“Thou know'st 'tis common; all that livesmust die,Passing through nature to eternity.”

“Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.”

“Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-John.”

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And too often is his gold complexion dimm'd: And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance or natures changing course untrimm'd; By thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.”

“This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy sprungFrom 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 forgotThat ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,By putting on the cunning of a carper.Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thriveBy 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 welcomeTo knaves and all approachers: 'tis most justThat thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.”

“Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! 'Tis clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.”

“Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,Here, take: the gods out of my miseryHave 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 dogsWhat thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men likeblasted 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.”