Act 4 - Scene 3
Woods and cave, near the seashore.
Enter TIMON, from the cave
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
The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
by contempt of nature.
Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
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
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd
societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
Destruction fang mankind!
Earth, yield me roots!
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison! What is here?
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 heads:
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,
Make the hoar
leprosy adored, place thieves
And give them title, knee and approbation
With senators on the bench: this
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
whore of mankind, that put'st odds
Among the route 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
Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
Keeping some gold
Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA
What art thou there? speak.
A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
For showing me again the eyes of man!
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?
I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee
I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.