|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
| SCENE III. Woods and cave, near the seashore. |
|
|
Enter TIMON, from the cave
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
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,
5 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;
10 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,
15 And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,
So are they all; for every grise 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,
20 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
25 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.
30 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 heads:
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,
35 Make the hoar leprosy adored, 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
40 Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
Among the route of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.
March afar off
45 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
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
What art thou there? speak.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
50 A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
For showing me again the eyes of man!
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
55 For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,
60 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,
65 For all her cherubim look.
|
|
|
| PHRYNIA |
|
|
|
Thy lips rot off!
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns
To thine own lips again.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
How came the noble Timon to this change?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
70 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.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
75 None, but to
Maintain my opinion.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
What is it, Timon?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou
wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art
80 a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for
thou art a man!
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
I see them now; then was a blessed time.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
85 As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
|
|
|
| TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world
Voiced so regardfully?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Art thou Timandra?
|
|
|
| TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
Yes.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
90 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.
|
|
|
| TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
95 Hang thee, monster!
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
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
100 In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
105 I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Why, fare thee well:
Here is some gold for thee.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
110 Keep it, I cannot eat it.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Ay, Timon, and have cause.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
115 And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Why me, Timon?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
That, by killing of villains,
Thou wast born to conquer my country.
Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;
120 Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-viced 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 an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
125 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 milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
130 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 pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
135 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 soldiers:
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
140 Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
givest me,
Not all thy counsel.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse
145 upon thee!
|
|
|
PHRYNIA
TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
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,
150 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,
155 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 burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,
160 No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,
A pox of wrinkles!
|
|
|
PHRYNIA
TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
Well, more gold: what then?
Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
165 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,
170 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
175 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:
180 Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!
|
|
|
PHRYNIA
TIMANDRA |
|
|
|
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
185 If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
I never did thee harm.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Yes, thou spokest well of me.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
Call'st thou that harm?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
190 Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.
|
|
|
| ALCIBIADES |
|
|
|
We but offend him. Strike!
|
|
|
Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,
Digging
195 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,
200 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,
205 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!--
210 Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!
Enter APEMANTUS
More man? plague, plague!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
215 I was directed hither: men report
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
This is in thee a nature but infected;
220 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 diseased perfumes, and have forgot
225 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,
230 Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
235 Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
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,
240 Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,
That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip where thou point'st out? will the
cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
245 To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures
Whose naked natures live in an the spite
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements exposed,
Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
250 O, thou shalt find--
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
A fool of thee: depart.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
I love thee better now than e'er I did.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I hate thee worse.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Why?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
255 Thou flatter'st misery.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Why dost thou seek me out?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
To vex thee.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Always a villain's office or a fool's.
260 Dost please thyself in't?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Ay.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
What! a knave too?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
265 Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:
The one is filling still, never complete;
The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,
270 Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse than the worst, content.
Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
275 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 drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
280 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,
285 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, hive with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
290 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?
295 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,
300 Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Art thou proud yet?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Ay, that I am not thee.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
I, that I was
No prodigal.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
305 I, that I am one now:
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I'ld 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
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
310 Here; I will mend thy feast.
|
|
|
Offering him a root
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
First mend my company, take away thyself.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;
if not, I would it were.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
315 What wouldst thou have to Athens?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Here is no use for gold.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
The best and truest;
320 For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Where liest o' nights, Timon?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Under that's above me.
Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat
325 it.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Where wouldst thou send it?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
To sauce thy dishes.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the
330 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.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
335 On what I hate I feed not.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Dost hate a medlar?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Ay, though it look like thee.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst
have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou
340 ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou
ever know beloved?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Myself.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a
345 dog.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
What things in the world canst thou nearest compare
to thy flatterers?
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Women nearest; but men, men are the things
themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,
350 Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of
men, and remain a beast with the beasts?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Ay, Timon.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
355 A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'
attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would
beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would
eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would
suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by
360 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
365 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
370 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
375 transformation!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
380 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.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be
385 welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
390 There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
If I name thee.
I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
I would my tongue could rot them off!
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
395 Choler does kill me that thou art alive;
I swound to see thee.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Would thou wouldst burst!
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Away,
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose
400 A stone by thee.
|
|
|
Throws a stone at him
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Beast!
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Slave!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Toad!
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
405 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 the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
410 That death in me at others' lives may laugh.
To 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, loved and delicate wooer,
415 Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
That solder'st close impossibilities,
And makest them kiss! that speak'st with
every tongue,
420 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!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Would 'twere so!
425 But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Throng'd to!
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
Ay.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Thy back, I prithee.
|
|
|
| APEMANTUS |
|
|
|
430 Live, and love thy misery.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Long live so, and so die.
Exit APEMANTUS
I am quit.
Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
|
|
|
Enter Banditti
|
|
|
| First Bandit |
|
|
|
Where should he have this gold? It is some poor
435 fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the
mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his
friends, drove him into this melancholy.
|
|
|
| Second Bandit |
|
|
|
It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
|
|
|
| Third Bandit |
|
|
|
Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not
440 for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously
reserve it, how shall's get it?
|
|
|
| Second Bandit |
|
|
|
True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.
|
|
|
| First Bandit |
|
|
|
Is not this he?
|
|
|
| Banditti |
|
|
|
Where?
|
|
|
| Second Bandit |
|
|
|
445 'Tis his description.
|
|
|
| Third Bandit |
|
|
|
He; I know him.
|
|
|
| Banditti |
|
|
|
Save thee, Timon.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
Now, thieves?
|
|
|
| Banditti |
|
|
|
Soldiers, not thieves.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
450 Both too; and women's sons.
|
|
|
| Banditti |
|
|
|
We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
|
|
|
| TIMON |
|
|
|
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;
455 The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
| |
