TIMON. Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent. Obedience, fail in children! Slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench And minister in their steads. To general filths Convert, o' th' instant, green virginity. Do't in your parents' eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives And cut your trusters' throats. Bound servants, steal: Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed: Thy mistress is o' th' brothel. Son of sixteen, Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire, With it beat out his brains. Piety and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries And let confusion live. Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke. Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty, Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive And drown themselves in riot. Itches, blains, Sow all th' Athenian bosoms, and their crop Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town! Take thou that too, with multiplying bans. Timon will to the woods, where he shall find Th' unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound- hear me, you good gods all- The Athenians both within and out that wall! And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen. Exit SCENE II. Athens. TIMON's house Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three SERVANTS FIRST SERVANT. Hear you, Master Steward, where's our master? Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining? FLAVIUS. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you. FIRST SERVANT. Such a house broke! So noble a master fall'n! All gone, and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm And go along with him? SECOND SERVANT. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave, So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows. Enter other SERVANTS