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mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward!
SCENE IX. Another part of the Field. Enter HECTOR.
Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death! (Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him.)
Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd; forego this 'vantage, Greek. Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I (Hector falls.) seek. So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
(A retreat sounded.) Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.-
Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
SCENE X.-The same. Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and others marching. Shouts within. Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? Peace, drums. Nest. Achilles! (Within.) Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by AchilAjax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be! Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Agam. March patiently along:-Let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent.If in his death the gods have us befriended, Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. [Exeunt, marching. SCENE XI.-Another part of the Field. Enter ENEAS and Trojans. Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night.
Enter TROILus. Tro. Hector is slain.
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
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 the poor agent despis'd! 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
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 eases; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.
Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
I have a jewel here.
Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for thatPoet. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,
Two Servants of Varro.
It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good,
An old Athenian.
A Page,-a Fool.
Act IV. Scene 1.
Mistresses to Alcibiades.
Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and Attendants.
'Tis a good form. (Looking at the jewel.) Jew. And rich; here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint Our poesy is as a gum, which dozes Shews 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.
'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. Pain. Indifferent.
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.
Here is a touch: Is't good?
I'll say of it,
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 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
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.
The man is honest. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter.
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Tim. (To Lucilius.) Love you the maid?
Does she love him?
I call the gods to witness, I will choose
Tim. How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband? [all. Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, 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 may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!
[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away. What have you there, my friend? Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel
What, my lord? dispraise?
My lord, 'tis rated
As those, which sell, would give: But you well
Things of like value, differing in the owners,
Well mock'd. Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the common
Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou
Apem. Are they not Athenians?
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon.
Tim. Whither art going?
Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
Some twenty horse, all of companionship.
Which all men speak with him.
Jew. We will bear, with your lordship.
Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid? Till I have thank'd you; and, when dinner's done,
And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
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?
Tim. An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apementus?
not cost a man a doit.
Apem. Thou liest.
Poet. Art not one?
Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a poet?
Apem. Then I repent not.
Jew. You know me, Apemantas.
Tim. Right welcome, sir: Apem. Thou knowest, I do; I call thee by thy In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
[Exeunt all but Apemantus.
Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feign'd 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!
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.~ Art not thou a merchant?
Tim. What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Apem. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee!
Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.
Tim. What trumpet's that?
Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight.
Enter two Lords.
1 Lord. What time of day is't, Apemantus? Apem. Time to be honest.
1 Lord. That time serves still.
Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking. How now, poet? But breeds the giver a return exceeding
Apem. The most accursed thou, that still omit'stit. 2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.
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 I mean to give thee none.
1 Lord. Hang thyself.
Apem, No, will do nothing at
thy bidding; [thee hence. or I'll spura heels of the [Exit.
1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
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,
My father's age, and call him to long peace.
O, by no means,
(They all stand ceremoniously looking on Timon.) Nay, my lords, ceremony Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shewn; But where there is true friendship, there needs
Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, Than my fortunes to me. (They sit.) 1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it. Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you
Tim. O, Apemantus ?-you are welcome. Apem.
You shall not make me welcome :
Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame :-
Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon; I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.
Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian; therefore welcome: I myself would have no power: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.
Apem. I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should
Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods! what a number
I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men :
The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov❜d. If I
Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous
Great men should drink with harness on their
throats. Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord. Apem. Flow this way! A brave fellow !-he keep his tides well. Timon, Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill. Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire: This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds. Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.
Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you: How had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! Ojoy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks to forget their faults, I drink to you.
Apem. Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon. 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up.
Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.