Pleasant dialogues and dramma's :: :: University of Virginia Library

This Dialogue of Riches doth entreat;
Of their true use: how they with lucre great
Are long acquir'd, and how soone lost. The cause
Of this Discourse is grounded from th' applause
Timon first had in Athens, where he sway'd,
For his wealths sake, being honor' d and obay' d.
Who after a most riotous expence,
Having consum' d his state, and growne to sence
Of Povertie; such as he rais' d he tries,
But findes them now his person to despise.
He seeing how base avarice did blinde
The world that time, in hate of all Mankinde,
So devious from Vertue, did propose
A new name to himselfe, Misanthropos;
Which gives this Tractat name. Th' Authors intent
Being to shew, how proud and insolent
Riches make men: and have it understood,
How they pursue the Bad, but fly the Good.
Reade and observe, this Dialogue affords
Much excellent matter, coucht up in few words.

The Dialogve.

Timon.

O Iupiter , loving and sociable,
That art domesticall and hospitable,
The lightning-blaster, Oath and Iury-shaker,
Cloud-gathering god, and the great Thunder-maker:
Or if thou any other syr-name hast,
Such as by th' antient Poets in times past
Hath to thy deitie been madly given,
To patch their halting Verse, and make 't run even,
(For thee a thousand nick-names are pursuing,
To helpe their Lines, and keep their Rymes from ruin)
Where's now thy all-fear'd lightning, breeding wonder?
Where's thyne high streperous and loud voic'd thunder?
Thy radiant and bright burning bolts (once dreaded)
What, are thy late keen pointed darts unheaded?
All these, since thou with-heldst thy terrible stroke,
Appeare vaine trifles, and Poeticke smoke,
And of thy great power nothing else proclaimes,
Save meere verbositie, and noise of Names.
For these thy Poetised tooles for war,
Which being drawne, both reacht and wounded far;
I know not by what means, but now at length,
Blunt is their chastning edge, and lost their strength;
So cold and frozen they about thee lie,
That of thy wrath no sparke we can espie
Kindled against the Nocent. These perjurers
(Iesting at sufferance) make themselves assurers
Of their owne safety: being no more afraid
Of thy unquenchable lightning, than dismaid
At common fire extinguisht: it shewes like
To them, as if thou shouldst some Tition strike,
And they looke on; dreading no more thine ire,
Than his whose strugling breathes forth Ætna's fire:

Presuming no more wound belongs vnto't,
Than only to be smudg'd and grim'd with soot.
From hence it comes, that

Salmoneus , was said to be the sonne of Eolus, not he whom the Poets feigne to be the god of the winds, but one of that name, who raigned in the Citty of Elis in Greece. He willing to appeare unto his subjects to be a God, and no man, and so to assume unto himselfe divine adoration, made a bridge of brasse over a great part of the Citty, over which he used to hurry his Chariot, whose wheeles were shod with rough iron, thinking therby to imitate Ioves thunder, for which insolence, Iupiter being justly incenst against him, stroke him with a true thunder-bolt, and sent him quicke to hell. A type of pride, justly punished.

Salmoneus dare
With thee in thy loud thunders to compare:
Nor strange; he a man that bold and daring is,
And thou a god so sufferant and remisse:
What could he lesse do than such revels keepe,
Since thou hast drunke

Mandragora, an herbe so called, because it beareth Apples sweet smelling, of an extraordinary greatnes, the Latines call it Malum terræ, id est, the Apple of the earth. It is that which we call the Mandrake.

Mandragora, to sleepe
And snort away thy time? even still forbearing
Such as blaspheme and neuer cease forswearing.
Besides, like one that such misdoers tenders,
Not plaguing them, thou plumpst up great offendors.
Some hold thee blinde, and cannot see what's done:
Some, easie to be foold: like rumors runne,
That thou art deafe on both sides: others hold,
Thou art decrepit, and of late growne old.

When thou wast in thy former youth and prime,
Thou didst not sloathfully mis-spend thy time;
Then thou hadst spleen, and vnto wrath wast prone,
Vengeance and iust infliction grac'd thy throne,
And wast indeed such an all-dreaded god,
No malefactor could escape thy rod:
Thou heldst with such no covenant, but thy darts
Were still in action to amase their hearts;
Thy invulnerable arme advancing hye,
Whilst through the earth thy flashing lightnings flye,
Drawne from thy quiver, where they late did sticke,
Shot as from warring Archers, swift and thicke.

Besides these, fearefull earthquakes, which were many,
such as her reverend brest tare vp and cranny
Mountaines of snow by drifts made, haile in such
Aboundance, that of late we see none such:
Impetuous showres of raine made torrents rise.
And riuers o're their banks to tyrannise.
It hath been said, In good

Deucalion, was the sonne of Prometheus, and married Pyrrha the daughter of Epimetheus. Whilst he raigned in Thessaly came the universall Deluge, which drowned all the world, only he and his wife, got into a ship and saved themselves: their vessell first touching on the hill Pernassus, where the dry land first appeared, which was meerely a fiction of the Poets, who had heard or read of the generall Innundation, in him figuring Noah and his Arke. Others thinke that this floud happened onely in Greece and Italy, and that in the yeare of the world 2440. after Noahs floud 744.

Deucalions age
Such sudden inundations 'gan to rage,

That all mankinde being drownd in one account,
Scarse was one skyffe sav'd on

Lycoris Mount, by which Lucian intends no other than the two topt Pernassus, before spoken of.

Licoris Mount;
In that, Humanities small seeds reserving:
From whence a generation lesse deserving,
And much more impious grew: they imitating
What's bad, and worse and worse stil propagating.

Nor is there cause thou shouldst with them be wroth,
Receiving but the guerdon of thy sloath.
Who now vnto thy Altars offerings bring?
Or to thy dreadfull name loud Poems sing?
Thou now hast neither sacrifice nor praise,
Nor is thy ruinous Temple hung with Bayes;
Vnlesse by chance some by Olympus passe,
And call to minde that such a god once was,
(And rather too for fashion sake, than feare)
Perhaps some thrifty Offering may leaue there:
Like Saturne they would deale with thee (I tell thee)
And (as thou him) so from thy throne expell thee.

I here omit, whilst thou hast elsewhere trifled,
How often thy great Temple hath been rifled,
Ransackt and spoild, whilst thou the loud tongu'd Crier
(O'regrowne with sloath, as if thou didst desire
Thine owne vndoing) not once wake nor call
The dogs there kenel'd, make them barke and ball,
Nor raise the drowsie neighbours, sleeping fast,
To present rescue, till the theeues were past:
But thou the generous Gyant tamer, who
Dost boast in the great Gyants overthrow,
Didst like a sot sit neither grac't nor fear'd,
Whilst from thy chin they shav'd away thy beard:
Yet thou even at that instant wert so strong,
To hold a dart that was ten cubits long.
O thou so famous, what wilt thou endure
In th' end, if still thou wilt be thus secure?
Or at what time wilt thou extirp the seeds
(By thy just vengeance) of those grosse misdeeds?

How many bold aspiring Phaetons, or
Deucalions canst thou finde? Hie expiat for
This inexhausted wickednesse still flowing
From corrupt mankinde, and thou all this knowing.

Impertinent things I will submit to Fate,
And passe in silence: only now relate
Myne owne particular wrongs. How many great
And mighty of th' Athenians, to the seat
Of knowne sublimitie hath Timon rais'd,
Creating them from beggars? whilst they prais'd
And magnify'd my bountie. Vnto all
I spred my open hand and liberall;
In which most men (before me) I exceeded,
As generally supplying such as needed,
My riches 'mongst my friends parted and given,
Till I my selfe to penurie was driven.
Then suddenly a stranger I was growne,
And to my most familiar friends not known:
Those (when I past them) that would croutch and bend,
In adoration: those that did depend
Vpon my grace, my presence cannot brooke,
Nor on my wants so much as daigne a looke.
If (as sometimes) I chance to crosse the street,
And any one of these my Creatures meet.
“As of some statue, by long time decaid,
“They shun my shadow, of my fall afraid.
And others likewise that from far espy me,
Into some by-lane skrew themselves, so fly me,
Make me an ominous spectacle of Fate,
As if malevolent and vnfortunate:
Who in my better daies was their Director,
Styl'd by themselves, their Father and Protector.
These mischiefes growing, to be made so vile,
My owne deep counsels I 'gan reconcile,
Snatcht vp this mattocke, chus'd a field out, where
The Earths faire brest I am forc'd to wound and teare?

And thus my time in labor weare away,
Being hyr'd for some foure halfe pence by the day.
Thus with my spade in solitude here I
Reade to my selfe myne owne Philosophy.
The profit reapt hence is, to be remoat,
And live out of the sight of such as doat
On smoky vanities, those that inherit
Plenty of all things, and yet nothing merit;
And that doth most torment me. Now at length,
Saturn and Rheas off-spring shew thy strength;(

(Iupiter

Thy profound sleepe shake off, for thou indeed
In sloath dost

Epimenides, was a Poet of Creet, whom Saint Paul in his Epistle (as Beza is of opinion) cited. It is reported of him, that his father sending him into the field to keep his Cattell, by chance he light into a Cave where he slept 75. yeares, whence a Proverb against all sloathfull men grew, Vltra Epimenidis somnum dormisti, id est, Thou hast slept beyond the sleep of Epimenides. At his returne he found his brother a very old man, by whom he understood, all that happened in his absence, and was after worshipped as a god. He lived in the yeare of the world 3370. much about the time of the destruction of Hierusalem, &c.

Epimenides exceed.
Hand once againe thy Trisulk, and retire
To Oeta, and there kindle 't with new fire:
Being full of flames, when they most hotly glow,
Part of that vengefull indignation show
Which to thyne high Tribunal did belong,
When thou wert Iupiter the yong and strong:
Else still to those reproches subject be,
The Cretans cast vpon thy Tombe and thee.

Iupiter.
What is he, so vociferously exclaimes,
O Mercury, and Vs so often names?
Hs tedious clamors in myne eares sound shrill
(Neere vnto Athens) from Himettus hill,
Iust at the mountaines foot, deject and sad,
Pale, meager, lame, and in a goats skin clad?
It seemes to me that delving is his trade,
His eies cast downe, he leanes vpon his spade:
'Tis a bold speaking fellow, confident too
In what he saith. After this sort to doo
Philosophers were wont, and they alone,
And 'tis a wonder but this fellow's one,
That dares against our deitie devise
Such impious and vnheard of blasphemies.

Mercury.
Do you not know him (Father) thus forlorne,
Son to Echicratides, in Collite borne;

Timon his name, with whom we both haue guested,
And in our annuall Sacreds often feasted:
He on the sudden with such plenty fill'd,
Who at the altars of the gods hath kild
Whole Hecatombs, and in his height of wealth
Hath quaft vnto vs many a gratefull health.

Iupiter.
Whence comes this sudden change? But is this he
The honest rich man that was knowne so free,
Whom Athens with her loud encomiums grac'd,
And such a multitude of friends embrac'd?
How happens it he is so poorely arrayd,
So miserably dejected and dismaid?
I guesse him by the spade on which he leanes,
Some painfull labourer that works for meanes.

Merc.
You see how his humanitie hath chang'd him,
And freenesse, from his dearest friends estrang'd him:
His mercy vnto others, being so kinde,
And then amongst so many not to finde
One gratefull, hath distraction in him bred,
Still to be living, but to them thought dead.
Considering next how he is scorn'd, derided,
And his revenue and estate divided,
Not amongst Crowes and Wolves, but worser far,
Ravenous and tearing vultures, who still are
Gnawing vpon his liver; those whom he
His friends and best familiars thought to be.
For they who now in his aboundance swim,
Were more delighted in his feasts than him:
Nay, those who at his table did applaud him;
When even unto the bare bones they had gnawne him,
They suckt his very marrow, and then fled;
So to the world gaue him both lost and dead:
Being so far, from miserie to free him,
They would not seeme to know him when they see him.
These brought him to this base despised trade,
And hurld him from the Scepter to the Spade;

Turn'd him out of his purple, here to sweat
And hardly earne his meat before he eat:
For which hee's so possest with mortall spleen
Against mankinde that so ingrate hath been;
Since whom his bounty rais'd and brought to fame,
Scarse now remember Timon had a name.

Iupiter.

Yet one (beleeve me) not to be rejected,
But for his former pietie respected.
Nor blame I him his anger to be such,
By men ingratefull to endure so much.
This zealous and good man not to redeeme,
To favor his afflictions we might seeme:
But we much pitty him, who to maintaine
Our adoration, hath before us slaine
So many Goats and Bulls, and those the best
That his flocks yeelded; so that I protest,
I did approve them for my service meet,
Whose savor in my nosthrils still smells sweet.

As for the boldnesse of that infinite Crew
Of base perjurers, who forsware what's true;
As likewise those in selfe-conceit so strong,
They make no conscience of what's right or wrong;
Such as insult by rapine and rude force,
Oppressing without mercie or remorse,
The Sacrilegious too, such as forbeare
Their publique robberies, not through love but feare;
So many th' are in number, (though I strive)
At their misdeeds I no way can connive.
I cast myne eye of late on Athens, where
So many strange Duels and fencings were,
Such Pro's and Contra's, quarrels in the schooles,
Like mad men railing, some; others like fooles
Gybing: in vprore all, shrill acclamations
Of scolding Disputants; such vociferations,
And those so loudly thundred in myne eare,
The suppliants plaints I could by no means heare.

Therefore with stopt eares I must silent sit,
Or with their confus'd noise be tortur'd yet.

There's a new toy imagin'd by these Nodies,
Of things essentiall, and yet wanting bodies;
Meere fantasies, which they with might and maine
(Though nothing) to have being would maintaine:
Which is the cause I have been so vnkinde,
As this well meaning man not once to minde.
It now remaines his goodnesse to requite:
Hye therefore Mercury, Plutus accite,
With all speed possible command him hither,
And bring with you a magozin togither
Of new coin'd gold, more than the man can tell.
He with his treasure shall with Timon dwell.
Nor shall they easily be remov'd from thence,
Though by his bounty and too large expence,
He would expell them from him. For those Chatterers,
Parrots and Pyes, with other oily flatterers
And Parasits that have ingratefull bin,
I now will study to chastise their sin,
So soone as I my vengefull darts have viewd,
And my three-forked thunder stone renew'd:
Some of the raies are broke, others rebated,
Which with all speed I must have instaurated:
The points are dull'd, since I insenced was
Against the Sophist Anaxagoras,
Who to his Schollers openly profest,
The gods or were not, or were naught at least:
But I through error mist, Pericles bestrid him,
And with his body from my vengeance hid him.
The bolt averted light upon the phane
Where the two brothers deify'de remaine,
(Castor and Pollux) burnt it to the ground.
And not one stone was left about it sound.
But what a punishment will this appeare
Vnto those envious wretches, when they heare,

Timon, in whose oppression they agreed,
Shall them in wealth and potencie exceed;

Mercury.
O but much more availes it for a man
To stretch his throat with all the power he can,
To be obstreperous and heard from far;
I do not meane the balling at the Bar,
Loud railing for fat fees and gaine of gold;
But those like Timon, clamorous and bold,
Who in his Orisons hath been so shrill,
To make great Iove attentive 'gainst his will;
Who had he (smothering griefe) sate still and mute,
Might have long labor'd in a thred-bare sute.

Plutus.
To him, ô Iupiter, I will not go.

Iupiter.
Tell me, ô excellent Plutus, wherefore so?
Especially when thou by us art sent.

Plutus.
Because I have a fearefull president:
Me he with many injuries afflicted,
When I was wholly to his love adicted.
He shooke me off, as one that did deride me,
And into mamocks and small bits divide me,
Even cut me into pieces: would not sell me,
But being his domesticke friend expell me
With forks and prongs, as one insenc'd with ire,
Or casting from his hand hot coles of fire.
And shall I once again enter his dores,
To be consum'd on Sycophants and whores,
Flatterers and such? Send me, ô Iove, I entreat,
To some that vnderstand a gift so great,
Him that to incorporat and hug me strives,
Or such as prize me dearer than their lives.
This stupid fellow hath a covenant made
With Povertie, preferring a poore trade:
A mattocke and a skin-coat from her tooke,
Before my golden and all-tempting looke:
Who now with foure small halfe-pence can make shift,
And yet hath given ten talents at a gift.

Iupiter.

But Timon no such thing hereafter dares
Against thy person: rather he prepares
To honour thee, as one whom Toile and paine
Hath reconcil'd, to welcome thee againe;
His intrals with long fast and hunger clung,
Hath with his minde now likewise chang'd his tongue.

But thou art too complaintive, who accuses
First Timon to me for his late abuses,
Because he with his gates set open wide,
Gave thee free-leaue, there or elsewhere t' abide;
Not keeping thee in obscure prison fast,
(As being jealous of thee) where thou hast
Thy liberty. Againe, thou art inrag'd
Against those Cormorants that haue incag'd
And shut thee up; complaining, Beneath locks,
Keyes, bolts, and seales th'art kept as in the stocks,
From whence thou canst not move, from light excluded,
Living in dungeons and darke holes contruded:
Of such thou hast complaind to me, and wept,
To be so long, so close in darknesse kept;
Looking withall so meager, pale, and wan,
Opprest with care as hadst thou been a man,
Starv'd and shrunke vp, thy sinues drawne together,
Thy fingers clutcht and lam'd; I know not whether
Hoording vp gold this Apoplex compelling,
Or numnesse, made by thy assiduat telling;
Willing to stay with them by no persuasion,
But apt to leave them on the least occasion.

And what above thought makes thee ill bested,
Is, in an iron or a brasen bed
(As thou hast heard of Danae) to be laid,
As there for ever to be kept a maid,
By impious overseers schoold and taught,
Who save in gaine and usurie know nought.

Their grosse absurdities I haue heard thee note,
Who on thy person aboue reason dote;

And being in their power, dare not employ them,
Or lying prostrat to their lust, enjoy them:
They all the while strict vigilancie keeping,
With gard vpon the place where thou art sleeping,
Eying the bolts and bars, and winking never,
As in great hope thou wilt supply them ever,
And haue much profit from thee. Not that they
Mean to make blest vse of thee though they may,
But only keep thee in such strict tuition,
Because none else of thee should have fruition.
Iust like a dog that in the manger lies,
Who though himselfe the provender despise,
As to his pallat a distastefull meat,
Yet will not suffer the poore horse to eat.

I likewise have observ'd thee laugh at those,
Who though they have thee at their free dispose,
Most gripple are in sparing. In a word,
Thou holdst it most ridiculous and absurd,
That such (mean time) should starue themselves, not knowing
To whom (their floure being wither'd) thou art growing:
To what Executor, Servant, or Page,
Steward or Pedagogue, who their spent age
Haue not bestow'd on thee, but on thy coine,
To seise by force, or else by stealth purloine;
And then for his safe hoording and close hiding,
The wretched Master (new deceast) deriding,
Who did so charily in his life time locke it,
And with a snuffe halfe burnt within the sockit,
Or dry rush light, keepe wakefull his faint eies
Vpon his (now) all-forfeit vsuries.
Is it not therefore, Plutus, ill in thee,
That hast of these so oft complain'd to me;
Thy fickle thoughts so suddenly to vary,
And blame in Timon the clean contrary?

Plutus.

Yet if my cause to censure be refer'd,
Iove shall confesse that I haue no way err'd:

Nor is there reason why I should dispense
With Timons lightnesse, rather negligence,
In stead of study, care, and that good-will,
Respect, and love, that should attend me still.

Nor of the adverse part do I approve,
Those that embrace me with an over-love,
Imprisoning and obtruding me so close,
To make me every day more huge and grosse;
Franking me up, to fat me, with intent
I may appeare to them more corpulent;
Yet they themselves, nor vse me in my neatnesse,
Nor shew me vnto others in my greatnesse.

All such I contumelious hold and mad,
Who notwithstanding all good from me had,
Put me in shackles, where I starving ly,
Opprest with hunger, and with thirst still dry:
Not understanding they must shortly leave me
To such as stand wide gaping to receive me.

Nor do I of those Prodigals allow,
Apt to part with me, and not caring how:
Such only I approve amongst the rest,
Who hold a mediocritie the best;
That neither vow to keep an absolute fast,
Or hauing plenty, are inclin'd to wast.

Consider this, ô Ioue, Say that a man
Finde for his choice the fairest Maid he can,
To make his Bride; and when the Nuptiall night
Invites them both to rest, he sets her light,
Neither observes her, nor is tender o're her,
But sets his dores and gates broad wide before her,
To gad and wander at her pleasure, trusts
Her night and day to prostrate where she lusts:
The man that gives such libertie to vice,
What doth he (not preventing) but intice
To lewdnesse? as inviting folke to prove her:
Can such an one be said truly to love her?

Againe, If any shall a Faire one wive,
And bring her to his house; when he should strive
To play the husband, and to procreate
Children as hopefull as legitimate:
Even then of all due Mariage-sweets should grutch her,
Nor in her flourishing prime of beauty touch her;
Vnwilling from a loathsome Gaole to free her,
Where nor himselfe nor any else may see her.
But thus secluded, barren, and depriv'd,
Shall keepe her still a virgin, though long liv'd:
And then, That all this was for love pretend,
Preferring her thus old and neere her end,
With an exhausted body, colour pale,
Deep wrinkled cheeks, and sunk-in eies that faile;
Would you not thinke that man quite from his sences,
Who when by lawfull and most iust pretences
He might have hopefull Issue, and possesse
A goodly sweet yong woman, and no lesse
Amorous, yet suffers her in care and anguish,
Sadly like one of

Cibels Priests, they were called Corybantes, of one Corybantus, the prime of her first attendants. They in all the celebrations of her feasts, used to dance madly, beating upon brazen Cimbals, making a confused noise, from whence such Instruments were called, Æra Corybantia: when they danced about the streets their custome was to begge mony of the people, from whence they tooke the denomination of Collectores Cibeles, or Circulatores, id est, Iuglers: these first inhabited the mount Ida in Phrygia &c.

Ceres Priests to languish?
Thus us'd and I abus'd, am sometimes torne,
Rifled and pluckt in pieces, and in scorne
Baffled and kickt: by others kept alive,
Imprison'd like some branded fugitive.

Iupiter.
Why fretst thou against those made to endure
Strange punishments for sinnes blacke and impure?
Or wherefore art thou at such slaves astonisht,
Who in themselves seest their owne vices punisht:
The one like

Tantalus, was the sonne of Iupiter and Plota, the Nymph, grandfather to Agamemnon, and Menelaus, who entertaining certaine of the gods at a banquet, to make tryall of their divinity, killed, dressed, and served his son Pelops at the feast; which fact, the gods after they had discovered, so abhorr'd, that for the loathsome banquet he made them, they provided him another as distastfull, for being confined to hell, they set him in water up to the chin, and ripe Apples above his head touching his lips, yet gave him not power to stoope to the one to quench his thirst, nor reach to the other, to satisfie his hungry appetite. But for Pelops his sonne, so miserably massacred, Iupiter revived him, and for his shoulder which Ceres unadvisedly had eaten up, he made him one of Ivory; who after this went and sojourned with Oenomaus the father of Meleager, and Deianira, which as Helv. reports, was about the yeare of the world 2650.

Tantalus, in sight of meat,
And alwaies gaping, but forbid to eat:
With such dry chaps they gape vpon their gold,
Not with that sated which they still behold.
The other, though they have it in their pawes,
Ready to glut themselves; from their starv'd jawes
The Harpies snatch it, as from

Phineus, was a King of Arcadia, and the Harpiæ were the daughters of Pontus and Terra, dwelling in Ilands, partly by Sea, partly by land, so called, â rapiendo, or ravening: they are feigned to be fowles, with faces like virgins, and hands like tallons or clawes. Some call them Iupiters dogs: and these, whatsoever the forenamed King provided to eate, snatcht from his table, and greedily devoured: they were after destroyed by Hercules.

Phineus, spoiling
Those dainties for which he so long was toiling,

Go thou from Vs to Timon without feare,
To whom (no doubt) thou wilt be henceforth deare.

Plutus.
But thinke you thatat leng th he will forbeare
To poure me into leaking vessels, where
Though with great labor you maintaine it still,
The liquor runs out faster than you fill;
Sooner exhausting me, to draw me dry,
Than I my selfe can with my selfe supply:
He fearing when I shall with plenty crowne him,
I haue but meerly laid a plot to drowne him.
I shall be as in

Danaus daughters: This Danaus was a King of the Argives, and dwelt in the City Argus. He called the Country, formerly called Achaia, Danaæ, and the generall Nation of the Grecians, Danai. He had fifty daughters, whom he caused to slay in one night the fifty sons of his brother Ægyptus, to whom they were wedded, for whch they were punished by the gods with a perpetual I torment, namely that with bottomlesse pales, they were to fill a tunne without a bottome. They lived in the yeare of the world, 2510.

Danaus daughters tunnes,
No sooner ought pour'd in, but out it runnes;
So many holes being in the bottom drild,
That it draines faster than it can be fild.

Iupiter.
But though the liquor through the vessel breaks,
And that he hath no will to stop these leaks,
But by perpetuall dropping and effusion,
All must of force be wasted in conclusion:
Yet 'mongst the lees and dregs no doubt hee'l finde
His leathern pelt and spade still left behinde.
Go you mean time and see the man possest
Of treasure in aboundance, and the best.
That done, ô Hermes, call at Ætna, where
The

Cyclopes, they were so called because they had but one eye, and that was orbicular and round, they were Vulcans ministers, and forg'd or fram'd his thunder-bolts, there are three amongst them themost eminent, according to the Poets, namely, Brontis, Sterope, and Pirachmon, they were mighty great men, and called Giants, &c.

Cyclops are at worke, and (dost thou heare?)
Bid them repaire to me at my first sending,
For tell them that my three tynd bolt wants mending,
Both edge and point is dull'd and in my spleene
I now must have it sharpen'd and made keene.

Merc.
Plutus let's walke. But stay (thou of such fame)
Tell me how on the sudden cam'st thou lame?
What, and blinde too?

Plutus.
These imperfections lye
Not alwaies, Hermes, in my foot or eye;
Only at some set times. For being sent
By Iove, I am thus lame incontinent,
I know not by what means compeld vntoo't,

But instantly I halt on either foot,
And ere the place before me reach I can,
I am growne a lame decrepit weake old man.
But if I be to part from such, I fly
Swifter than birds make way beneath the sky;
No bars can stop me, furlongs are no more
To me, than narrow strides, I strip before
The windes swift wings, and can deceiue the eye
With my unparaleld velocitie:
Nay even the publique Criers have agreed
To crowne me Victor for my pace and speed.

Merc.
I now perceive thou Plutus idlely pratest,
Since all things are not true that thou relatest:
How many have I knowne but yesterday
Ready to hang themselues, that could not pay
One single halfpenny downe vpon the naile,
To buy an halter with: yet now they saile
In gold and purple; some in Chariots ride,
That had not late a poore Asse to bestride,
Wealth flowing on them in so swift a streame,
That they themselves haue thought it but a dreame.

Plutus.

A thing quite contrarie it is, I vow,
Of which, ô Mercurie, thou twitst me now:
For know, I walke not on myne owne legs when
I am sent by Iove to honest and good men.
But if god

Dis, is the god Pluto, who taketh that denomination â divitijs, of riches, because they are dig'd and torne from the bowels or lower parts of the earth.

Dis shall once command, I run,
For his behest is in an instant don.
He of the great gift-Giuer beares the name,
His Magozin 's in hell, whence gold first came:
And therefore when I shift from man to man,
With all the industry and care they can,
They take me, wrapt and swath'd in Bonds and Bills,
Where one conveyance a whole sheep-skin fills:
So, sign'd and seald, me in some box they smother,
And tosse me 'twixt one party and another.
The owner dead, left in some obscure place,

Where Dogs and Cats may pisse upon his face.

Those that have hope to enjoy me are soon found
I'th Courts, and those hot sented as the hound,
Yawning like to the Swallowes infant brood,
When the dam fluttering to their nest brings food.
Now when the seale 's discover'd on the Will,
And the string cut that bound the rowle vp, still
They gape to see the parchment op't and read,
To know th' Executor to the late Dead.
Then instantly a new heire is proclaim'd.
And either, there, some greasie kinsman nam'd,
Some Sycophant or fawning Parasite,
Or else perhaps a debosht Catamite.
He with a new shav'd chin, being of this treasure
Possest, then studies noveltie and pleasure,
With all rarieties at the height rated,
Which the dead hoorder in his life time hated.
He must be then a gentleman at least,
And with his wealth his Title (needs) encreast,
With change of name: for he that was before
Knowne by the name of

These names, Pythias, Dromus, Tibias, Hyperbolus, and the like, are given according to the Authours fancy, or perhaps aiming at some particular men of like condition then living.

Pyrrhias, Drono, or
Tibias; although the man be still the same,
Must either Megabyzus have to name,
Megacles or Protarchus: his minde swelling
With vaine ostent to gaine a stile excelling.
Even those that did not yawne with deepe inspection
(Though at the first in like state and election)
Into these hidden Mines; now all dis-jointed,
When they behold each other disappointed,
Although they truly mourne, seen but to fret,
To see the small fish Tuny scape the net;
Who as he living did but little eat,
So being dead could not afford much meat.

Now he that groveling falls vpon this Masse,
(Some fat fed Budget, or dull witted Asse,
Who of no good parts or clean life hath bin)

Enters upon it with an unwasht skin:
None treads so softly by him, but he feares,
And like a curre then starts up with prickt eares,
His fellow footmen he despiseth now,
To th' Temple and the Horse-mill doth allow
An adoration equall. Who to dispence
Is able now with his great insolence?
Insufferable he growes, the Good despising,
And o're his Like and equals tyrannising;
Vaunting in mighty things, till Lust, incited
With some faire whore, or otherwise delighted
In keeping Dogs and Horses, or by hearing
His trencher-Flies about his table jearing,
And whispering to him, He is growne more faire
Than the Greeke

Nireus, a faire young man, whom Homer loved, and whose beauty he much extolled.

Nereus, Homer made so rare:
The mischiefe 's, he beleeves it; their verbositie
Persuading him, That in true generositie

Cecrops, was also called Biformis; he was the first King of Athens, and first invented amongst them marriage; he found out Images, builded Altars, and offered Sacrifices amongst the Greekes. He erected the Citty of Athens, and called it after his owne name Cecropia, he flourish d in the yeare of the world 2394. soone after the birth of Moses.

Cecrops and Codrus come behinde him. One
Tells him, Vlisses unto him alone
Submits in wisdome, and persuades the Beast
To be more rich than Crœsus was, at least
By sixteen fold: exhausting by this meane,
And in one breath of time consuming clean
What was by piecemeale gather'd, and did rise
From base extortions, thefts, and perjuries.

Merc.
These are no question true: but when thou go'st
On thine owne feet (being blinde) say how thou know'st
The way thou art to take? how canst thou finde
Such men as are of good and honest minde?
To whom (as now) my father oft times sends thee,
And in his care and providence commends thee.

Plutus.
Thinkst thou I finde those I am sent unto?

Merc.
By Iove not I: if so, how didst thou do,
When lately being to Aristides sent,
Thou to Hipponicus and Callius went,
And other base Athenians, scarce worth thought,

Or a poore single halfpenny, to be bought?
What is the course thou tak'st vpon the way?

Plutus.
Now high, now low, in each blinde path I stray,
Till unawares upon some one I fall,
And be he what he will, that man gets all:
He that is next me, and can first catch hold,
To fasten on me, having seis'd my gold,
Secludes me to some obscure place, possessing
What he long wisht, then openly confessing,
In prayers and vowes, he is to Hermes bound,
By whose assistance this great fortune's found.

Merc.
Is Iove deceiv'd, presuming that thou go'st
To inrich such as he affecteth most,
And thinks them worthy of his largesse?

Plutus.
Right,
O Mercurie, and justly too, my sight
Being defective, and at such times blinde;
And sending me to seeke that, which to finde
So difficult is, and scarcely hath a Being,
Is that a taske with my dim sight agreeing?
In which had quick eyd Argus in my sted
been his inquisitor, he scarce had sped:
The path so narrow and obscure, beside,
It being so rare to see a good man guide
A Cities weale; for those corrupt still sway,
And those in numbers flocking in my way:
I groping, can I possibly eschew
To avoid the many, and select the few?
The wicked alwaies yawning after gaines,
(The others not) how can I scape their traines?

Merc.
I but how comes it, when th'art to forsake
These wretches, thou such voluble speed dost make?
And without rub or the least stumbling, when
Thou canst not see the path before thee?

Plutus.
Then
Both eies and feet assist, and then alone,

When Time invites and calls me to be gone.

Merc.
Another thing resolue me: Tell me how
It comes to passe (ô god of Wealth) that thou
First being blinde, next, of a pale complexion,
Last, crippled in thy feet, canst gaine th' affection
Of so many great friends and lovers, such
As thinke they cannot gaze on thee too much?
Nor can imagin they are truly blest,
Before of thee undoubtedly possest?
Againe, If he that after thee enquires,
Chance to be frustrat in his hot desires;
For such I haue knowne many, and some noted,
That so debashtly on thy person doted,
That at their courting if thou seem'dst but coy,
Have ready been their owne lives to destroy:
Who when they saw they Plutus could not please,
Themselves from hye rocks cast into the seas,
And yet I know, and thou must needs confesse,
(View but thy selfe as I do) thou wilt guesse,
If not conclude, it is not love, but madnesse
Makes them despaire in doating on thy badnesse.

Plutus.
But thinkst thou, Mercurie, I to them appeare
In the same forme as thou beholdst me here,
Or lame or blinde, with such defects about me?

Merc.
O by no means, for I should then misdoubt me
That they were blind as thou art.

Plutus.
But not quite,
O Mercury, like me depriv'd of sight:
And yet there falls on them, as by some chance,
A kinde of error or blinde ignorance,
Which occupies them all, over their eies
Casting a shadowie filme, which doth disguise
My deform'd parts; so I appeare to them
In golden habit, stucke with many a gem:
In pictur'd vesture I seem, passing by,
And thousand colours, to deceive the eye.

These fooles imagining, what I present,
To be my sole and native ornament:
And therefore being enamor'd on my forme,
If not enioy me, then they rage and storme.
But should I be before them naked laid,
And my mis-shapen ouglinesse displaid,
No doubt they would condemne themselves, pursuing
A seeming good, which leades them to their ruin:
Th'are only apt themselves to reconcile
To things in their owne nature base and vile.

Merc.
But when it comes vnto such passe that they
Are filld with wealth, and supply'd every way;
When they have hedg'd, nay walld their riches in,
Some notwithstanding looke so bare and thin,
Withall so gripple, you may sooner teare
Head from the body, than impart what's there?
Besides, it is not probable, but such
As haue with greedy eies perus'd thee much,
Must needly know, (howe're they proudly boast,
Thy outside tin-foild, or but guilt at most?

Plut.
These my defaults (with others) to supply,
I have many ready helps, ô Mercury.

Merc.
Name them I prethee.

Plut.
They no sooner fasten
With greedinesse vpon me, but they hasten
To ope their gates wide, then with me by stealth
Enter (for alwaies they attend on wealth)
Hawtinesse, Boasting, with the mindes destraction,
Effœminacie, and to make vp the faction,
Oppression and Deceit, with th' interest
Of thousand more; with which the heart possest,
Is suddenly subjected and brought under,
To admire toyes which are not worth the wonder,
And covet that which they ought most to fly.
Now with this band of Pensioners garded, I
When thus attended they my state behold,

They never dreame of other god than Gold:
For with such adoration they respect me,
To endure all torments, rather than reject me.

Merc.
How smooth and slick thou art, no where abiding,
But when men thinke thee safest, swiftly gliding
Thorow their fingers, neither can I spy
A handle or an haft to stay thee by,
As we hold pots and glasses; they slip through
The hand as snakes and serpents use to doo.

When Poverty, to thee quite contrary,
Where e're she takes her Inne is apt to tarry:
It gummy cleaves like Bird-lime, uncompeld,
Apt to be seis'd, and easie to be held;
Having a thousand catching hooks, and so
About her plac'd, that hardly she lets go.
But whilst we trifle here, there's one maine thing
We had forgot.

Plut.
What?

Merc.
That we did not bring
Treasure along, it being Ioves intent,
And the chiefe businesse about which we are sent.

Plut.
For that take thou no care: I do not enter
Vpon the earth, (being calld, and leave my Center,
But I have still a care upon my store,
At my departure to shut fast my dore,
Which only opens to me when I call.

Merc.
Let's thither then, and Plutus lest thou fall,
Hold by my cloake, and follow till we come
Vnto the place assign'd.

Plut
Hermes well done,
To leade me thus; for if thou shouldst forsake
Me as I am, I might perchance mistake
My way, and wandring, through my want of sight,
On Hyperbolus or on Cleon light.
But stay, What noise is that? I heare some one
Is with his pick-axe striking against stone.

Merc.
'Tis Timon, who laboriously doth wound
A piece of mountainous and stony ground.
O wondrous! Poverty by him fast stands,
And the rough fellow Labor, with galld hands.
Here's Wisedome, Health, and with them Fortitude,
And besides these, a populous multitude
Of such like Groomes, Need them to worke compelling,
And yet a troupe (me-thinks) thy Gard excelling.

Plut.
Therefore let's post hence with what speed we can.
For, Hermes, how shall we invade a man
Girt with so great an army?

Merc.
Be not afraid,
'Tis Ioves command, whose will must be obayd.

Pov.
O whether lead'st thou Plutus?

Merc.
To inlarge
Timon from hence; for so Iove gave in charge.

Poverty.
Comes he againe to Timon, whom (bereav'd
Of health by many surfets) I receiv'd,
To Wisedome and to Industry commended,
And in his cure so far my skill extended,
I soone restor'd him (as he still doth finde)
Sound in his body, and vpright in minde.
Have I deserv'd such scorne, or do I merit
A wrong, what is myne owne not to inherit?
That you are come, with colorable pretence,
Him (now my sole possession) to take hence?
Whose ruin'd vertues with exactest care
I have much toyld and labor'd to repaire.
Being againe in that blinde gods protection,
Hee'l bring them vassald to their late subjection,
Fill him with arrogance, disdaine, and pride,
And every ill that Goodnesse can mis-guide;
And when all hope of faire amendment's past,
Returne him backe as I receiv'd him last,
Effœminate, sloathfull, franticke, or what not,
A thing of nothing, a meere brainlesse Sot.

Merc.
Thou hear'st Ioves will.

Poverty.
And I to it agree.
Knowledge and Labor doe you follow me,
With all my traine: hee'l shortly to his cost
Finde what a mother he (in me) hath lost;
What a good helper, what a true instructer.
In all good arts a tutresse and conducter:
He, whilst with me he had commerce, was still
Able and healthfull, having strength at will,
Leading a manly life, turning his eies
Vpon his brest, and of proud vanities
And gawdy frailties had at all no care,
But held them trifles, as indeed they are.

Merc.
They now are gone, let us approch more neare.

Timon.
What slaves be these that to myne eies appeare?
Why are you come? what would you? what require?
Of a poore laboring man that works for hire?
You shall not part hence laughing, for know, I
Have store of stones that round about me ly.

Merc.
Assault us not, ô Timon, for in vaine
Thou shalt do so, we are not of the straine
Of mortall race, but gods: I, Mercury:
This, Plutus, sent from the great Deity,
Who doth at length commiserat thy state,
With purpose now to make thee fortunate:
All shall be well, we come to ease thy paine,
Leave off thy worke, henceforth be rich againe.

Tim.
Though to your selves the name of gods you borrow,
Keepe off, or I shall give you cause of sorrow:
Come not too neere me, I at random strike,
For gods and men I now hate both alike:
As for that blinde slave, him I'le first invade,
I vow to rap him soundly with my spade.

Plut.
Let vs be gone, ô Mercurie, hee's mad,
Lest some sad mischiefe from his hand be had.

Merc.
This barbarous spleen good Timon strive to hide,

And thy ferocitie cast quite aside.
With gratitude receive what Iove hath sent,
I strike thee lucke, be rich incontinent:
Prince of th' Athenians thou shalt henceforth bee,
And to contemne them that disdained thee,
Punish their base ingratitude, bee't their griefe
To see thee rais'd, live happy, and their Chiefe.

Plut.
I have no need of you, pray give me leave
To use my labor, and at night receive
My competent wages, 'tis a gainfull trade,
I have wealth enough in using this my spade:
I should be happy if you would forbeare me,
But then most blest if no man would come neere me.

Merc.
Thou speakst too inhumanely; Timon I
This thy harsh language and absurd reply
Will tell my father: Say that from mans brest
Th'hast had more wrongs than thou canst well disgest,
Yet 'tis not good the gods thou shouldst despise,
Who as thou seest all for thy good devise.

Tim.
To thee, ô Mercury, Iove, and the rest
Of the Cœlestiall gods, I here protest,
I hold my selfe much bound, and thanke them for
Their care of me, but Plutus I abhor,
And him I'le not receive.

Merc.
Why?

Tim.

Because I guesse
Him the sole author of my great distresse
And mischiefes manifold, as first betraying me
To oily smooth-tongu'd flatterers, and then laying me
Open to those insidiated my state.
Envy and hate he first did propagate,
Corrupted me with vices, then disclos'd me
To all reproch, and after that expos'd me
To spleen and canker'd malice which exceeded,
And last of all left me when most I needed.

Excellent Povertie contrariwise

Inur'd me unto paines and exercise
Becomming Man; truly and freely wee
Together liv'd in consocietie,
Supplying me with all things, garments, meat,
Which tasted best, being season'd by my sweat.
All vulgar things she taught me to despise,
And looke on frailties with unpartiall eies;
Persuading me, that Hope hath stedfast root,
Where mans owne industrie's assistant too't:
Shewing what Riches should be our delight,
Such namely as no soothing Parasite,
No fawning Sycophant, no mad and rude,
Nay stupid and seditious multitude;
No Orator that gathers from lewd tongues
Bad tales, and heraulds them to others wrongs:
No Tyrant that lies craftily in wait:
When none of these can undermine our state,
Then we are truly rich. Labor hath made
Me able-bodied, whilst I daily trade
In this small field, from whence I cannot see
A thousand ills that in the City bee.
The tooles I worke with plenteously supplying
With needfull things, vprising and down lying.
And therefore Mercury returne I entreat,
Beare with thee Plutus backe to Ioves high seat;
With fond delirements let him others charme,
Me for my part he never more shall harme.

Merc.
Not so, good man, let me advise the best,
Study thyne owne peace, and let others rest.
This peevish (rather childish) spleen forbeare,
And from myne hand receive god Plutus here.
In man 'tis prophanation to despise
Such blessings as Iove sends the Iust and Wise.

Plut.
Wilt thou, ô Timon, heare me to the end,
Whilst I against thee myne owne cause defend,
And suffer me with patience?

Timon.
Speake, but briefly,
Avoiding Proëms and preambles, chiefly
Vs'd by damn'd Orators: see thou be'st short,
I'le listen to thee, but thanke Hermes for't.

Plut.
More liberty by right I ought to claime,
Whom thou of wrongs injuriously dost blame;
Thy invective is with bitternesse extended,
Yet innocent I in nothing have offended,
Who thee of all delicious things prouided,
At thy free will to be dispos'd and guided:
I was the author and chiefe instrument
Of thy authoritie and gouernment;
I gave thee crownes, and furnisht thee with treasure,
Made thee conspicuous, to abound in pleasure.
In all rarieties I thee instated:
By me thou wert observ'd, and celebrated.
If since, ought ill have unto thee betided,
('Cause thou perhaps my goodnesse hast misguided)
By seeming friends or servants, canst thou blame
Plutus for this? I rather should exclaime
On thee, for many contumelies past,
Powring me out 'mongst sordid knaves so fast:
Who only sweld thee with vain-glorious pride,
Devising strange prestigious tricks beside,
Only to draw me from thee. I'th last place
Where thou hast utter'd to my foule disgrace,
I left thee in thy want to starve and pine,
Be witnesse Hermes if the fault were myne:
Who after injuries not to be borne,
Didst cast me from thee in contempt and scorne,
Hence comes it, for thy cloake of purple die,
Thy late beloved Mistresse Poverty
Hath wrapt thee in this skin coat. I attest
Thee, Mercury, how much I was opprest:
And but that Iove commands, by no facilitie
Could I be woon to attone this our hostilitie.

Merc.
But Plutus thou now find'st how he is chang'd,
And from his former humor quite estrang'd.
Therefore have free commerce, dig Timon still,
And in the mean time Plutus vse thy skill,
That as by Ioves behest thou art assign'd,
In delving deep he may this treasure finde.

Timon.
Well Hermes, I obey, and am prepar'd
To be againe made rich: For man 'tis hard
To wrestle with the gods. Observe, I 'ntreat,
Into what miseries and mischiefs great
Thou hast headlong cast me, who (I vow) vntill
This houre liv'd happy, as I might do still.
What ill have I deserv'd, now to be vext,
And once againe with infinite cares perplext,
By fastning on this treasure?

Merc.
And yet take
All, I intreat, in good part for my sake;
Beare it, however weighty and indeed
Almost intolerable, bee't but to breed
Envy in those base Claw-backs: I mean time
Having past Ætna, must Olympus clime.

Plut.

Hee's mounted, hauing left us, making way
With his swift wings: but thou, ô Timon, stay
Till I depart, and to thy power commit
A masse of wealth, solely to manage it.
But strike hard, harder yet; and now to thee
I speake, ô Treasure, most observant bee
Vnto this Timon, with what speed thou hast,
Offer thy selfe by him to be embrac't;
Dig Timon lustily, thy stroke fetch higher,
And worke apace, 'tis time that I retyre.
Too't, my good spade, use both thy edge and strength,
And be not too soone dull'd, till I at length
Have from the Earths deep intrals brought aloft
Thy hidden lustre, and here coucht thee soft
Vpon this grassy verdure. O Iove, father

Of prodigies, or what we else may gather
From thy Divine Pow'r: ô my dearest friends
The Caribanthes, how your love extends?
And thou light-bearing Mercury, behold,
And freely tell me, Whence is all this gold?
It is some dreame, I am deceiv'd, I feare,
These are quicke glowing coles new waked here.
No sure, 'tis excellent gold yellow and bright,
Most ravishing, all-pleasing to the sight,
Beautifull Coine: O let me hug thee then,
Thou art the goddesse of Good-lucke to men:
It flames like fire compact, in this huge cluster
Both night and day it keeps it's glorious luster.
Approch to me my Dearest, how to misse thee
I know not now: Most Amorous let me kisse thee.
Till now I did not credit what was told
Long since, That Iove himselfe was chang'd to gold.
What precise Virgin could retaine the power
Not to hold vp to such a golden shower?
Or being the chastest of all humane daughters,
Not meet him dropping through the tiles and rafters.
Take Midas, Crœsus, and the Magozine
Heapt by the offrings made at Delphos shrine;
Compar'd with this Masse they are nothing too't,
And take the Persian Monarchy to boot.

O Spade, ô Skin-coat, late to me most deere,
To Pan the rurall god I leave you heere.
I'le buy a field remote hence, and obscure,
Where having built a strong tower to secure
This mountainous heape, I'le study (being gone)
How I may best live to my selfe alone.
There will I build my tombe too, e're I dye,
That none may know where Timons ashes lye.

I have decreed, and 'tis establisht in me,
That none from this sequester'd life shall win me,
Nor hate 'gainst all mankinde. Henceforth a guest,

A friend, or a companion, I protest,
Are names forgot in me: Th'Altar of Pitty,
So much esteem'd and honor'd in the City,
I'le hold as a meere trifle. Commiseration
On those that grieve or make loud acclamation,
To give the Needy, or their wants supply,
Shall be to me as blacke iniquitie.
Subversion of good manners I'le allow,
A sad and solitarie life I vow,
Such as Wolves leade, bloud-thirsty to the end,
For only Timon shall be Timons friend;
All else my foes, with whom I am at strife,
As those that still insidiate my life:
To intercourse with any that hath bin
Before my friend, I'le hold a capitall sin,
Deserving expiation: and the day
That I incounter Kinsman in my way,
I'le thinke unprosp'rous: for no more I passe
For Man, than statues made of stone or brasse;
With such I'le hold no covenant. Solitude
Be thou myne aime and end: as for those rude
Of myne owne Tribe, Cousins and Nephewes, or
Myne owne domesticke servants I abhor;
My Country likewise: I to all their shames
Shall count them as meere cold and barren names.
Th' are mad mens Saints, but trifles to the Wise;
Be thou alone rich, Timon, and despise
All else: Thy selfe only thy selfe delight,
And separated live from the loath'd sight
Of Sycophants, (the remnant of thy daies)
Who only swell thee vp with tympanous praise.
Offer thy gifts unto the gods alone,
Feast with thy selfe, be thine owne neighbor, none
Neere thee: whate're is thine partie pate
Vnto thy proper ends, and Rivals hate.

It likewise is decreed, That Timon will

Himselfe use gently and humanely still,
Be his owne page and servant, when his breath
Leaves him, his owne eies he will close in death.
If love vain-glory, hee'l himselfe renowne;
On his owne head his owne hand place a crowne:
No stile of honor be to him so sweet,
As to be call'd Misanthropos, 'tis meet,
Because he hates Mankinde: the Character
That in all ages I desire to weare,
Is Difficultie and Asperitie,
Fiercenesse, Rage, Wrath, and Inhumanitie:
For should I see a poore wretch wrapt in fire,
And he to quench him should my helpe desire,
I would but laugh to see him fry and broile,
Seeking to feed the flame with pitch and oile.

Againe, f passing by a rivers brinke,
And spying one falne in, ready to sinke,
And holding out his hand imploring aid,
Craving to be supported up and staid;
What in this case thinke you would Timon do?
Even dive his head downe to the bottome too.
There are no other lawes confirm'd, than these,
By Timon, son to Echecratides,
Even Timon of Collyte, with his hand
Subscribes to them, which hee'l not countermand.
O now at what a deare rate would I buy,
That present newes might into Athens fly,
And all of them vpon the sudden know
What store I have, how little to bestow.

What noise was that? See, multitudes come posting,
Clouded in dust, and breathlesse, this way coasting?
I wonder how they smelt my gold? Were't best
I clime up to yon hill, from whose high crest
I with more ease with stones may palt them hence?
Or shall I rather for this once dispence
With my harsh lawes? to shew them all my store,

With the bare sight thereof to vex them more?
I hold that best; their comming here I'le stay:
But soft, what's he that's formost on the way?
Gnatonides the Flatterer, who but late
When I was in my miserable estate,
And beg'd of him some food for charitie,
Cast me an halter: yet ingratefull hee
A thousand times hath at my table eaten,
I am glad yet he comes first, first to be beaten.

Gnaton.
Did I not ever thinke the gods above
Could not neglect, but still this good man love?
Haile Timon, thou most faire, most sweet, most kinde,
Bounteous, and alwaies of a generous minde.

Tim.
Haile too Gnatonides, (the corruptest slave
That ever gourmandis'd) what wouldst thou have,
Thou more than many Vultures still devouring?

Gnaton.
It was his custome alwaies to be pouring
Harsh jeasts vpon his friends; his quicke dicacitie
Would evermore be taunting my voracitie,
And it becomes him well. Where shall we dine,
Or whether go to quaffe thy health in wine?
I have a new song got into my pate,
Out of quaint

Dithyrams, were songs sung in honour of Bacchus.

Dythirambs I learn'd it late.

Timon.
But at this time I rather could advise
That thou wouldst study dolefull Elegies,
Such as this spade can teach.

Gnaton.
O Hercules!
Strikes Timon then? with thee, I witnesse these,
Before the

Areopagitæ Iudges or Senatours amongst the Athernians, so called of the place where they sate.

Areopagitæ I
Will have thee call'd in Court: ô I shall die,
See, thou hast wounded me.

Timon.
Nay be not gone;
Two labors thou mayst save me so in one:
Thou shalt complaine of murther.

Gnat.
Timon No:
But rather on my broken pate bestow

Some of thy gold to apply too't, and be sure,
It's both a speedy and miraculous Cure.

Tim.
Still stay'st thou?

Gnat.
I am gon. Wondring hee's growne
Of late so rude, that was so civill knowne.

Tim.
Who's he comes next, all bare and bald before?
Philiades: I know him of the store
Of Sycophants most execrable, who wound
Me in not long since for a piece of ground,
Besides two talents for his daughters dower,
And all that substance did the slave devour,
Because he prais'd my singing: when the rest
Were silent all, he only did protest
And sware, that I did admiration breed,
Nay, dying Swans in sweetnesse much exceed.
I since being sicke, desiring him to have care
Over my health, the Villein did not spare
To spurne me from his gate.

Philiades.
Ingratefull age,
Dost thou at length know Timon, he, the sage
And wise good man: full well did he requite
Gnatonides the soothing Parasite,
And Temporiser, who is only friend
To such as of their wealth can know no end.
But he hath what he merits, a just fate
Depending on th' Vnthankfull and Ingrate:
But we that have been table-guests of old,
Equals, and fellow Citisens, enrold;
Who'twixt us interchang'd the name of brother,
And were not chargeable one to another,
We should renew acquaintance: Sir, God save you,
And beware henceforth how you do behave you
To sacrilegious Parasits that appeare
Alwaies at banquets and abundant cheare:
They are only Smell-feasts, waiting on the Cooks,
But little differing from base Crowes and Rooks,

Men are of late so'bnoxious vnto crimes,
There is no trust to any of these times;
Vnthankfull they are all, and bad: but I
Knowing thy wants, and willing to supply
Thy present uses, purpos'd to have brought
A talent with me; fearing thou hadst owght
To some harsh Creditor; or might have need
For other ends: but by the way indeed,
Hearing to what a surplusage of gaine,
Thou hast arriv'd, I held it a thing vaine.
Yet came I of thy bounty to make proofe,
And counsell thee of things for thy behoofe:
But needlesse were it, Timon being so wise,
That (if he liv'd) he Nestor might advise.

Tim.
'Twas kindely done, Philiades, come neere
And see what welcome I have for thee heere.

Phil.
Thou wretched churle; what vndeserved punishment
Hast thou repaid me for my late admonishment?
I feare he hath broke my necke.

Tim.
Behold a third,
Demeas the Orator; indeed a Bird
Of the same feather: he hath bills, records,
Fables, a man meerly compos'd of words.
He calls himselfe my kinsman; who in one day
(Of myne) to th'Cities Chamber had to pay
Sixteen whole talents, he then in execution:
Yet I redeem'd him, and made full solution
Of all his debts; when he was fast in hold,
I freed him thence: yet was the slave so bold,
That comming after unto eminent place,
Where he with

Erictheides, whom some think to be Ericthonius, or Ericthæus, the fourth King of Athens; he first found oue the use of Coaches, because his feet were deformed. Hs lived in the yeare of the world 2463. about eleven yeare after Israels departure out of Egypt.

Erichtheiades had grace,
(Who had the charge of the whole Treasurie,
And mony by account then due to mee)
He being my feed Advocate as then,
Protested that I was no Citisen;
Therefore not capable my due to claime:

Most loudly lying without feare or shame.

Demeas.

Save thee, ô Timon, thou, of all thy race
The greatest ornament and the prime grace,
Of the whole State the Columne and the stay,
By whom protected and supported, they
Live safe: thou art the stay of Greece, we know,
The people frequently pronounce thee so,
With either Court: but heare what I have writ
In thy great praise, and then consider it.

Timon, of Echecratides the son,
Borne in Collytte, who hath never don
But what became him well; who as he was
Of unstain'd life, in wisedome did surpasse
The Grecian Sages; who from himselfe did steale
His pretious houres, to benefit the Weale.
He was so good a Patriot, besides strong,
And from th' Olympicke wrestling brought along
Great honors by his swiftnesse, by his force,
The foure wheeld Chariot and the single horse.

Tim.
I have not so much as spectator bin
Of what thou sayst I am so eminent in.

Demeas.
All's one for that, we Orators are free,
And what's not yet done may hereafter be:
These are but things of course, and aptly fitted,
I see no reason they should be omitted.
But the last yeare, no longer since, how well
Did he demeane himselfe, nay how excell,
When he against the Achernenses fought,
And their great army vnto ruin brought?
The Spartans in two battels he subdu'd.

Timon.
How can these be? Do not my sence delude:
I never being souldier, nor had minde,
Or the least purpose to be so inclin'd.

Demeas.
'Tis modestie in you, I must confesse,
To be so sparing of your worthinesse.
But as for us, we should be most ingrate,

If we your great worth did not celebrate.
Besides, in Lawes, which (truly understood)
Have been inacted for the publique good;
In privat consultations about war
Or peace, he did transcend all others far,
And brought unto the publique State such profit,
That there is none can speake too loudly of it.
For these just causes it is held convenient,
And by the Lords and Commons thought expedient,
(Being a man so generally respected)
To have a golden statue erected
To this great Commonwealths man Timon, grac'd
So far, as to be next Minerva plac'd,
In her owne Temple, shaking in his hand
(As imitating Iove) a fulminous brand,
Bright raies about his head, and at the least,
Deckt with seven Crownes, to have his name increast.
Next, to have all his glories open laide
In the new Tragedies to Bacchus made.
These solemne Sacreds must be kept this day,
And who more fit than he to act them, pray?
Demect to this decree doth first subscribe,
Because he counts himselfe of Timons tribe,
His neere Ally and kinsman, or indeed
His scholler rather, for he doth exceed
In learning the superlative degree,
As being all what he can wish to bee.
This is the generall suffrage, and thy due:
But how had I forgot? that to thy view
I did not bring my son and heire, the same
Whom I have since calld Timon, by thy name.

Tim.
How can that be, ô Demeas, when thou hast
No wife at all, pretending to live chast?
Thou art a Batchelor.

Dem.
Tush, do not feare,
My purpose is to marry the next yeare.

If heaven permit, and thou shalt heare relation,
That all my study shall be procreation.
Then my first Borne (a boy it shall be sure)
I'le Timon call, to make thy name endure.

Tim.
But if in this sad stroke I not miscarry,
'Twill be a doubt if euer thou shalt marry.

Demeas.
O me, what means this out-rage? art thou wise,
That dost upon thy friends thus tyrannise?
To beat him hence, that hath more quicke conceit
And apprehension in this broken pate,
Than thou in thy great Mazard: neither can
This iustifie thee for an honest man,
Or a good Citisen: This out-rage don,
Shall question thee before the setting Sun;
For I dare justifie, thou durst aspire
To set the Cities Citadel on fire.

Tim.
That calumny will to thyne owne shame turne,
Because the place hath not been seen to burne.

Dem.
But being rich, it may suspected bee,
That thou hast robd the common Treasurie.

Tim.
The bolts and locks are whole, and 'twill appeare
Most vile to such as shall thy scandals heare.

Dem.
It may be rob'd hereafter; i'th mean time
Thou thus possest art guilty of that crime.

Tim.
Mean time take that, 'twill speed thee if't hit right.

Dem.
O me; that blow'twixt neck and shoulders light.

Tim.

Shreeke not so loud, ô Demeas, if thou dost,
Here's a third for thee. Me-thinks it were most
Ridiculous, that being unweapon'd, I
Two mighty Spartan armies made to fly,
And one poore snake not vanquish: so in vain
The honors from Olympus I should gaine,
To championise and wrestle. Soft, what's he?
Grave Thrasicles the Sophist it should be:
The same; I know him by his promisse beard,
And beetle browes: Some things that are not heard

He mutters to himselfe, and his squint eye
Casts towards the Moone, as should his wits there lye:
His unshorne haire beneath his shoulders flowing,
About him scatter'd with continuall blowing:
Like Boreas or some Tryton he appeares;
Iust such as Zeuxes (since not many yeares)
In tables us'd to figure them. Now hee,
In habit rare and thin, makes toward mee,
Pacing a modest, but affected gate,
As if he had new crochets in his pate.
He museth too: wonder you would to heare
Him every morning, with a looke austere,
Dispute of Vertue and her excellent qualitie,
Reproving all delights, only frugalitie,
(Which he affects) extolling. His first care
Is first to wash, then instantly prepare
Himselfe to meat, but at some others charge.
As soone as set, the boy brings him a large
And brim-filld bowle; no liquor him can scape,
So it be strong and prest from the pure Grape,
Like Lethe's water, downe the wine he poures
His yawning throat; talks, At his early houres
What his Positions were and Disputations;
Troubling the hearers with his vain narrations.
Now he begins to gourmandise, and sits
Houering vppon the choice and fattest bits,
(As if the table could not roome afford)
He strikes his neighbors elbow from the bord,
In earnest feeding; crums hang on his beard;
With severall saucers all his chaps are smear'd.
Being almost gorg'd, vpon the fruits he flies,
And almost groveling o're the platters lies;
Tumbling and searching with insatiat minde,
As if in them he vertue hop'd to finde.
With his long finger having scrap'd the dish,
And slapt up all the sauce of flesh or fish,

So cleane, that not a waiter, sparelier fed,
Shall have ought left wherein to dip his bread:
Still sits he as his greasie fists have shap'd him,
Vext, that some glorious morsell hath escap'd him;
Though he alone whole custards hath devour'd,
And his wide throat with tarts and marchpanes scour'd:
Yet hee's not satisfy'd, although at least
He hath gormandiz'd a whole hog at a feast.
Now the best fruits that grow from this voracitie,
Is to be loud, and prate with great audacitie.
His guts full stuft, and braines well toxt with wine,
Himselfe he spruceth, studieth to be fine;
Either prepares his squealing voice to sing,
Or dancing, hops about as he would fling
His gouty legs off from his rotten thighes.
Wearied with these, againe he doth devise
Of new discourse, and that must chiefly bee
Of temperance and grave sobrietie.

Now is he made a sport to all the Bord,
Stammers and lisps, speaks not a ready word;
Then drinks even unto vomit: Last of all,
To take the nasty fellow thence they call.
Then there's with both hands lifting; loth he leaves
The place, and unto some she Minstrell cleaves,
Ready to ravish her in all their view,
To shew that Lust doth Drunkennesse pursue;
Nay in his best sobrietie applying
Himselfe to boldnesse, avarice, and lying;
In which none can out-match him, hee's a Chiefe
Both with the soothing flatterer and Thiefe:
For perjurie there's no man that transcends him,
Imposture ushers, Impudence attends him.
He is an Object of meere obseruation,
Or (truly lookt into) of admiration;
A spectacle of scorne, that wonder brings,
Being made complete from meere imperfect things:

In all his imperfections, more or lesse,
Seeming a kinde of modesty to expresse.
Most strange! O Thrasicles, What make you here?

Thrasicles.

Not with the minde of others I appeare,
O Timon, who come flocking to behold
Thee and thy mighty Magozin of gold,
Perhaps to steale and pilpher, to be guests
Intrusive to thy table and thy feasts;
Who daub thee with pyde flatteries, that indeed
Art a man simple, and dost Counsell need;
A brainlesse Prodigall, wholly given to wast,
Easily parting with what coine thou hast.

Besides, thou art not ignorant, I am sure,
What spare and thrifty dyet I endure,
One Chop or Fragment best with me agreeing,
Even just so much as will maintaine a Beeing:
An onion is a meat to taste my pallat,
But a few water Cresses a choice sallat;
A little salt cast on them, then 'tis rare,
And I account it most delicious fare.
My thirst th' Athenian fountaine sates and fills,
Which by seven cocks it plenteously distills.
This thred-bare cloake by me is prizd more hye
Than the best robe dipt in the Tyrian dye:
For Gold, thou knowst that I esteem't no more
Than I do pebbles scatter'd on the shore.

Yet for thy sake I hither made accesse,
Fearing thy wealth, thy goodnesse might oppresse;
Being corrupt and vile in it's owne beeing,
And no way with thy temperature agreeing,
The rout of irrecoverable ills,
Which seeming most to comfort, soonest kills.
Be rul'd by me, Go instantly and cast
Into the Ocean all the wealth thou hast:
What need of Gold, when all things we supply
By contemplation of Philosophy?

But cast it not into the depth I prethee,
But neere the shore, when only I am with thee;
Enough 'tis if the wave but overflow it,
To cover it, and (save my selfe) none know it.

If this dislike thee, that thou holdst it vaine,
I have another project in my braine,
A nd 't may prove the best course; From forth thy dore
Precipitate and tumble all thy store;
And to expresse a pure abstemious minde,
Of all thy Masse leave not a piece behinde.
There is a third way (like the second) speedy,
Namely, by distributing to the needy;
Who in all eares shall thy donation sound:
To him fiue drachma's, give that man a pound,
A talent to another. If by chance,
Philosophers of austere countenance
Hither to taste thy largesse shall repaire,
Give such a double, nay a treble share,
As to the men most worthy. This (alasse)
I for myne owne part speake not, but to passe
Thy bounty unto others that more need,
And would be thankfull, of thy gift to feed.

For my particular use I crave no more
Than so much at this present from thy store
As would but fill my Scrip, the bulke being small,
Holds two Ægina bushels, and that's all:
To be content with little, moderation
And temperance becomes men of my fashion:
We Sophists, that in wisedome all out-strip,
Should aime at nothing further than our Scrip.

Tim.
All that thou speakst I (Thrasicles) allow;
Yet e're I fill thy wallet, heare me now,
I'le stuffe thy head with tumors, having made
True measure of thy skull with this my spade.

Thrasic.
O Liberty! ô Lawes! neere a free City,
Thus to be us'd by one devoid of pitty!

Tim.
Why, Thrasicles, thus angry dost thou show thee?
Have I not paid thee the full debt I owe thee?
Stay but a little, and t' expresse my love,
Foure measures thou shalt have o're and above.
What further businesse have we now in breeding?
Multitudes hither flocke, in throngs exceeding;
There's Blepsias, Laches, Cniphon, and in brief,
A thousand more that hasten to their grief,
As if they ran for blowes; see how they flocke:
Therefore I'le clyme to th' highest part of this rocke,
I hold that course is for the present best,
And to my wearied spade to give some rest:
Of scatterd'd stones I'le gather me an heape,
And from that place I'le make them skip and leape,
Pouring my haile on them.

Bleps.
Hurle not, we pray,
O Timon, instantly wee'l trudge away.

Tim.
And yet thou shalt with difficultie doo't,
Without some bloud-shed and deep wounds to boot.