Woods and Cave near the Sea-shore. |
|
Enter TIMON from the Cave. |
Tim. O blessed breeding sun! draw from the earth |
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb |
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. |
Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord; |
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, |
The beggar native honour. |
It is the pasture lards the rother'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, |
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 villany. 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 valiant. |
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 head: |
This yellow slave |
Will knit and breath 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, |
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st odds |
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee |
Do thy right nature.—[March afar off.] Ha! a drum? thou'rt quick, |
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. |
Alcib. What art thou there? speak. |
Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart, |
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! |
Tim. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns |
To thine own lips again. |
Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this change? |
Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to give: |
But then renew I could not like the moon; |
There were no suns to borrow of. |
Alcib. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee? |
Tim. None, but to maintain my opinion. |
Alcib. What is it, Timon? |
Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art a man! |
Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. |
Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. |
Alcib. I see them now; then was a blessed time. |
Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. |
Timan. Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world |
Voic'd so regardfully? |
Tim. Art thou Timandra? |
Timan. Yes. |
Tim. Be a whore still; they love thee not that use thee; |
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. |
Make use of thy salt hours; season the slaves |
For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth |
To the tub-fast and the diet. |
Timan. Hang thee, monster! |
Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits |
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. |
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, |
The want whereof doth daily make revolt |
In my penurious band: I have heard and griev'd |
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, |
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, |
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,— |
Tim. I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone. |
Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. |
Tim. How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble? |
I had rather be alone. |
Alcib. Why, fare thee well: |
Here is some gold for thee. |
Tim. Keep it, I cannot eat it. |
Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,— |
Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens? |
Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. |
Tim. The gods confound them all in thy conquest; and |
Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! |
Alcib. Why me, Timon? |
Tim. 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-vic'd 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 a 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 milkpaps, |
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 pronounc'd 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 thy soldiers: |
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, |
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. |
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou giv'st me, |
Not all thy counsel. |
Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! |
Phr. Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more? |
Tim. 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 burdens 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! |
Phr. Timan. Well, more gold. What then? |
Believe 't, that we'll do anything for gold. |
Tim. 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! |
Phr. & Timan. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon. |
Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest. |
Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon: |
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. |
Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. |
Alcib. I never did thee harm. |
Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. |
Alcib. Call'st thou that harm? |
Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take |
Thy beagles with thee. |
Alcib. We but offend him. Strike! [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA. |
Tim. 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; |
Where of in grateful man, with liquorish draughts |
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, |
That from it all consideration slips! |
|
Enter APEMANTUS. |
More man! Plague! plague! |
Apem. I was directed hither: men report |
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them. |
Tim. 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog |
Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee! |
Apem. This is in thee a nature but infected; |
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 diseas'd 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 gav'st 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. |
Tim. Were I like thee I'd throw away myself. |
Apem. 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 outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels |
And skip when thou point'st out? will the cold brook, |
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste |
To cure the o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures |
Whose naked natures live in all the spite |
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks |
To the conflicting elements expos'd, |
Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee; |
O! thou shalt find— |
Tim. A fool of thee. Depart. |
Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. |
Tim. I hate thee worse. |
Apem. Why? |
Tim. Thou flatter'st misery. |
Apem. I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff. |
Tim. Why dost thou seek me out? |
Apem. To vex thee. |
Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. |
Dost please thyself in 't? |
Apem. Ay. |
Tim. What! a knave too? |
Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on |
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou |
Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again |
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery |
Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before; |
The one is filling still, never complete; |
The other, at high wish: best state, contentless, |
Hath a distracted and most wretched being, |
Worse than the worst, content. |
Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. |
Tim. Not by his breath that is more miserable. |
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm |
With favour never clasp'd, but bred a dog. |
Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded |
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords |
To such as may the passive drudges of it |
Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself |
In general riot; melted down thy youth |
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd |
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd |
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, |
Who had the world as my confectionary, |
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men |
At duty, more than I could frame employment, |
That numberless upon me stuck as leaves |
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush |
Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare |
For every storm that blows; I, to bear this, |
That never knew but better, is some burden: |
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time |
Hath made thee hard in 't. Why shouldst thou hate men? |
They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given? |
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, |
Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff |
To some she beggar and compounded thee |
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone! |
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, |
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. |
Apem. Art thou proud yet? |
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. |
Apem. I, that I was |
No prodigal. |
Tim. I, that I am one now: |
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, |
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. |
That the whole life of Athens were in this! |
Thus would I eat it. [Eating a root. |
Apem. Here; I will mend thy feast. |
Tim. First mend my company, take away thyself. |
Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. |
Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; |
If not, I would it were. |
Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens? |
Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, |
Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. |
Apem. Here is no use for gold. |
Tim. The best and truest; |
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. |
Apem. Where liest o' nights, Timon? |
Tim. Under that's above me. |
Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus? |
Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it. |
Tim. Would poison were obedient and knew my mind! |
Apem. Where wouldst thou send it? |
Tim. To sauce thy dishes. |
Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee; eat it. |
Tim. On what I hate I feed not. |
Apem. Dost hate a medlar? |
Tim. Ay, though it look like thee. |
Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means? |
Tim. Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved? |
Apem. Myself. |
Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog. |
Apem. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers? |
Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? |
Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. |
Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts? |
Apem. Ay, Timon. |
Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to. If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass; if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf; if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner; wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury; wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life; all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation! |
Apem. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here; the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts. |
Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city? |
Apem. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else to do, I'll see thee again. |
Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus. |
Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. |
Tim. Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon! |
Apem. A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse! |
Tim. All villains that do stand by thee are pure. |
Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st. |
Tim. If I name thee. |
I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands. |
Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off! |
Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! |
Choler does kill me that thou art alive; |
I swound to see thee. |
Apem. Would thou wouldst burst! |
Tim. Away, |
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose |
A stone by thee. [Throws a stone at him. |
Apem. Beast! |
Tim. Slave! |
Apem. Toad! |
Tim. Rogue, rogue, rogue! |
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought |
But even the mere necessities upon 't. |
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; |
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat |
Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph, |
That death in me at others' lives may laugh. [Looking on the gold. |
O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce |
'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler |
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! |
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, |
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow |
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, |
That solder'st close impossibilities, |
And mak'st them kiss! that speak st with every tongue, |
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts! |
Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue |
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts |
May have the world in empire. |
Apem. Would 'twere so: |
But not till I am dead; I'll say thou'st gold: |
Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. |
Tim. Throng'd to? |
Apem. Ay. |
Tim. Thy back, I prithee. |
Apem. Live, and love thy misery! |
Tim. Long live so, and so die! [Exit APEMANTUS. |
I am quit. |
More things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them. |
|
Enter Thieves. |
First Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy. |
Sec. Thief. It is noised he hath a mass of treasure. |
Third Thief. Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not for 't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it? |
Sec. Thief. True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid. |
First Thief. Is not this he? |
Thieves. Where? |
Sec. Thief. 'Tis his description. |
Third Thief. He; I know him. |
All. Save thee, Timon. |
Tim. Now, thieves? |
All. Soldiers, not thieves. |
Tim. Both too; and women's sons. |
Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. |
Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. |
Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots; |
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs; |
The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips; |
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush |
Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want? |
First Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, |
As beasts, and birds, and fishes. |
Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; |
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con |
That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not |
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft |
In limited professions. Rascal thieves, |
Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape, |
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, |
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; |
His antidotes are poison, and he slays |
More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; |
Do villany, do, since you protest to do 't, |
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: |
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction |
Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief, |
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; |
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves |
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief, |
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen |
From general excrement, each thing's a thief; |
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power |
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves; away! |
Rob one another. There's more gold: cut throats; |
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go, |
Break open shops; nothing can you steal |
But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this |
I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! |
Amen. |
Third Thief. He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it. |
First Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. |
Sec. Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. |
First Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens; there is no time so miserable but a man may be true. [Exeunt Thieves. |
|
Enter FLAVIUS. |
Flav. O you gods! |
Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord? |
Full of decay and failing? O monument |
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! |
What an alteration of honour |
Has desperate want made! |
What viler thing upon the earth than friends |
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! |
How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, |
When man was wish'd to love his enemies! |
Grant I may ever love, and rather woo |
Those that would mischief me than those that do! |
He hath caught me in his eye: I will present |
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord, |
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master! |
|
TIMON comes forward. |
Tim. Away! what art thou? |
Flav. Have you forgot me, sir? |
Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; |
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee. |
Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. |
Tim. Then I know thee not: |
I never had an honest man about me; ay all |
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains. |
Flav. The gods are witness, |
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief |
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. |
Tim. What! dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee, |
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st |
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give, |
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping: |
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping! |
Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, |
To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts |
To entertain me as your steward still. |
Tim. Had I a steward |
So true, so just, and now so comfortable? |
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. |
Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man |
Was born of woman. |
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, |
You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim |
One honest man, mistake me not, but one; |
No more, I pray, and he's a steward. |
How fain would I have hated all mankind! |
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee, |
I fell with curses. |
Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; |
For, by oppressing and betraying me, |
Thou mightst have sooner got another service: |
For many so arrive at second masters |
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,— |
For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,— |
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, |
If not a usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts, |
Expecting in return twenty for one? |
Flav. No, my most worthy master; in whose breast |
Doubt and suspect, alas! are plac'd too late. |
You should have fear'd false times when you did feast; |
Suspect still comes when an estate is least. |
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, |
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, |
Care of your food and living; and, believe it, |
My most honour'd lord, |
For any benefit that points to me, |
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange |
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth |
To requite me by making rich yourself. |
Tim. Look thee, 'tis so. Thou singly honest man, |
Here, take: the gods out of my misery, |
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy; |
But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men; |
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, |
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, |
Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs |
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em, |
Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like blasted woods, |
And may diseases lick up their false bloods! |
And so, farewell and thrive. |
Flav. O! let me stay |
And comfort you, my master. |
Tim. If thou hatest |
Curses, stay not; fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd and free: |
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. [Exeunt, severally. |
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