书城公版Timon of Athens
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第19章 The woods near the sea-shore. BeforeTIMON'S cave(1

Enter TIMON in the woods

TIMON. 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's oblique; There's nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy. 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 th' accurs'd, Make the hoar leprosy ador'd, 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 th 'April day again. Come, damn'd earth, Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Do thy right nature. [March afar off] Ha! a drum? Th'art quick, But yet I'll bury thee. Thou't go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. Nay, stay thou outfor earnest. [Keeping some gold]