The Life of Tymon of Athens — Act 4 Scene 3

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim.O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earthRotten humidity: below thy Sisters OrbeInfect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe,Whose procreation, residence, and birth,Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes,The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature(To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great FortuneBut by contempt of Nature.Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord,The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary,The Begger Natiue Honor.It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides,The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who daresIn puritie of Manhood stand vprightAnd say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be,So are they all: for euerie grize of FortuneIs smooth'd by that below. The Learned pateDuckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie:There's nothing leuell in our cursed NaturesBut direct villanIe. Therefore be abhorr'd,All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men.His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines,Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes,Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallateWith thy most operant Poyson. What is heere?Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold?No Gods, I am no idle Votarist,Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will makeBlacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right;Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant.Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why thisWill lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides:Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads.This yellow Slaue,Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th'accurst,Make the hoare Leprosie ador'd, place Theeues,And giue them Title, knee, and approbationWith Senators on the Bench: This is itThat makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe;Shee, whom the Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores,Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and SpicesTo'th'Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth,Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddesAmong the rout of Nations, I will make theeMarch afarre off.Do thy right Nature.Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke,But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe)When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand:Nay stay thou out for earnest.

Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner,and Phrynia and Timandra.

Alc.What art thou there? Speake.

Tim.A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hartFor shewing me againe the eyes of Man.

Alc.What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee,That art thy selfe a Man?

Tim.I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde.For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge,That I might loue thee something.

Alc.I know thee well:But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange.

Tim.I know thee too, and more then that I know theeI not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme,With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules:Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell,Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine,Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword,For all her Cherubin looke.

Phrin.Thy lips rot off.

Tim.I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnesTo thine owne lippes againe.

Alc.How came the Noble Timon to this change?

Tim.As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue:But then renew I could not like the Moone,There were no Sunnes to borrow of.

Alc.Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?

Tim.None, but to maintaine my opinion.

Alc.What is it Timon?

Tim.Promise me Friendship, but performe none.If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thouart a man: if thou do'st performe, confound thee, forthou art a man.

Alc.I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries.

Tim.Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie.

Alc.I see them now, then was a blessed time.

Tim.As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots.

Timan.Is this th'Athenian Minion, whom the worldVoic'd so regardfully?

Tim.Art thou Timandra?

Timan.Yes.

Tim.Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee,giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Makevse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes andBathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast,and the Diet.

Timan.Hang thee Monster.

Alc.Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his witsAre drown'd and lost in his Calamities.I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon,The want whereof, doth dayly make reuoltIn my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'dHow cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth,Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour statesBut for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them.

Tim.I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone.

Alc.I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon.

Tim.How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble,I had rather be alone.

Alc.Why fare thee well:Heere is some Gold for thee.

Tim.Keepe it, I cannot eate it.

Alc.When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape:

Tim.Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens.

Alc.I Timon, and haue cause.

Tim.The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest,And thee after, when thou hast Conquer'd.

Alc.Why me, Timon?

Tim.That by killing of VillainesThou was't borne to conquer my Country.Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on;Be as a Plannetary plague, when IoueWill o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poysonIn the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one:Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard,He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron,It is her habite onely, that is honest,Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheekeMake soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappesThat through the window Barne bore at mens eyes,Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ,But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the BabeWhose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy;Thinke it a Bastard, whom the OracleHath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut,And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects,Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes,Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes,Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding,Shall pierce a iot. There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers,Make large confusion: and thy fury spent,Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone.

Alc.Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest me, not all thy Counsell.

Tim.Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon thee.

Both.Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more?

Tim.Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade,And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you SlutsYour Aprons mountant; you are not Othable,Although I know you'l sweare, terribly sweareInto strong shudders, and to heauenly AguesTh'immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes:Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still.And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you,Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp,Let your close fire predominate his smoke,And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six monthsBe quite contrary, And ThatchYour poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead,(Some that were hang'd) no matter:Weare them, betray with them; Whore still,Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face:A pox of wrinkles.

Both.Well, more Gold, what then?Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold.

Tim.Consumptions soweIn hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes,And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce,That he may neuer more false Title pleade,Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen,That scold'st against the quality of flesh,And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose,Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite awayOf him, that his particular to foreseeSmels from the generall weale. Make curld'pate Ruffians baldAnd let the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the WarreDeriue some paine from you. Plague all,That your Actiuity may defeate and quellThe sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold.Do you damne others, and let this damne you,And ditches graue you all.

Both.More counsell with more Money, bounteous Timon.

Tim.More whore, more Mischeefe first, I hauegiuen you earnest.

Alc.Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewellTimon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe.

Tim.If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more.

Alc.I neuer did thee harme.

Tim.Yes, thou spok'st well of me.

Alc.Call'st thou that harme?

Tim.Men dayly finde it. Get thee away,And take thy Beagles with thee.

Alc.Exeunt.We but offend him, strike.

Tim.That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesseShould yet be hungry: Common Mother, thouWhose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brestTeemes and feeds all: whose selfesame MettleWhereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft,Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew,The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme,With all th'abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen,Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine:Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate,From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote:Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe,Let it no more bring out ingratefull man.Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares,Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward faceHath to the Marbled Mansion all aboueNeuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes:Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas,Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughtsAnd Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde,That from it all Consideration slippes———Enter Apemantus.More man? Plague, plague.

Ape.I was directed hither. Men report,Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them.

Tim.'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a doggeWhom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee.

Ape.This is in thee a Nature but infected,A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprungFrom change of future. Why this Spade? this place?This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care?Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft,Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgotThat euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods,By putting on the cunning of a Carper.Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriueBy that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee,And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserueBlow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine,And call it excellent: thou wast told thus:Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom)To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iustThat thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe,Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse.

Tim.Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe.

Ape.Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy selfA Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'stThat the bleake ayre, thy boysterous ChamberlaineWill put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees,That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heelesAnd skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brookeCandied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning tasteTo cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures,Whose naked Natures liue in all the spightOf wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused TrunkesTo the conflicting Elements expos'dAnswer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee.O thou shalt finde.

Tim.A Foole of thee: depart.

Ape.I loue thee better now, then ere I did.

Tim.I hate thee worse.

Ape.Why?

Tim.Thou flatter'st misery.

Ape.I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe.

Tim.Why do'st thou seeke me out?

Ape.To vex thee.

Tim.Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles.Dost please thy selfe in't?

Ape.I.

Tim.What, a Knaue too?

Ape.If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit onTo castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thouDost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againeWert thou not Beggar: willing miseryOut-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before:The one is filling still, neuer compleat:The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse,Hath a distracted and most wretched being,Worse then the worst, Content.Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable.

Tim.Not by his breath, that is more miserable.Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender armeWith fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge.Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded,The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords,To such as may the passiue drugges of itFreely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy selfIn generall Riot, melted downe thy youthIn different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'dThe Icie precepts of respect, but followedThe Sugred game before thee. But my selfe,Who had the world as my Confectionarie,The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men,At duty more then I could frame employment;That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leauesDo on the Oake, haue with one Winters brushFell from their boughes, and left me open, bare,For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this,That neuer knew but better, is some burthen:Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, TimeHath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men?They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen?If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge)Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffeTo some shee-Begger, and compounded theePoore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men,Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer.

Ape.Art thou proud yet?

Tim.I, that I am not thee.

Ape.I, that I was no Prodigall.

Tim.I, that I am one now.Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee,I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone:That the whole life of Athens were in this,Thus would I eate it.

Ape.Heere, I will mend thy Feast.

Tim.First mend thy company, take away thy selfe.

Ape.So I shall mend mine owne, by'th'lacke of thine

Tim.'Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht;If not, I would it were.

Ape.What would'st thou haue to Athens?

Tim.Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt,Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue.

Ape.Heere is no vse for Gold.

Tim.The best, and truest:For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme.

Ape.Where lyest a nights Timon?

Tim.Vnder that's aboue me.Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?

Ape.Where my stomacke findes meate, or ratherwhere I eate it.

Tim.Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind

Ape.Where would'st thou send it?

Tim.To sawce thy dishes.

Ape.The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest,but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thyGilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too muchCuriositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art despis'dfor the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it.

Tim.On what I hate, I feed not.

Ape.Do'st hate a Medler?

Tim.I, though it looke like thee.

Ape.And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'sthaue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd'st thoueuer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes?

Tim.Who without those meanes thou talk'st of, didstthou euer know belou'd?

Ape.My selfe.

Tim.I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes tokeepe a Dogge.

Apem.What things in the world canst thou neerestcompare to thy Flatterers?

Tim.Women neerest, but men: men are the thingsthemselues. What would'st thou do with the worldApemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Ape.Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men.

Tim.Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusionof men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts.

Ape.I Timon.

Tim.A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes grauntthee t'attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox wouldbeguile thee: if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe wouldeate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspectthee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse:If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee;and still thou liu'dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. Ifthou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee,& oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wertthou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confoundthee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury.Wert thou a Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse:wert thou a Horse, thou would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard:wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to theLion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thylife. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defenceabsence. What Beast could'st thou bee, that were notsubiect to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already,that seest not thy losse in transformation.

Ape.If thou could'st please meWith speaking to me, thou might'stHaue hit vpon it heere.The Commonwealth of Athens, is becomeA Forrest of Beasts.

Tim.How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou artout of the Citie.

Ape.Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter:The plague of Company light vpon thee:I will feare to catch it, and giue way.When I know not what else to do,Ile see thee againe.

Tim.When there is nothing liuing but thee,Thou shalt be welcome.I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,Then Apemantus.

Ape.Thou art the CapOf all the Fooles aliue.

Tim.Would thou wert cleane enoughTo spit vpon.

Ape.A plague on thee,Thou art too bad to curse.

Tim.All VillainesThat do stand by thee, are pure.

Ape.There is no Leprosie,But what thou speak'st.

Tim.If I name thee, Ile beate thee;But I should infect my hands.

Ape.I would my tongueCould rot them off.

Tim.Away thou issue of a mangie dogge,Choller does kill me,That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee.

Ape.Would thou would'st burst.

Tim.Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shalllose a stone by thee.

Ape.Beast.

Tim.Slaue.

Ape.Toad.

Tim.Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.I am sicke of this false world, and will loue noughtBut euen the meere necessities vpon't:Then Timon presently prepare thy graue:Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beateThy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph,That death in me, at others liues may laugh.O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorceTwixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defilerOf Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars,Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer,Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated SnowThat lyes on Dians lap.Thou visible God,That souldrest close Impossibilities,And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie TongueTo euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts,Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy virtueSet them into confounding oddes, that BeastsMay haue the world in Empire.

Ape.Would 'twere so,But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold:Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly.

Tim.Throng'd too?

Ape.I.

Tim.Thy backe I prythee.

Ape.Liue, and loue thy misery.

Tim.Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit.

Ape.Mo things like men,Exit Apeman.Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Enter the Bandetti.

1Where should he haue this Gold? It is some pooreFragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meerewant of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, drouehim into this Melancholly.

2It is nois'dHe hath a masse of Treasure.

3Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't,he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, howshall's get it?

2True: for he beares it not about him:'Tis hid.

1Is not this hee?

All.Where?

2'Tis his description.

3He? I know him.

All.Saue thee Timon.

Tim.Now Theeues.

All.Soldiers, not Theeues.

Tim.Both too, and womens Sonnes.

All.We are not Theeues, but menThat much do want.

Tim.Your greatest want is, you want much of meat:Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes:Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs:The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps,The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush,Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want?

1We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water,As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes.

Ti.Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes,You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con,That you are Theeues profest: that you worke notIn holier shapes: For there is boundlesse TheftIn limited Professions. Rascall TheeuesHeere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th'Grape,Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth,And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian,His Ant [...]dotes are poyson, and he slayesMoe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together,Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo't.Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery:The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attractionRobbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe,And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne.The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resoluesThe Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe,That feeds and breeds by a composture stolneFrom gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe.The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough powerHa's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away,Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates,All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go,Breake open shoppes, nothing can you stealeBut Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you,And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen.

3Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswadingme to it.

1'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduisesvs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery.

2Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,And giue ouer my Trade.

1Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time soExit Theeues.miserable, but a man may be true.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew.Oh you Gods!Is yon'd despise'd and ruinous man my Lord?Full of decay and fayling? Oh MonumentAnd wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd!What an alteration of Honor has desp'rate want made?What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends,Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends.How rarely does it meete with this times guise,When man was wisht to loue his Enemies:Grant I may euer loue, and rather wooThose that would mischeefe me, then those that doo.Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefevnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life.My deerest Master.

Tim.Away: what art thou?

Stew.Haue you forgot me, Sir?

Tim.Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men.Then, if thou grunt'st, th'art a man.I haue forgot thee.

Stew.An honest poore seruant of yours.

Tim.Then I know thee not:I neuer had honest man about me, I allI kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines.

Stew.The Gods are witnesse,Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefeFor his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you.

Tim.What, dost thou weepe?Come neerer, then I loue theeBecause thou art a woman, and disclaim'stFlinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue,But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping:Strange times yt weepe with laughing, not with weeping.

Stew.I begge of you to know me, good my Lord,T'accept my greefe, and whil'st this poore wealth lasts,To entertaine me as your Steward still.

Tim.Had I a StewardSo true, so iust, and now so comfortable?It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde.Let me behold thy face: Surely, this manWas borne of woman.Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesseYou perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaimeOne honest man: Mistake me not, but one:No more I pray, and hee's a Steward.How faine would I haue hated all mankinde,And thou redeem'st thy selfe. But all saue thee,I fell with Curses.Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise:For, by oppressing and betraying mee,Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice:For many so arriue at second Masters,Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true,(For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure)Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts,Expecting in returne twenty for one?

Stew.No my most worthy Master, in whose brestDoubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late:You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast.Suspect still comes, where an estate is least.That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue,Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde;Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it,My most Honour'd Lord,For any benefit that points to mee,Either in hope, or present, I'de exchangeFor this one wish, that you had power and wealthTo requite me, by making rich your selfe.

Tim.Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man,Heere take: the Gods out of my miserieHa's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy,But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men:Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none,But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone,Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to doggesWhat thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em,Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woodsAnd may Diseases licke vp their false bloods,And so farewell, and thriue.

Stew.O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master.

Tim.If thou hat'st Cursesstay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free:Exit.Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee.