That thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe, Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse
Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe
Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'st That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees, That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes, To the conflicting Elements expos'd Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt finde
Tim. A Foole of thee: depart
Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did
Tim. I hate thee worse
Ape. Why? Tim. Thou flatter'st misery
Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe
Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out? Ape. To vex thee
Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles. Dost please thy selfe in't? Ape. I
Tim. What, a Knaue too? Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againe Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before: The one is filling still, neuer compleat: The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse then the worst, Content. Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge. Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded, The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords, To such as may the passiue drugges of it Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd The Icie precepts of respect, but followed The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe, Who had the world as my Confectionarie, The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, At duty more then I could frame employment; That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare, For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this, That neuer knew but better, is some burthen: Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men? They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen? If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge) Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone, If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men, Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer