Timon of Athens (Folio 1, 1623)
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Timon of Athens.
93
¶If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge)
¶Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,
¶Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer.
¶Ape. Art thou proud yet?
1905Tim. I, that I am not thee.
¶Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall.
¶Tim. I, that I am one now.
¶Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee,
¶I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone:
1910That the whole life of Athens were in this,
¶Thus would I eate it.
¶If not, I would it were.
¶Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt,
¶Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue.
¶For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme.
¶Tim. Vnder that's aboue me.
1925Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?
¶where I eate it.
¶but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy
¶Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much
1935spis'd for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it.
¶Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.
¶Tim. I, though it looke like thee.
¶euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes?
¶thou euer know belou'd?
¶keepe a Dogge.
¶compare to thy Flatterers?
¶pemantus, if it lay in thy power?
1955Ape. I Timon.
¶thee t'attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would
¶beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would
1965thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound
¶pard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the
1970Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy
¶life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence ab-
¶Haue hit vpon it heere.
¶The Commonwealth of Athens, is become
¶out of the Citie.
¶Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter:
¶The plague of Company light vpon thee:
¶I will feare to catch it, and giue way.
1985When I know not what else to do,
¶Ile see thee againe.
¶Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee,
¶Thou shalt be welcome.
¶I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,
1990Then Apemantus.
¶Ape. Thou art the Cap
¶Of all the Fooles aliue.
¶Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough
¶To spit vpon.
1995Ape. A plague on thee,
¶Thou art too bad to curse.
¶Tim. All Villaines
¶That do stand by thee, are pure.
¶Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;
¶But I should infect my hands.
¶Ape. I would my tongue
¶Could rot them off.
¶Choller does kill me,
¶Tim. Slaue.
¶Ape. Toad.
¶Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.
¶Then Timon presently prepare thy graue:
¶Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate
¶Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph,
2020That death in me, at others liues may laugh.
¶O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce
¶Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler
¶of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars,
¶Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer,
¶That lyes on Dians lap.
¶Thou visible God,
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