“Through a Glass, Darkly” By George S. Patton

“Through a Glass, Darkly”

By George S. Patton

Through the travail of the ages,

Midst the pomp and toil of war,

I have fought and strove and perished

Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people

In all panoplies of time

Have I seen the luring vision

Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have battled for fresh mammoth,

I have warred for pastures new,

I have listened to the whispers

When the race trek instinct grew.

I have known the call to battle

In each changeless changing shape

From the high souled voice of conscience

To the beastly lust for rape.

I have sinned and I have suffered,

Played the hero and the knave;

Fought for belly, shame, or country,

And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles

For the visions are not clear,

Yet, I see the twisted faces

And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our Savior

In His sacred helpless side.

Yet, I’ve called His name in blessing

When in after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows

Where we hairy heathens warred,

I can taste in thought the lifeblood;

We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision

I can sense the coppery sweat,

Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery

When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.

Hear the rattle of the harness

Where the Persian darts bounced clear,

See their chariots wheel in panic

From the Hoplite’s leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer,

Reaching for the walls of Tyre.

Hear the crash of tons of granite,

Smell the quenchless eastern fire.

Still more clearly as a Roman,

Can I see the Legion close,

As our third rank moved in forward

And the short sword found our foes.

Once again I feel the anguish

Of that blistering treeless plain

When the Parthian showered death bolts,

And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering

Of those arrows in my neck.

Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage

As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks

When my Flemish plate gave way

And the lance ripped through my entrails

As on Crecy’s field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness

Of the glittering tropic sea

I can see the bubbles rising

Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest

I have heard the bulwarks go

When the crashing, point blank round shot

Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with gun and cutlass

On the red and slippery deck

With all Hell aflame within me

And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General

Have I galloped with Murat

When we laughed at death and numbers

Trusting in the Emperor’s Star.

Till at last our star faded,

And we shouted to our doom

Where the sunken road of Ohein

Closed us in its quivering gloom.

So but now with Tanks a’clatter

Have I waddled on the foe

Belching death at twenty paces,

By the star shell’s ghastly glow.

So as through a glass, and darkly

The age long strife I see

Where I fought in many guises,

Many names, but always me.

And I see not in my blindness

What the objects were I wrought,

But as God rules o’er our bickerings

It was through His will I fought.

So forever in the future,

Shall I battle as of yore,

Dying to be born a fighter,

But to die again, once more.

Death by Drowning

Under Church Law, 

Death by Drowning 

cannot be considered Suicide.

“Iain, I’ve got a great idea —

Let’s KILL The fuckin’ Audience!!”

ACT V.

SCENE I. A churchyard.

Enter two Clowns, with spades, 

First Clown

Is she to be buried in Christian burial that

wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Second Clown

I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave

straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it

Christian burial.

First Clown

How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her

own defence?

Second Clown

Why, 'tis found so.

First Clown

It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For

here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly,

it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it

is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned

herself wittingly.

Second Clown

Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,--

First Clown

Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here

stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,

and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he

goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him

and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he

that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Second Clown

But is this law?

First Clown

Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Second Clown

Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been

a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'

Christian burial.

First Clown

Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that

great folk should have countenance in this world to

drown or hang themselves, more than their even

Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient

gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:

they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown

Was he a gentleman?

First Clown

He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown

Why, he had none.

First Clown

What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the

Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:'

could he dig without arms? I'll put another

question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the

purpose, confess thyself--

Second Clown

Go to.

First Clown

What is he that builds stronger than either the

mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

Second Clown

The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a

thousand tenants.

First Clown

I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows

does well; but how does it well? it does well to

those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the

gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,

the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

Second Clown

'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or

a carpenter?'

First Clown

Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

Second Clown

Marry, now I can tell.

First Clown

To't.

Second Clown

Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance

First Clown

Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull

ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when

you are asked this question next, say 'a

grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till

doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a

stoup of liquor.

Exit Second Clown

He digs and sings

In youth, when I did love, did love,

Methought it was very sweet,

To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,

O, methought, there was nothing meet.

HAMLET

Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he

sings at grave-making?

HORATIO

Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

HAMLET

'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath

the daintier sense.

First Clown

[Sings]

But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath claw'd me in his clutch,

And hath shipped me intil the land,

As if I had never been such.

Throws up a skull

HAMLET

That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:

how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were

Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It

might be the pate of a politician, which this ass

now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,

might it not?

HORATIO

It might, my lord.

HAMLET

Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,

sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might

be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord

such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

HORATIO

Ay, my lord.

HAMLET

Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and

knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:

here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to

see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,

but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clown

[Sings]

A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,

For and a shrouding sheet:

O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.

Throws up another skull

HAMLET

There's another: why may not that be the skull of a

lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,

his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he

suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the

sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of

his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be

in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,

his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,

his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and

the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine

pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him

no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than

the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The

very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in

this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

HORATIO

Not a jot more, my lord.

HAMLET

Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

HORATIO

Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

HAMLET

They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance

in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose

grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown

Mine, sir.

Sings

O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.

HAMLET

I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

First Clown

You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not

yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

HAMLET

'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:

'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

First Clown

'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to

you.

HAMLET

What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clown

For no man, sir.

HAMLET

What woman, then?

First Clown

For none, neither.

HAMLET

Who is to be buried in't?

First Clown

One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAMLET

How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the

card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,

Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of

it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the

peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he

gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a

grave-maker?

First Clown

Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day

that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAMLET

How long is that since?

First Clown

Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it

was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that

is mad, and sent into England.

HAMLET

Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clown

Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits

there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

HAMLET

Why?

First Clown

'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men

are as mad as he.

HAMLET

How came he mad?

First Clown

Very strangely, they say.

HAMLET

How strangely?

First Clown

Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

HAMLET

Upon what ground?

First Clown

Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man

and boy, thirty years.

HAMLET

How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

First Clown

I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we

have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce

hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year

or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

HAMLET

Why he more than another?

First Clown

Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that

he will keep out water a great while; and your water

is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.

Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth

three and twenty years.

HAMLET

Whose was it?

First Clown

A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?

HAMLET

Nay, I know not.

First Clown

A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a

flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull,

sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

HAMLET

This?

First Clown

E'en that.

HAMLET

Let me see.

Takes the skull

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow

of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath

borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how

abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at

it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know

not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your

gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,

that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one

now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?

Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let

her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must

come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell

me one thing.

HORATIO

What's that, my lord?

HAMLET

Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'

the earth?

HORATIO

E'en so.

HAMLET

And smelt so? pah!

Puts down the skull

HORATIO

E'en so, my lord.

HAMLET

To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may

not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,

till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

HORATIO

'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

HAMLET

No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with

modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as

thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,

Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of

earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he

was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:

O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!

But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.

Enter Priest, & c. in procession; the Corpse of OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, & c

The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow?

And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken

The corse they follow did with desperate hand

Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.

Couch we awhile, and mark.

Retiring with HORATIO

LAERTES

What ceremony else?

HAMLET

That is Laertes,

A very noble youth: mark.

LAERTES

What ceremony else?

First Priest

Her obsequies have been as far enlarged

As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;

And, but that great command o'ersways the order,

She should in ground unsanctified have lodged

Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,

Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her;

Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,

Her maiden strewments and the bringing home

Of bell and burial.

LAERTES

Must there no more be done?

First Priest

No more be done:

We should profane the service of the dead

To sing a requiem and such rest to her

As to peace-parted souls.

LAERTES

Lay her i' the earth:

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,

A ministering angel shall my sister be,

When thou liest howling.

HAMLET

What, the fair Ophelia!

QUEEN GERTRUDE

Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

Scattering flowers

I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,

And not have strew'd thy grave.

LAERTES

O, treble woe

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,

Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense

Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,

Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

Leaps into the grave

Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,

Till of this flat a mountain you have made,

To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head

Of blue Olympus.

HAMLET

[Advancing] What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow

Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand

Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,

Hamlet the Dane.

Leaps into the grave

LAERTES

The devil take thy soul!

Grappling with him

HAMLET

Thou pray'st not well.

I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;

For, though I am not splenitive and rash,

Yet have I something in me dangerous,

Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

KING CLAUDIUS

Pluck them asunder.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

Hamlet, Hamlet!

All

Gentlemen,--

HORATIO

Good my lord, be quiet.

The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave

HAMLET

Why I will fight with him upon this theme

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

O my son, what theme?

HAMLET

I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers

Could not, with all their quantity of love,

Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

KING CLAUDIUS

O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

For love of God, forbear him.

HAMLET

'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:

Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?

Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?

I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with her, and so will I:

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw

Millions of acres on us, till our ground,

Singeing his pate against the burning zone,

Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,

I'll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

This is mere madness:

And thus awhile the fit will work on him;

Anon, as patient as the female dove,

When that her golden couplets are disclosed,

His silence will sit drooping.

HAMLET

Hear you, sir;

What is the reason that you use me thus?

I loved you ever: but it is no matter;

Let Hercules himself do what he may,

The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

Exit

KING CLAUDIUS

I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.

Exit HORATIO

To LAERTES

Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;

We'll put the matter to the present push.

Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.

This grave shall have a living monument:

An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

Exeunt

Never Hate Your Enemies -- Even You Father.

Mr. Corleone, all Bastards are Liars. 

Shakespeare wrote poems about it.

Michael, you know Vincent Mancini -- 

Sonny’s Boy.

 

 

PLUTARCH'S MORALS.

ON EDUCATION.

§ i. Come let us consider what one might say on the education of free children, and by what training they would become good citizens.

§ ii. It is perhaps best to begin with birth: I would therefore warn those who desire to be fathers of notable sons, not to form connections with any kind of women, such as courtesans or mistresses: for those who either on the father or mother's side are ill-born have the disgrace of their origin all their life long irretrievably present with them, and offer a ready handle to abuse and vituperation. So that the poet was wise, who said, "Unless the foundation of a house be well laid, the descendants must of necessity be unfortunate."  

Good birth indeed brings with it a store of assurance, which ought to be greatly valued by all who desire legitimate offspring. For the spirit of those who are a spurious and bastard breed is apt to be mean and abject: for as the poet truly says, "It makes a man even of noble spirit servile, when he is conscious of the ill fame of either his father or mother." 

On the other hand the sons of illustrious parents are full of Pride and arrogance. As an instance of this it is recorded of Diophantus, the son of Themistocles, that he often used to say to various people "that he could do what he pleased with the Athenian people, for what he wished his mother wished, and what she wished Themistocles wished, and what Themistocles wished all the Athenians wished." 

All praise also ought we to bestow on the Lacedæmonians for their loftiness of soul in fining their King Archidamus for venturing to marry a small woman, for they charged him with intending to furnish them not with Kings but Kinglets.

§ iii. Next must we mention, what was not overlooked even by those who handled this subject before us, that those who approach their wives for procreation must do so either without having drunk any wine or at least very little. For those children, that their parents begot in drink, are wont to be fond of wine and apt to turn out drunkards. And so Diogenes, seeing a youth out of his mind and crazy, said, "Young man, your father was drunk when he begot you." 

 Let this hint serve as to Procreation: now let us discuss Education.

 

 

  

 

 

 

CUT TO: A helicopter carrying Michael and Vincent. They are traveling to the meeting that Don Altobello had arranged at Michael's request.

VINCENT

I'd like to take Joey Zasa up for a ride in this and drop him.

MICHAEL

Joey Zasa is nothing. He's a small time enforcer – Mobs, threats, nothing. We'll be able to see him coming, a mile away.

VINCENT

We should kill him before he kills --

MICHAEL

No!

(then)

Never Hate Your Enemies. It affects your Judgment.

CUT TO: Outside an Atlantic City casino where the Commission meeting is to take place, as set up by Don Altobello on Michael’s request. The Text Over reads: Atlantic City, New Jersey.

<Michael and Vincent are welcomed ["Nice to see you again, Mr. Corleone. Mr. Mancini."].

CUT TO: Suite where Commission meeting is to be held.

<A band is playing and women are milling about the busy room full of Dons. Joey Zasa enters and Michael and Vincent enter shortly after. On Michael's arrival the band stops playing and the women are ushered from the room. Vincent nods at Joey Zasa. Once the room is cleared of all but those at the meeting, Don Altobello begins proceedings.>

DON ALTOBELLO (addressing Michael to the Commission)

We entrusted you to manage our money in the casinos. It's not even, twenty years. You sold the casinos, and you made fortunes for all of us. Bravo Don Corleone!

<The room applauds Michael. Joey Zasa gives a half-hearted clap.>

MICHAEL

Thank you. Friends, I have come here, because, our business together is done. We have prospered, and now it is time for us, to dissolve, the business relationship between us.

<There are murmurs of protest.>

MICHAEL

That's it. But I do have a little surprise

(then, to Neri)

Al?

<Al removes a bundle of envelopes from his jacket.>

MICHAEL

Your shares, in the casinos. I thought I'd cut through all the red tape so you can get your money right away.

<This news is met with a more positive response.>

A DON

Fifty million dollars!

<Vincent is passing out envelopes.>

MICHAEL

Not everyone gets the same…

VINCENT (whispering into Joey Zasa’s ear)

Nothing for you…

MICHAEL

…It depends how much you invested, and how long for.

<The Dons all marvel at how much they have just received, "Wonderful! Woah! Grazie!">

A DON

Michael, this is really generous!

A DON

Hey, Perisi, how much did you invest?

DON PERISI (putting his envelope in his jacket pocket)

I don’t remember…

DON ALTOBELLO

Michael, you're blessed.

<Joey Zasa has heard enough.>

ZASA

My family has done much of the hard work; taken many risks. All to make money, for the rest of the families.

MICHAEL

You all know Joey Zasa. He is, I admit, an important man. His picture is on the cover of the New York Times magazine. He gets the Esquire magazine award, for the best-dressed gangster! The newspapers praise him, because, he hires Blacks into his family, which shows he has a good heart. He, is famous. Who knows? Maybe one day, he will make all of you, popular.

ZASA

It's true. I make more of a, bella figura, that is my nature. But I also want to make a move into, legitimate enterprises. I'd like to get a little pin from the Pope. Sure, I take the Blacks and the Spanish into my family, because, that's America.

MICHAEL

And you guarantee, they don't deal drugs in those neighborhoods.

ZASA

I don't guarantee that. I guarantee I'll kill anybody who does.

DON ALTOBELLO

Let me talk to him, let me talk to him.

MICHAEL

Who can refuse, Don Altobello…

<The Dons are passing around a tray full of gold jewelry and pearls, and each take one.>

DON ALTOBELLO

Joey...

JOEY (interrupts)

NO! I say to all of you, I have been treated this day, with no respect. I've earned you all money. I've made you rich, and I asked for little. Good. You will not give, I'll take! As for Don, Corleone, well he makes it, very clear to me today, that he is my enemy. You must choose between us.

<Joey storms out. Don Altobello chases after him.>

ALTOBELLO

Hey Joey – no – Joey – no – Joey …

(then, to Michael)

We can reason together – no – Michael, Michael – please, let’s agreed, huh?

MICHAEL

No, Altobello…

<Altobello exists the room>

PERISI

Uh, Michael, Michael. The news is everywhere. Everyone is saying that, you control Immobiliare.

<The Dons begin talking at once.>

A DON

Immobiliare already is laundering money in Peru, in Nassau, we know that…

A DON

Listen to me, Michael…

A DON

Michael, why shouldn’t…

A DON

We should wet our beaks a little…

A DON

We want to do business with you, Michael – we’ve been together for many…

A DON

We could wash our money clean … with holy water…

<Michael stays silent as everyone talks to him, but the talking suddenly stops as a rumbling noise is heard and the room starts to shake. Vincent reacts first.>

VINCENT (to Michael): It’s a hit -- Let's go.

<The meeting disbands and everyone leaps up to leave. "Let’s get outta here!" On the outside of the room, someone snaps a pair of handcuffs over the doorknobs, locking the Dons in the room. A helicopter appears overhead and machine gun fire rips through the glass ceiling of the room. Vincent protects Michael as a massacre ensues.>

VOICE (to a Don)

Forget your coat!

A DON (trying to retrieve his coat before being riddled with bullets)

It’s my lucky coat! It’s my lucky coat!

<Al Neri retrieves a shotgun from behind the bar and blasts a door open.>

AL NERI

Mikey, this way!

<Michael and Vincent escape through this door.>

A DON (laying, bleeding, on the floor)

Zasa! You son of a bitch!

Vincent breaks into a car and opens the door for Michael.

VINCENT

Come on. We're outta here.

<Vincent and Michael escape as we see shots of the remains of the room, and of the bodies that fill it.>
 

 

 

 

SCENE I. King Lear's palace.

    Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND

KENT

    I thought the king had more affected the Duke of
    Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER

    It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
    division of the kingdom, it appears not which of
    the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
    weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice
    of either's moiety.

KENT

    Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER

    His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
    so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
    brazed to it.

KENT

    I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER

    Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
    she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
    for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
    Do you smell a fault?

KENT

    I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
    being so proper.

GLOUCESTER

    But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year
    elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
    though this knave came something saucily into the
    world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
    fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
    whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this
    noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND

    No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

    My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
    honourable friend.

EDMUND

    My services to your lordship.

KENT

    I must love you, and sue to know you better.

EDMUND

    Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER

    He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
    again. The King is coming.


    Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants

KING LEAR

    Attend The Lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

    I shall, My Liege.

    Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND -- The Bastard Goes WITH Him.




SCENE II. The Earl of Gloucester's castle.

    Enter EDMUND, with a letter

EDMUND

    Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
    My services are bound. Wherefore should I
    Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
    The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
    For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
    Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
    When my dimensions are as well compact,
    My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
    As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
    With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
    Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
    More composition and fierce quality
    Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
    Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
    Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
    Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
    Our Father's love is to the bastard Edmund
    As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
    Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
    And my invention thrive, Edmund The Base
    Shall top The Legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
    Now, Gods, Stand Up for Bastards!

    Enter GLOUCESTER

King John receives an ambassador from France who demands with a threat of war that he renounce his throne in favour of his nephew, Arthur, whom the French King Philip believes to be the rightful heir to the throne.

John adjudicates an inheritance dispute between Robert Faulconbridge and his older brother Philip the Bastard, during which it becomes apparent that Philip is the illegitimate son of King Richard I. Queen Eleanor, mother to both Richard and John, recognises the family resemblance and suggests that he renounce his claim to the Faulconbridge land in exchange for a knighthood. 

John Knights Philip The Bastard under the name Richard.

A 19th century drawing by Thomas Nast

In France, King Philip and his forces besiege the English-ruled town of Angers, threatening attack unless its citizens support Arthur. Philip is supported by Austria, who is believed to have killed King Richard. The English contingent arrives; and then Eleanor trades insults with Constance, Arthur’s mother. Kings Philip and John stake their claims in front of Angers’ citizens, but to no avail: their representative says that they will support the rightful king, whoever that turns out to be.

The French and English armies clash, but no clear victor emerges. Each army dispatches a herald claiming victory, but Angers’ citizens continue to refuse to recognize either claimant because neither army has proven victorious.

The Bastard proposes that England and France unite to punish the rebellious citizens of Angers, at which point the citizens propose an alternative: Philip’s son, Louis the Dauphin, should marry John’s niece Blanche (a scheme that gives John a stronger claim to the throne) while Louis gains territory for France. Though a furious Constance accuses Philip of abandoning Arthur, Louis and Blanche are married.

Cardinal Pandolf arrives from Rome bearing a formal accusation that John has disobeyed the Pope and appointed an archbishop contrary to his desires. John refuses to recant, whereupon he is excommunicated. Pandolf pledges his support for Louis, though Philip is hesitant, having just established family ties with John. Pandolf brings him round by pointing out that his links to the church are older and firmer.

War breaks out; Austria is beheaded by the Bastard in revenge for his father’s death; and both Angers and Arthur are captured by the English. Eleanor is left in charge of English possessions in France, while the Bastard is sent to collect funds from English monasteries. John orders Hubert to kill Arthur. Pandolf suggests to Louis that he now has as strong a claim to the English throne as Arthur (and indeed John), and Louis agrees to invade England.

A Lithograph depicting Act III Scene I

Hubert finds himself unable to kill Arthur. John’s nobles urge Arthur’s release. John agrees, but is wrong-footed by Hubert’s announcement that Arthur is dead. The nobles, believing he was murdered, defect to Louis’ side. Equally upsetting, and more heartbreaking to John, is the news of his mother’s death, along with that of Lady Constance. The Bastard reports that the monasteries are unhappy about John’s attempt to seize their gold. Hubert has a furious argument with John, during which he reveals that Arthur is still alive. John, delighted, sends him to report the news to the nobles.

Arthur dies jumping from a castle wall. 

(It is open to interpretation whether he deliberately kills himself or just makes a risky escape attempt.) 

The nobles believe he was murdered by John, and refuse to believe Hubert’s entreaties. John attempts to make a deal with Pandolf, swearing allegiance to the Pope in exchange for Pandolf’s negotiating with the French on his behalf. John orders the Bastard, one of his few remaining loyal subjects, to lead the English army against France.

While John’s former noblemen swear allegiance to Louis, Pandolf explains John’s scheme, but Louis refuses to be taken in by it. The Bastard arrives with the English army and threatens Louis, but to no avail. War breaks out with substantial losses on each side, including Louis’ reinforcements, who are drowned during the sea crossing. Many English nobles return to John’s side after a dying French nobleman, Melun, warns them that Louis plans to kill them after his victory.

John is poisoned by a disgruntled monk. His nobles gather around him as he dies. 

The Bastard plans the final assault on Louis’ forces, until he is told that Pandolf has arrived with a peace treaty. The English nobles swear allegiance to John’s son Prince Henry, and the Bastard reflects that this episode has taught that internal bickering could be as perilous to England’s fortunes as foreign invasion.

SPORT

KENT

Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER

His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have

so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am

brazed to it.

KENT

I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER

Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon

she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son

for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.

Do you smell a fault?

KENT

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it

being so proper.

GLOUCESTER

But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year

elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:

though this knave came something saucily into the

world before he was sent for, yet was his mother

fair; there was good sport at his making, and the

whoreson must be acknowledged

Bruce Wayne: 

Targetting me won't get their money back.

I knew the mob won't go down without a fight, but this is different. 

They've crossed the line.

Alfred Pennyworth: 

You've crossed the line first, sir. 

You squeezed them, you hammered to the point of desperation. 

And in their desperation, they turned to a man they didn't fully understand.

Bruce Wayne: 

Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. 

We just need to figure out what he's after.

Alfred Pennyworth: 

With respect, Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either. 

A long time ago, I was in Burma. 

My friends and I were working for the local government.

 

They'd been trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. 

But their caravans were being raided in the forests north of Rangoon by a bandit. 

So we went looking for the stones. 

But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him.

 

One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. 

The bandit had been throwing them away.

Bruce Wayne: 

So why steal them?

Alfred Pennyworth: 

Oh, because he thought it was good sport. 

Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. 

They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. 

Some men just want to watch the world burn.

[Later, as the two discuss Rachel's death]

Bruce Wayne:

That bandit, in the forest in Burma - did you catch him?

Alfred Pennyworth:

Yes.

Bruce Wayne:

How?

Alfred Pennyworth:

We burned the forest down.

SKYWALKER

The genius of an artist, Aristotle says, lies in his texne, the root from which we get our word "technology"; but texne basically means skill or craft, or the ability to make things that never existed before. Negative Entropy, i.e., in-form-ation . . .

The musician and the architect, the poet and the physicist -- all inventors of new realities -- all such Creators may be best considered late evolutionary developments of the type that first appears as the shaman. Please remember that shamans in most cultures are known as "they who walk in the sky," just like our current shaman-hero, Luke Rey Skywalker . . .

SCENE III. Woods and cave, near the seashore.

Enter TIMON, from the cave

O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth

Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb

Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes;

The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,

But by contempt of nature.

Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;

The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

In purity of manhood stand upright,

And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,

So are they all; for every grise of fortune

Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate

Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique;

There's nothing level in our cursed natures,

But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd

All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!

His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:

Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!

Digging

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate

With thy most operant poison! What is here?

Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,

I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,

Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.

Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,

Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:

This yellow slave

Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,

Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves

And give them title, knee and approbation

With senators on the bench: this is it

That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;

She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores

Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices

To the April day again. Come, damned earth,

Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds

Among the route of nations, I will make thee

Do thy right nature.

March afar off

Ha! a drum ? Thou'rt quick,

But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,

When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.

Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

Keeping some gold

Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

ALCIBIADES

What art thou there? speak.

TIMON

A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,

For showing me again the eyes of man!

ALCIBIADES

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,

That art thyself a man?

TIMON

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

ALCIBIADES

I know thee well;

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

TIMON

I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:

Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;

Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,

For all her cherubim look.

PHRYNIA

Thy lips rot off!

TIMON

I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns

To thine own lips again.

ALCIBIADES

How came the noble Timon to this change?

TIMON

As the moon does, by wanting light to give:

But then renew I could not, like the moon;

There were no suns to borrow of.

ALCIBIADES

Noble Timon,

What friendship may I do thee?

TIMON

None, but to

Maintain my opinion.

ALCIBIADES

What is it, Timon?

TIMON

Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou

wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art

a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for

thou art a man!

ALCIBIADES

I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

TIMON

Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.

ALCIBIADES

I see them now; then was a blessed time.

TIMON

As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

TIMANDRA

Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world

Voiced so regardfully?

TIMON

Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA

Yes.

TIMON

Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee;

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.

Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves

For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth

To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA

Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES

Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits

Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.

I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,

The want whereof doth daily make revolt

In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,

How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,

Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,

But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--

TIMON

I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

ALCIBIADES

I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

TIMON

How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?

I had rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES

Why, fare thee well:

Here is some gold for thee.

TIMON

Keep it, I cannot eat it.

ALCIBIADES

When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--

TIMON

Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

ALCIBIADES

Ay, Timon, and have cause.

TIMON

The gods confound them all in thy conquest;

And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

ALCIBIADES

Why me, Timon?

TIMON

That, by killing of villains,

Thou wast born to conquer my country.

Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;

Be as a planetary plague, when Jove

Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison

In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:

Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;

He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;

It is her habit only that is honest,

Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek

Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,

That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,

Are not within the leaf of pity writ,

But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,

Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;

Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,

And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;

Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;

Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,

Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,

Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:

Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,

Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

ALCIBIADES

Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou

givest me,

Not all thy counsel.

TIMON

Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse

upon thee!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?

TIMON

Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,

And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,

Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,

Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear

Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues

The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths,

I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;

And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,

Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;

Let your close fire predominate his smoke,

And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months,

Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs

With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,

No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;

Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,

A pox of wrinkles!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

Well, more gold: what then?

Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.

TIMON

Consumptions sow

In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,

And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,

That he may never more false title plead,

Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,

That scolds against the quality of flesh,

And not believes himself: down with the nose,

Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away

Of him that, his particular to foresee,

Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate

ruffians bald;

And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war

Derive some pain from you: plague all;

That your activity may defeat and quell

The source of all erection. There's more gold:

Do you damn others, and let this damn you,

And ditches grave you all!

PHRYNIA TIMANDRA

More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

TIMON

More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

ALCIBIADES

Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:

If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

TIMON

If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

ALCIBIADES

I never did thee harm.

TIMON

Yes, thou spokest well of me.

ALCIBIADES

Call'st thou that harm?

TIMON

Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take

Thy beagles with thee.

ALCIBIADES

We but offend him. Strike!

Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA

TIMON

That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,

Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,

Digging

Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,

Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,

Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,

Engenders the black toad and adder blue,

The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,

With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven

Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;

Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,

From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!

Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,

Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!

Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;

Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face

Hath to the marbled mansion all above

Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--

Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;

Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts

And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,

That from it all consideration slips!

Enter APEMANTUS

More man? plague, plague!

APEMANTUS

I was directed hither: men report

Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.

TIMON

'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,

Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!

APEMANTUS

This is in thee a nature but infected;

A poor unmanly melancholy sprung

From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?

This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?

Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;

Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot

That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,

By putting on the cunning of a carper.

Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive

By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,

And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,

Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,

And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;

Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome

To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just

That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,

Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.

TIMON

Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.

APEMANTUS

Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;

A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st

That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,

Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,

That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,

And skip where thou point'st out? will the

cold brook,

Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,

To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures

Whose naked natures live in an the spite

Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,

To the conflicting elements exposed,

Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;

O, thou shalt find--

TIMON

A fool of thee: depart.

APEMANTUS

I love thee better now than e'er I did.

TIMON

I hate thee worse.

APEMANTUS

Why?

TIMON

Thou flatter'st misery.

APEMANTUS

I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.

TIMON

Why dost thou seek me out?

APEMANTUS

To vex thee.

TIMON

Always a villain's office or a fool's.

Dost please thyself in't?

APEMANTUS

Ay.

TIMON

What! a knave too?

APEMANTUS

If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on

To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou

Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,

Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery

Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:

The one is filling still, never complete;

The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,

Hath a distracted and most wretched being,

Worse than the worst, content.

Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

TIMON

Not by his breath that is more miserable.

Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm

With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.

Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded

The sweet degrees that this brief world affords

To such as may the passive drugs of it

Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself

In general riot; melted down thy youth

In different beds of lust; and never learn'd

The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd

The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,

Who had the world as my confectionary,

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men

At duty, more than I could frame employment,

That numberless upon me stuck as leaves

Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush

Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare

For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,

That never knew but better, is some burden:

Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time

Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?

They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?

If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,

Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff

To some she beggar and compounded thee

Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!

If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,

Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

APEMANTUS

Art thou proud yet?

TIMON

Ay, that I am not thee.

APEMANTUS

I, that I was

No prodigal.

TIMON

I, that I am one now:

Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,

I'ld give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.

That the whole life of Athens were in this!

Thus would I eat it.

Eating a root

APEMANTUS

Here; I will mend thy feast.

Offering him a root

TIMON

First mend my company, take away thyself.

APEMANTUS

So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

TIMON

'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;

if not, I would it were.

APEMANTUS

What wouldst thou have to Athens?

TIMON

Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.

APEMANTUS

Here is no use for gold.

TIMON

The best and truest;

For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

APEMANTUS

Where liest o' nights, Timon?

TIMON

Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS

Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat

it.

TIMON

Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!

APEMANTUS

Where wouldst thou send it?

TIMON

To sauce thy dishes.

APEMANTUS

The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the

extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt

and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much

curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art

despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for

thee, eat it.

TIMON

On what I hate I feed not.

APEMANTUS

Dost hate a medlar?

TIMON

Ay, though it look like thee.

APEMANTUS

An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst

have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou

ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?

TIMON

Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou

ever know beloved?

APEMANTUS

Myself.

TIMON

I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a

dog.

APEMANTUS

What things in the world canst thou nearest compare

to thy flatterers?

TIMON

Women nearest; but men, men are the things

themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,

Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

APEMANTUS

Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

TIMON

Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of

men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

APEMANTUS

Ay, Timon.

TIMON

A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'

attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would

beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would

eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would

suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by

the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would

torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a

breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy

greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst

hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the

unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and

make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert

thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:

wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the

leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to

the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on

thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy

defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that

were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art

thou already, that seest not thy loss in

transformation!

APEMANTUS

If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou

mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of

Athens is become a forest of beasts.

TIMON

How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

APEMANTUS

Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of

company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it

and give way: when I know not what else to do, I'll

see thee again.

TIMON

When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be

welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.

APEMANTUS

Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

TIMON

Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

APEMANTUS

A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.

TIMON

All villains that do stand by thee are pure.

APEMANTUS

There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.

TIMON

If I name thee.

I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

APEMANTUS

I would my tongue could rot them off!

TIMON

Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!

Choler does kill me that thou art alive;

I swound to see thee.

APEMANTUS

Would thou wouldst burst!

TIMON

Away,

Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose

A stone by thee.

Throws a stone at him

APEMANTUS

Beast!

TIMON

Slave!

APEMANTUS

Toad!

TIMON

Rogue, rogue, rogue!

I am sick of this false world, and will love nought

But even the mere necessities upon 't.

Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;

Lie where the light foam the sea may beat

Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,

That death in me at others' lives may laugh.

To the gold

O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler

Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!

Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,

Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,

That solder'st close impossibilities,

And makest them kiss! that speak'st with

every tongue,

To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!

Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue

Set them into confounding odds, that beasts

May have the world in empire!

APEMANTUS

Would 'twere so!

But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold:

Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.

TIMON

Throng'd to!

APEMANTUS

Ay.

TIMON

Thy back, I prithee.

APEMANTUS

Live, and love thy misery.

TIMON

Long live so, and so die.

Exit APEMANTUS

I am quit.

Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

Enter Banditti

First Bandit

Where should he have this gold? It is some poor

fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the

mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his

friends, drove him into this melancholy.

Second Bandit

It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.

Third Bandit

Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not

for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously

reserve it, how shall's get it?

Second Bandit

True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.

First Bandit

Is not this he?

Banditti

Where?

Second Bandit

'Tis his description.

Third Bandit

He; I know him.

Banditti

Save thee, Timon.

TIMON

Now, thieves?

Banditti

Soldiers, not thieves.

TIMON

Both too; and women's sons.

Banditti

We are not thieves, but men that much do want.

TIMON

Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.

Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;

Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;

The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;

The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush

Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?

First Bandit

We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,

As beasts and birds and fishes.

TIMON

Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con

That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not

In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft

In limited professions. Rascal thieves,

Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape,

Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,

And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;

His antidotes are poison, and he slays

Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;

Do villany, do, since you protest to do't,

Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery.

The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction

Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,

And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:

The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves

The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,

That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen

From general excrement: each thing's a thief:

The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power

Have uncheque'd theft. Love not yourselves: away,

Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats:

All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,

Break open shops; nothing can you steal,

But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this

I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.

Third Bandit

Has almost charmed me from my profession, by

persuading me to it.

First Bandit

'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises

us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

Second Bandit

I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

First Bandit

Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time

so miserable but a man may be true.

Exeunt Banditti

Enter FLAVIUS

FLAVIUS

O you gods!

Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?

Full of decay and failing? O monument

And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!

What an alteration of honour

Has desperate want made!

What viler thing upon the earth than friends

Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!

How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,

When man was wish'd to love his enemies!

Grant I may ever love, and rather woo

Those that would mischief me than those that do!

Has caught me in his eye: I will present

My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,

Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

TIMON

Away! what art thou?

FLAVIUS

Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON

Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;

Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS

An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON

Then I know thee not:

I never had honest man about me, I; all

I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS

The gods are witness,

Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief

For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON

What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I

love thee,

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st

Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give

But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping:

Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

FLAVIUS

I beg of you to know me, good my lord,

To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts

To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON

Had I a steward

So true, so just, and now so comfortable?

It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.

Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man

Was born of woman.

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,

You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim

One honest man--mistake me not--but one;

No more, I pray,--and he's a steward.

How fain would I have hated all mankind!

And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,

I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;

For, by oppressing and betraying me,

Thou mightst have sooner got another service:

For many so arrive at second masters,

Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true--

For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure--

Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,

If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,

Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS

No, my most worthy master; in whose breast

Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:

You should have fear'd false times when you did feast:

Suspect still comes where an estate is least.

That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,

Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,

Care of your food and living; and, believe it,

My most honour'd lord,

For any benefit that points to me,

Either in hope or present, I'ld exchange

For this one wish, that you had power and wealth

To requite me, by making rich yourself.

TIMON

Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,

Here, take: the gods out of my misery

Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;

But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men;

Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,

But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,

Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs

What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,

Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like

blasted woods,

And may diseases lick up their false bloods!

And so farewell and thrive.

FLAVIUS

O, let me stay,

And comfort you, my master.

TIMON

If thou hatest curses,

Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:

Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

Exit FLAVIUS. TIMON retires to his cave

SCENE I. The woods. Before Timon's cave.

Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching them from his cave

Painter

As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where

he abides.

Poet

What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold

for true, that he's so full of gold?

Painter

Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and

Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor

straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said

he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

Poet

Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Painter

Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens

again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore

'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this

supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in

us; and is very likely to load our purposes with

what they travail for, if it be a just true report

that goes of his having.

Poet

What have you now to present unto him?

Painter

Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will

promise him an excellent piece.

Poet

I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent

that's coming toward him.

Painter

Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the

time: it opens the eyes of expectation:

performance is ever the duller for his act; and,

but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the

deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is

most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind

of will or testament which argues a great sickness

in his judgment that makes it.

TIMON comes from his cave, behind

TIMON

[Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a

man so bad as is thyself.

Poet

I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for

him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire

against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery

of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

TIMON

[Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in

thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in

other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet

Nay, let's seek him:

Then do we sin against our own estate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Painter

True;

When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,

Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON

[Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a

god's gold,

That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple

Than where swine feed!

'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,

Settlest admired reverence in a slave:

To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye

Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey!

Fit I meet them.

Coming forward

Poet

Hail, worthy Timon!

Painter

Our late noble master!

TIMON

Have I once lived to see two honest men?

Poet

Sir,

Having often of your open bounty tasted,

Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off,

Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--

Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:

What! to you,

Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence

To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover

The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude

With any size of words.

TIMON

Let it go naked, men may see't the better:

You that are honest, by being what you are,

Make them best seen and known.

Painter

He and myself

Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,

And sweetly felt it.

TIMON

Ay, you are honest men.

Painter

We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON

Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?

Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.

Both

What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.

TIMON

Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;

I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter

So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore

Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON

Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit

Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best;

Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Painter

So, so, my lord.

TIMON

E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,

Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth

That thou art even natural in thine art.

But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,

I must needs say you have a little fault:

Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I

You take much pains to mend.

Both

Beseech your honour

To make it known to us.

TIMON

You'll take it ill.

Both

Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON

Will you, indeed?

Both

Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON

There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,

That mightily deceives you.

Both

Do we, my lord?

TIMON

Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,

Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,

Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured

That he's a made-up villain.

Painter

I know none such, my lord.

Poet

Nor I.

TIMON

Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,

Rid me these villains from your companies:

Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,

Confound them by some course, and come to me,

I'll give you gold enough.

Both

Name them, my lord, let's know them.

TIMON

You that way and you this, but two in company;

Each man apart, all single and alone,

Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.

If where thou art two villains shall not be,

Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside

But where one villain is, then him abandon.

Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:

To Painter

You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence!

To Poet

You are an alchemist; make gold of that.

Out, rascal dogs!

Beats them out, and then retires to his cave

Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators

FLAVIUS

It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;

For he is set so only to himself

That nothing but himself which looks like man

Is friendly with him.

First Senator

Bring us to his cave:

It is our part and promise to the Athenians

To speak with Timon.

Second Senator

At all times alike

Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs

That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,

Offering the fortunes of his former days,

The former man may make him. Bring us to him,

And chance it as it may.

FLAVIUS

Here is his cave.

Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!

Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians,

By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:

Speak to them, noble Timon.

TIMON comes from his cave

TIMON

Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and

be hang'd:

For each true word, a blister! and each false

Be as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,

Consuming it with speaking!

First Senator

Worthy Timon,--

TIMON

Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.

First Senator

The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.

TIMON

I thank them; and would send them back the plague,

Could I but catch it for them.

First Senator

O, forget

What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.

The senators with one consent of love

Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought

On special dignities, which vacant lie

For thy best use and wearing.

Second Senator

They confess

Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:

Which now the public body, which doth seldom

Play the recanter, feeling in itself

A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal

Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;

And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,

Together with a recompense more fruitful

Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;

Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth

As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs

And write in thee the figures of their love,

Ever to read them thine.

TIMON

You witch me in it;

Surprise me to the very brink of tears:

Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,

And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.

First Senator

Therefore, so please thee to return with us

And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take

The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,

Allow'd with absolute power and thy good name

Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back

Of Alcibiades the approaches wild,

Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up

His country's peace.

Second Senator

And shakes his threatening sword

Against the walls of Athens.

First Senator

Therefore, Timon,--

TIMON

Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:

If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens,

And take our goodly aged men by the beards,

Giving our holy virgins to the stain

Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,

Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,

In pity of our aged and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,

And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,

While you have throats to answer: for myself,

There's not a whittle in the unruly camp

But I do prize it at my love before

The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you

To the protection of the prosperous gods,

As thieves to keepers.

FLAVIUS

Stay not, all's in vain.

TIMON

Why, I was writing of my epitaph;

it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness

Of health and living now begins to mend,

And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;

Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,

And last so long enough!

First Senator

We speak in vain.

TIMON

But yet I love my country, and am not

One that rejoices in the common wreck,

As common bruit doth put it.

First Senator

That's well spoke.

TIMON

Commend me to my loving countrymen,--

First Senator

These words become your lips as they pass

thorough them.

Second Senator

And enter in our ears like great triumphers

In their applauding gates.

TIMON

Commend me to them,

And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,

Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,

Their pangs of love, with other incident throes

That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain

In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

First Senator

I like this well; he will return again.

TIMON

I have a tree, which grows here in my close,

That mine own use invites me to cut down,

And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,

Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree

From high to low throughout, that whoso please

To stop affliction, let him take his haste,

Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,

And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.

FLAVIUS

Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.

TIMON

Come not to me again: but say to Athens,

Timon hath made his everlasting mansion

Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;

Who once a day with his embossed froth

The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,

And let my grave-stone be your oracle.

Lips, let sour words go by and language end:

What is amiss plague and infection mend!

Graves only be men's works and death their gain!

Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.

Retires to his cave

First Senator

His discontents are unremoveably

Coupled to nature.

Second Senator

Our hope in him is dead: let us return,

And strain what other means is left unto us

In our dear peril.

First Senator

It requires swift foot.

Exeunt