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What! we have many goodly days to see:
Why should'st thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given?
Hate all, curse all: shew charity to none;
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods.
Nor sleep, nor sanctuary,
Wash my fierce hand in 's heart.
But gentle Heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
I am Misantropos, and hate mankind.
Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
Had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur.
Doth speak of you, his cheeks look pale; and with
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
York! but that I hate thee deadly,
I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York;
What! were you snarling all, before I came,
Had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond:
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool,
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word-love, which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
How like a fawning publican he looks!
Thou may'st hold a serpent by the tongue,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.
Were half to half the world by th'ears, and he
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
There is no terror, Cassius, in your
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise;
Thou might'st have sooner got another service:
Upon their first lord's neck.
O wretched fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
Ay, sir; to be honest as this world goes,
The mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
That is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,