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Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-barn bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ;
Set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy ;
Think it a bastard, whon 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 fight of prieft in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy foldiers.
Make large confufion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

Alc. Haft thou gold yet?
I'll take the gold thou giv'st me, not thy counsel.

Tim. Doft thou, or dost thou not, Heaven's curse upon thee!
Both. Give us some gold, good Timon. Haft 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're not othable,
Although I know you'll swear, terribly swear,
Iato trong shudders, and to heavenly agues,
The immortal Gods that hear you. Spare your oaths :
I'll trust to your conditions. Be whores ftill.
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoak,
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, and whore on still ;
Paint till
a horse
may mire

upon your face; A pox of wrinkles !

Both. Well, more gold -what then?
Believe that we'll do any thing for gold.

Tim Consumptions fow
In hollow bones of men ; strike the sharp shins,
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And marr men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,

That he may never more false title plead,
Nor found his quillets fhrilly : hoar the famer, ,
That scolds against the quality of flesh,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,
Down with it fiat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the general weal: make curl-pate rufians 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!

Both. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timoni Tim. More whore, more mischief first. I've given you

earneft. Alc. Strike up the drums towards Athens. Farewel, Timoz; If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.
Alc. I never did thee harm.
Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me,
Alc. Call it thou that harm?

Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee hence. Away,
And take thy beagles with thee.
Alc. We but offend him. Strike.

[Drum beats, Exeunt Alcib. Phrynia, and Timandra. Tim. [Digging.] That nature being fick of man's une

Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-fame mettle,
Whercof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft,
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 fons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!
Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb;


Hamlet. _Where wilt thou lead med speak,

further Ghost. Mark me.' Ham. I will

Ill go no

Let it no more bring out ingrateful man :
Go great with tygers, dragons, wolves, and bears ;
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented-0, a root-Dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas,
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts g.
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips.-

Enter Apemantus.
More man! Plague! plagus !

Apem. I was directed hither. Men report Thou dost affect my manners, and doft use them.

Tim. 'Tis then because thou doft not keep a dog Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!

Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected, A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung From change of fortune. Why this fpade ? this place? This flave-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 Hatterer 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 want told thus; Thou gav'st thine ears (like tapiters, 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

Tim. Were I like thee; I'd throw away myself.

Apem. Thou'st caft away thyself, being like thyself,
So long a madman, now a fool. What think'st thou,
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist trees,
That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And kip when thou point'it out? Will the cold brook,



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