yet now my gathered heaps being spread abroad,
shall turn to better and more fruitful uses.
Bless then this man, curse him no more for saving
my life and soul together. O, how deeply
the bitter curses of the poor do pierce!

I am by wonder changed: come in with me
and witness my repentance; now I prove,
no life is blest, that is not graced with love.

for showing me again the eyes of man!

Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, that art thyself a man?

Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.

Alc.

For thy part I do wish thou wert a dog,
that I might love thee something.

I know thee well;
but in thy fortunes am unlearned and strange.
How came the noble Timon to this change?
Tim. 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. Alc. Noble Timon,
what friendship may I do thee?

Tim.
None, but to
maintain my opinion. Alc. What is it, Timon?
Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none: If
thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for
thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee
for thou'rt a man!

Alc. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
Tim. Thou sawest them, when I had prosperity.

1458

Al

THE

W. SHAKESPEARE

APOLOGY FOR THIEVERY

HE world's a theatre of theft. Great rivers rob smaller brooks, and them the ocean. And in this world of ours, this microcosm, guts from the stomach steal, and what they spare the meseraicks filch, and lay i' the liver:

Ro.

where, lest it should be found, turn'd to red nectar,
'tis by a thousand thievish veins conveyed

and hid in flesh, nerves, bones, muscles and sinews,
in tendons, skin and hair; so that the property
thus alter'd, the theft can never be discover'd.
Now all these pilf'ries, couch'd and compos'd in order,
frame thee and me. Man's a quick mass of thievery.
Most philosophical Albumazar.

Ha. I thought these parts had lent and borrow'd mutual.
Al. Say they do so: 'tis done with full intention
ne'er to restore, and that's flat robbery.
Therefore go on, follow your virtuous laws,
your cardinal virtue, great necessity;
wait on her close with all occasions.

1459

Be watchful, have as many eyes as Heaven,
and ears, as harvest; be resolved and impudent:
believe none, trust none; for in this city
(as in a fought field, crows and carcases)
no dwellers are, but cheaters and cheatees.

ADDRESS TO THE AUDIENCE

J. TOMKIS

HO is so patient of this impious world,

Asper WHO

that he can check his spirit, or rein his tongue?

Who can behold such prodigies as these,
and have his lips seal'd up? Not I; my soul
was never ground into such oily colours,

to flatter vice and daub iniquity:

but with an arméd and resolvéd hand
I'll strip the ragged follies of the time,
naked as at their birth.

I fear no mood stampt in a private brow,
when I am pleased to unmask a public vice.
I fear no strumpet's drugs, nor ruffian's stab,
should I detect their hateful luxuries:

no broker's, usurer's, or lawyer's gripe,
were I dispos'd to say, they're all corrupt.
I fear no courtier's frown, should I applaud
the easy flexure of his supple hams.

Tut, these are so innate and popular,

that drunken custom would not shame to laugh in scorn at him, that should not dare to tax 'em.

B. JONSON

1460

ANTIPHOLUS-ANGELO

Ang: MASTER Antipholus?

Ant.

Ang.

Ant.

Ang. Ant. Ang.

Ant.

Ang.
Ant.

1461

Ay, that's my name.

I know it well, Sir: lo, here is the .chain;
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine:
the chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
What is your will, that I should do with this?
What please yourself, Sir; I have made it for you.
Made it for me, Sir! I bespoke it not.

Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have:
go home with it, and please your wife withal;
and soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
and then receive my money for the chain.
I pray you, Sir, receive the money now
for fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
You are a merry man, Sir; fare you well.
What I should think of this, I cannot tell;
but this I think, there's no man is so vain,
that would refuse so fair an offered chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
when in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay;
if any ship put out, then straight away.

W. SHAKESPEARE

WHOSE lodging's this? is't not the astrologer's?

P. W

R.

P.

R.

P.

His lodging! no: 'tis the learned phrontisterion of most divine Albumazar.

Good Sir,

if the door break, a better shall redeem it.

How? all your land, sold at a hundred years' purchase, cannot repair the damage of one poor rap:

to thunder at the phrontisterion

of great Albumazar!

Why man? what harm?

R. Sir, you must know my master's heavenly brain
pregnant with mysteries of metaphysicks,

grows to an embryo of rare contemplation,
which at full time brought forth excels by far
the arméd fruit of Vulcan's midwifery.

P. What of all this?

R. Thus, one of your bold thunders may abortive,

and cause that miscarry, that might have prov'd
an instrument of wonder greater and rarer
than Apollonius the magician wrought.

P. When may I speak with him?

R. When 't please the stars.

1462

he pulls you not a hair, nor pares a nail,
nor stirs a foot, without due figuring

the horoscope. Sit down awhile an't please you,
I see the heavens incline to his approach.

THE WORLD'S A STAGE

LL the world's a stage,

ALL

J. TOMKIS

and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. At first the infant, mewling and, puking in the nurse's arms: then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwillingly to school. And then the lover, sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier; full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation

even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,'
in fair round belly with good capon lin❜d,
with eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
full of wise saws and modern instances;

and so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
into the lean and slippered pantaloon;
with spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
his youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
for his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
turning again towards childish treble, pipes
and whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
that ends this strange eventful history,

is second childishness and mere oblivion:

sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

W. SHAKESPEARE

1463 DIALOGUE BETWEEN A FATHER AND A SOPHIST

F.

S.

TUTOR TO HIS SON

HOU hast destroyed the morals of my son,

THOU

and turned his mind, not so disposed, to vice, unholy pedagogue! With morning drams,

a filthy custom which he caught from thee,
clean from his former practise, now he saps
his youthful vigour. Is it thus you school him?
And if I did, what harms him? Why complain you?
He does but follow what the wise prescribe,

the great voluptuous law of Epicurus,

Pleasure, the best of all good things on earth; and how but thus can pleasure be obtained? F. Virtue will give it him.

S.

F.

1464

And what but virtue

is our philosophy? When have you met

one of our sect flushed and disguised with wine?
or one, but one of those you tax so roundly
on whom to fix a fault?

Not one, but all,
all who march forth with supercilious brow
high-arched with pride, beating the city rounds,
like constables in quest of rogues and outlaws,
to find that prodigy in human nature

a wise and perfect man! What is your science
but kitchen-science? wisely to descant
upon the choice bits of a savoury carp,
and prove by logic that his summum bonum
lies in his head; there you can lecture well,

and, whilst your grey beards wag, the gaping guest
sits wondering with a foolish face of praise.

R. CUMBERLAND

ANTIPHOL US-DROMIO-MERCHANT

Mer. lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
ΤΗ

'HEREFORE, give out, you are of Epidamnum,

This very day, a Syracusian merchant

is apprehended for arrival here;

and, not being able to buy out his life,
according to the statute of the town,
dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.