Act V, Scene I — Before the cell of Prospero
Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.
PROSPERO. Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey, and time Goes upright with his carriage. How’s the day?
ARIEL. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease.
PROSPERO. I did say so, When first I rais’d the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the King and ’s followers?
ARIEL. Confin’d together In the same fashion as you gave in charge, Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, In the line grove which weather-fends your cell; They cannot budge till your release. The King, His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly Him you term’d, sir, “the good old lord, Gonzalo”. His tears run down his beard, like winter’s drops From eaves of reeds; your charm so strongly works ’em, That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender.
PROSPERO. Dost thou think so, spirit?
ARIEL. Mine would, sir, were I human.
PROSPERO. And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply Passion as they, be kindlier mov’d than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th’ quick, Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury Do I take part: the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel. My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore, And they shall be themselves.
ARIEL. I’ll fetch them, sir.
[Exit.]
PROSPERO. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ’twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-bas’d promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure; and, when I have requir’d Some heavenly music,—which even now I do,— To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll drown my book.
[Solemn music.]
Re-enter Ariel: after him, Alonso with a frantic gesture, attended by Gonzalo, Sebastian and Antonio in like manner, attended by Adrian and Francisco: they all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charmed; which Prospero observing, speaks.
A solemn air, and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand, For you are spell-stopp’d. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, e’en sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo! My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him thou follow’st, I will pay thy graces Home, both in word and deed. Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinch’d for ’t now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, Expell’d remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian,— Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, Would here have kill’d your King; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me. Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell.
[Exit Ariel.]
I will discase me, and myself present As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free.
Ariel re-enters, singing, and helps to attire Prospero.
ARIEL _Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough._
PROSPERO. Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee; But yet thou shalt have freedom; so, so, so. To the King’s ship, invisible as thou art: There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain Being awake, enforce them to this place, And presently, I prithee.
ARIEL. I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse twice beat.
[Exit.]
GONZALO. All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country!
PROSPERO. Behold, sir King, The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero. For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome.
ALONSO. Whe’er thou be’st he or no, Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, Th’ affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, An if this be at all, a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero Be living and be here?
PROSPERO. First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot Be measur’d or confin’d.
GONZALO. Whether this be Or be not, I’ll not swear.
PROSPERO. You do yet taste Some subtleties o’ the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all. [Aside to Sebastian and Antonio.] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his highness’ frown upon you, And justify you traitors: at this time I will tell no tales.
SEBASTIAN. [Aside.] The devil speaks in him.
PROSPERO. No. For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault, all of them; and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce I know Thou must restore.
ALONSO. If thou beest Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation; How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since Were wrack’d upon this shore; where I have lost,— How sharp the point of this remembrance is!— My dear son Ferdinand.
PROSPERO. I am woe for ’t, sir.
ALONSO. Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure.
PROSPERO. I rather think You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace, For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content.
ALONSO. You the like loss!
PROSPERO. As great to me, as late; and, supportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I Have lost my daughter.
ALONSO. A daughter? O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?
PROSPERO. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath; but, howsoe’er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero, and that very duke Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wrack’d, was landed To be the lord on’t. No more yet of this; For ’tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir. This cell’s my court: here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing; At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much as me my dukedom.
Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess.
MIRANDA. Sweet lord, you play me false.
FERDINAND. No, my dearest love, I would not for the world.
MIRANDA. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it fair play.
ALONSO. If this prove A vision of the island, one dear son Shall I twice lose.
SEBASTIAN. A most high miracle!
FERDINAND. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful. I have curs’d them without cause.
[Kneels to Alonso.]
ALONSO. Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou cam’st here.
MIRANDA. O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world That has such people in ’t!
PROSPERO. ’Tis new to thee.
ALONSO. What is this maid, with whom thou wast at play? Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us, And brought us thus together?
FERDINAND. Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal Providence she’s mine. I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown, But never saw before; of whom I have Receiv’d a second life; and second father This lady makes him to me.
ALONSO. I am hers: But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness!
PROSPERO. There, sir, stop: Let us not burden our remembrances with A heaviness that’s gone.
GONZALO. I have inly wept, Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods, And on this couple drop a blessed crown; For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way Which brought us hither.
ALONSO. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
GONZALO. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves, When no man was his own.
ALONSO. [To Ferdinand and Miranda.] Give me your hands: Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy!
GONZALO. Be it so. Amen!
Re-enter Ariel with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following.
O look, sir, look, sir! Here are more of us. I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?
BOATSWAIN. The best news is that we have safely found Our King and company. The next, our ship,— Which but three glasses since, we gave out split, Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg’d as when We first put out to sea.
ARIEL. [Aside to Prospero.] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went.
PROSPERO. [Aside to Ariel.] My tricksy spirit!
ALONSO. These are not natural events; they strengthen From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?
BOATSWAIN. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I’d strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, And,—how, we know not,—all clapp’d under hatches, Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And mo diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awak’d; straightway, at liberty: Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master Cap’ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them, And were brought moping hither.
ARIEL. [Aside to Prospero.] Was’t well done?
PROSPERO. [Aside to Ariel.] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.
ALONSO. This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod; And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of: some oracle Must rectify our knowledge.
PROSPERO. Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business. At pick’d leisure, Which shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well. [Aside to Ariel.] Come hither, spirit; Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell.
[Exit Ariel.]
How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not.
Re-enter Ariel driving in Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo in their stolen apparel.
STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself, for all is but fortune.—Coragio! bully-monster, coragio!
TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here’s a goodly sight.
CALIBAN. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed. How fine my master is! I am afraid He will chastise me.
SEBASTIAN. Ha, ha! What things are these, my lord Antonio? Will money buy them?
ANTONIO. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.
PROSPERO. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave, His mother was a witch; and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without her power. These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil, For he’s a bastard one, had plotted with them To take my life. Two of these fellows you Must know and own; this thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.
CALIBAN. I shall be pinch’d to death.
ALONSO. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
SEBASTIAN. He is drunk now: where had he wine?
ALONSO. And Trinculo is reeling-ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em? How cam’st thou in this pickle?
TRINCULO. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones. I shall not fear fly-blowing.
SEBASTIAN. Why, how now, Stephano!
STEPHANO. O! touch me not. I am not Stephano, but a cramp.
PROSPERO. You’d be King o’ the isle, sirrah?
STEPHANO. I should have been a sore one, then.
ALONSO. This is as strange a thing as e’er I look’d on.
[Pointing to Caliban.]
PROSPERO. He is as disproportioned in his manners As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions. As you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.
CALIBAN. Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool!
PROSPERO. Go to; away!
ALONSO. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.
SEBASTIAN. Or stole it, rather.
[Exeunt Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo.]
PROSPERO. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, I’ll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away: the story of my life And the particular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle: and in the morn I’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-belov’d solemnized; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
ALONSO. I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.
PROSPERO. I’ll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ariel.] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near.
[Exeunt.]
Epilogue
PROSPERO. Now my charms are all o’erthrown, And what strength I have’s mine own, Which is most faint. Now ’tis true, I must be here confin’d by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got, And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell, But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands. Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev’d by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon’d be, Let your indulgence set me free.
[Exit.]
THE LIFE OF TIMON OF ATHENS
Dramatis Personæ
TIMON, a noble Athenian FLAVIUS, steward to Timon FLAMINIUS, servant to Timon LUCILIUS, servant to Timon SERVILIUS, servant to Timon
APEMANTUS, a churlish philosopher ALCIBIADES, an Athenian captain PHRYNIA, mistress to Alcibiades TIMANDRA, mistress to Alcibiades
LUCIUS, friend of Timon LUCULLUS, friend of Timon SEMPRONIUS, friend of Timon VENTIDIUS, friend of Timon
CAPHIS, servant of Timon’s creditors SERVANT of Isidore Two SERVANTS of Varro TITUS, servant of Timon’s creditors HORTENSIUS, servant of Timon’s creditors LUCIUS, servant of Timon’s creditors PHILOTUS, servant of Timon’s creditors
LORDS and SENATORS of Athens Three STRANGERS, one called HOSTILIUS An OLD ATHENIAN POET PAINTER JEWELLER MERCHANT A FOOL A PAGE
CUPID and Amazons in the Masque
BANDITTI
Officers, Soldiers, Servants, Thieves, Messengers and Attendants
SCENE. Athens, and the neighbouring woods
Act I, Scene I — Athens. A hall in Timon’s house
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller and Merchant at several doors.
POET. Good day, sir.
PAINTER. I am glad you’re well.
POET. I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
PAINTER. It wears, sir, as it grows.
POET. Ay, that’s well known. But what particular rarity? What strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty, all these spirits thy power Hath conjured to attend! I know the merchant.
PAINTER. I know them both. Th’ other’s a jeweller.
MERCHANT. O, ’tis a worthy lord!
JEWELLER. Nay, that’s most fixed.
MERCHANT. A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.
JEWELLER. I have a jewel here—
MERCHANT. O, pray let’s see’t. For the Lord Timon, sir?
JEWELLER. If he will touch the estimate. But for that—
POET. When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.
MERCHANT. [Looking at the jewel.] ’Tis a good form.
JEWELLER. And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.
POET. A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum which oozes From whence ’tis nourished. The fire i’ th’ flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself and, like the current, flies Each bound it chases. What have you there?
PAINTER. A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
POET. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let’s see your piece.
PAINTER. ’Tis a good piece.
POET. So ’tis. This comes off well and excellent.
PAINTER. Indifferent.
POET. Admirable! How this grace Speaks his own standing! What a mental power This eye shoots forth! How big imagination Moves in this lip! To th’ dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.
PAINTER. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch. Is’t good?
POET. I’ll say of it, It tutors nature. Artificial strife Lives in these touches livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, who pass over the stage.
PAINTER. How this lord is followed!
POET. The senators of Athens, happy men!
PAINTER. Look, more!
POET. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment. My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax. No levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
PAINTER. How shall I understand you?
POET. I will unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, As well of glib and slipp’ry creatures as Of grave and austere quality, tender down Their services to Lord Timon. His large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself; even he drops down The knee before him and returns in peace Most rich in Timon’s nod.
PAINTER. I saw them speak together.
POET. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o’ th’ mount Is ranked with all deserts, all kind of natures That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states. Amongst them all Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixed, One do I personate of Lord Timon’s frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her, Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.
PAINTER. ’Tis conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckoned from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressed In our condition.
POET. Nay, sir, but hear me on. All those which were his fellows but of late, Some better than his value, on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.
PAINTER. Ay, marry, what of these?
POET. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, Which laboured after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.
PAINTER. ’Tis common. A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune’s More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Lord Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor. He is accompanied by a Messenger; Lucilius and other servants follow.
TIMON. Imprisoned is he, say you?
MESSENGER. Ay, my good lord. Five talents is his debt, His means most short, his creditors most strait. Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up, which, failing, Periods his comfort.
TIMON. Noble Ventidius. Well, I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, Which he shall have. I’ll pay the debt and free him.
MESSENGER. Your lordship ever binds him.
TIMON. Commend me to him, I will send his ransom; And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me. ’Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well.
MESSENGER. All happiness to your honour.
[Exit.]
Enter an Old Athenian.
OLD ATHENIAN. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
TIMON. Freely, good father.
OLD ATHENIAN. Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.
TIMON. I have so. What of him?
OLD ATHENIAN. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
TIMON. Attends he here or no? Lucilius!
LUCILIUS. Here, at your lordship’s service.
OLD ATHENIAN. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclined to thrift, And my estate deserves an heir more raised Than one which holds a trencher.
TIMON. Well, what further?
OLD ATHENIAN. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got. The maid is fair, o’ th’ youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love. I prithee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.
TIMON. The man is honest.
OLD ATHENIAN. Therefore he will be, Timon. His honesty rewards him in itself; It must not bear my daughter.
TIMON. Does she love him?
OLD ATHENIAN. She is young and apt. Our own precedent passions do instruct us What levity’s in youth.
TIMON. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
LUCILIUS. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
OLD ATHENIAN. If in her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world And dispossess her all.
TIMON. How shall she be endowed, If she be mated with an equal husband?
OLD ATHENIAN. Three talents on the present; in future, all.
TIMON. This gentleman of mine hath served me long. To build his fortune I will strain a little, For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter. What you bestow, in him I’ll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her.
OLD ATHENIAN. Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
TIMON. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.
LUCILIUS. Humbly I thank your lordship. Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping Which is not owed to you.
[Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian.]
POET. [Presenting his poem.] Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship.
TIMON. I thank you, you shall hear from me anon. Go not away.—What have you there, my friend?
PAINTER. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
TIMON. Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man, For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, He is but outside; these pencilled figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work, And you shall find I like it. Wait attendance Till you hear further from me.
PAINTER. The gods preserve you.
TIMON. Well fare you, gentleman. Give me your hand. We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel Hath suffered under praise.
JEWELLER. What, my lord, dispraise?
TIMON. A mere satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for ’t as ’tis extolled, It would unclew me quite.
JEWELLER. My lord, ’tis rated As those which sell would give. But you well know Things of like value, differing in the owners, Are prized by their masters. Believe’t, dear lord, You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
TIMON. Well mocked.
MERCHANT. No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him.
Enter Apemantus.
TIMON. Look who comes here. Will you be chid?
JEWELLER. We’ll bear, with your lordship.
MERCHANT. He’ll spare none.
TIMON. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.
APEMANTUS. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow— When thou art Timon’s dog, and these knaves honest.
TIMON. Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou know’st them not.
APEMANTUS. Are they not Athenians?
TIMON. Yes.
APEMANTUS. Then I repent not.
JEWELLER. You know me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Thou know’st I do, I called thee by thy name.
TIMON. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS. Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
TIMON. Whither art going?
APEMANTUS. To knock out an honest Athenian’s brains.
TIMON. That’s a deed thou’lt die for.
APEMANTUS. Right, if doing nothing be death by th’ law.
TIMON. How lik’st thou this picture, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. The best, for the innocence.
TIMON. Wrought he not well that painted it?
APEMANTUS. He wrought better that made the painter, and yet he’s but a filthy piece of work.
PAINTER. You’re a dog.
APEMANTUS. Thy mother’s of my generation. What’s she, if I be a dog?
TIMON. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. No, I eat not lords.
TIMON. An thou shouldst, thou’dst anger ladies.
APEMANTUS. O, they eat lords. So they come by great bellies.
TIMON. That’s a lascivious apprehension.
APEMANTUS. So thou apprehend’st it, take it for thy labour.
TIMON. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
TIMON. What dost thou think ’tis worth?
APEMANTUS. Not worth my thinking. How now, poet?
POET. How now, philosopher?
APEMANTUS. Thou liest.
POET. Art not one?
APEMANTUS. Yes.
POET. Then I lie not.
APEMANTUS. Art not a poet?
POET. Yes.
APEMANTUS. Then thou liest. Look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.
POET. That’s not feigned, he is so.
APEMANTUS. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He that loves to be flattered is worthy o’ th’ flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!
TIMON. What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. E’en as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.
TIMON. What, thyself?
APEMANTUS. Ay.
TIMON. Wherefore?
APEMANTUS. That I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?
MERCHANT. Ay, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not.
MERCHANT. If traffic do it, the gods do it.
APEMANTUS. Traffic’s thy god, and thy god confound thee!
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
TIMON. What trumpet’s that?
MESSENGER. ’Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, All of companionship.
TIMON. Pray entertain them, give them guide to us.
[Exeunt some Attendants.]
You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence Till I have thanked you; when dinner’s done, Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades with his company.
Most welcome, sir.
[They bow to each other.]
APEMANTUS. [Aside.] So, so, there! Aches contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love amongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy! The strain of man’s bred out Into baboon and monkey.
ALCIBIADES. Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sight.
TIMON. Right welcome, sir! Ere we depart we’ll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt all but Apemantus.]
Enter two Lords.
FIRST LORD. What time o’ day is’t, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Time to be honest.
FIRST LORD. That time serves still.
APEMANTUS. The more accursed thou, that still omitt’st it.
SECOND LORD. Thou art going to Lord Timon’s feast?
APEMANTUS. Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.
SECOND LORD. Fare thee well, fare thee well.
APEMANTUS. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
SECOND LORD. Why, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.
FIRST LORD. Hang thyself!
APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding. Make thy requests to thy friend.
SECOND LORD. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I’ll spurn thee hence.
APEMANTUS. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o’ th’ ass.
[Exit.]
FIRST LORD. He’s opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in And taste Lord Timon’s bounty? He outgoes The very heart of kindness.
SECOND LORD. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, Is but his steward. No meed but he repays Sevenfold above itself, no gift to him But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.
FIRST LORD. The noblest mind he carries That ever governed man.
SECOND LORD. Long may he live in fortunes. Shall we in?
FIRST LORD. I’ll keep you company.
[Exeunt.]
Act I, Scene II — The Same. A room of state in Timon’s house
Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in, Flavius and others attending; and then enter Lord Timon, the Senators, the Athenian Lords, Alcibiades, and Ventidius, which Timon redeemded from prison. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly, like himself.
VENTIDIUS. Most honoured Timon, It hath pleased the gods to remember my father’s age And call him to long peace. He is gone happy and has left me rich. Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derived liberty.
TIMON. O, by no means, Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love. I gave it freely ever, and there’s none Can truly say he gives if he receives. If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.
VENTIDIUS. A noble spirit!
TIMON. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devised at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown; But where there is true friendship there needs none. Pray, sit, more welcome are ye to my fortunes Than my fortunes to me.
[They sit.]
FIRST LORD. My lord, we always have confessed it.
APEMANTUS. Ho, ho, confessed it? Hanged it, have you not?
TIMON. O Apemantus, you are welcome.
APEMANTUS. No, You shall not make me welcome. I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
TIMON. Fie, thou’rt a churl, ye’ve got a humour there Does not become a man; ’tis much to blame. They say, my lords, ira furor brevis est, But yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself, For he does neither affect company, Nor is he fit for it indeed.
APEMANTUS. Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon. I come to observe; I give thee warning on’t.
TIMON. I take no heed of thee. Thou’rt an Athenian, therefore, welcome. I myself would have no power; prithee; let my meat make thee silent.
APEMANTUS. I scorn thy meat, ’twould choke me, for I should ne’er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he sees ’em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. Methinks they should invite them without knives. Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There’s much example for ’t. The fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draft, is the readiest man to kill him. ’T has been proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals, Lest they should spy my wind-pipe’s dangerous notes. Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
TIMON. My lord, in heart, and let the health go round.
SECOND LORD. Let it flow this way, my good lord.
APEMANTUS. Flow this way? A brave fellow! He keeps his tides well. Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here’s that which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne’er left man i’ the mire. This and my food are equals, there’s no odds. Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
Apemantus’ grace
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf, I pray for no man but myself. Grant I may never prove so fond To trust man on his oath or bond, Or a harlot for her weeping, Or a dog that seems a-sleeping, Or a keeper with my freedom, Or my friends if I should need ’em. Amen. So fall to’t. Rich men sin, and I eat root.
[He eats and drinks.]
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
TIMON. Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now.
ALCIBIADES. My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TIMON. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.
ALCIBIADES. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there’s no meat like ’em. I could wish my best friend at such a feast.
APEMANTUS. Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill ’em, and bid me to ’em.
FIRST LORD. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.
TIMON. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you. How had you been my friends else? Why have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends if we should ne’er have need of ’em? They were the most needless creatures living, should we ne’er have use for ’em, and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits, and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort ’tis to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another’s fortunes. O joy’s e’en made away ere’t can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their faults, I drink to you.
APEMANTUS. Thou weep’st to make them drink, Timon.
SECOND LORD. Joy had the like conception in our eyes And, at that instant like a babe sprung up.
APEMANTUS. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.
THIRD LORD. I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.
APEMANTUS. Much!
[A tucket sounds.]
TIMON. What means that trump?
Enter a Servant.
How now?
SERVANT. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.
TIMON. Ladies? What are their wills?
SERVANT. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.
TIMON. I pray, let them be admitted.
[Exit Servant.]
Enter Cupid.
CUPID. Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all That of his bounties taste! The five best senses Acknowledge thee their patron and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. There Taste, touch, all, pleased from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
TIMON. They’re welcome all, let ’em have kind admittance. Music, make their welcome!
FIRST LORD. You see, my lord, how ample you’re beloved.
Music. Enter a masque of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing.
APEMANTUS. Hoy-day! What a sweep of vanity comes this way. They dance? They are madwomen. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friend’s gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me. ’T has been done. Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
[The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of Timon, and to show their loves each singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.]
TIMON. You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, Which was not half so beautiful and kind. You have added worth unto ’t and lustre, And entertained me with mine own device. I am to thank you for ’t.
FIRST LADY. My lord, you take us even at the best.
APEMANTUS. Faith, for the worst is filthy and would not hold taking, I doubt me.
TIMON. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you, Please you to dispose yourselves.
ALL LADIES. Most thankfully, my lord.
[Exeunt Cupid and Ladies.]
TIMON. Flavius!
FLAVIUS. My lord?
TIMON. The little casket bring me hither.
FLAVIUS. Yes, my lord. [Aside.] More jewels yet? There is no crossing him in ’s humour; Else I should tell him well, i’ faith, I should, When all’s spent, he’d be crossed then, an he could. ’Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, That man might ne’er be wretched for his mind.
[Exit.]
FIRST LORD. Where be our men?
SERVANT. Here, my lord, in readiness.
SECOND LORD. Our horses!
Enter Flavius with the casket.
TIMON. O, my friends, I have one word To say to you. Look you, my good lord, I must entreat you, honour me so much As to advance this jewel. Accept it and wear it, Kind my lord.
FIRST LORD. I am so far already in your gifts—
ALL. So are we all.
Enter a Servant.
SERVANT. My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate Newly alighted and come to visit you.
TIMON. They are fairly welcome.
[Exit Servant.]
FLAVIUS. I beseech your honour, Vouchsafe me a word. It does concern you near.
TIMON. Near? Why then, another time I’ll hear thee. I prithee let’s be provided to show them entertainment.
FLAVIUS. [Aside.] I scarce know how.
Enter another Servant.
SECOND SERVANT. May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you Four milk-white horses, trapped in silver.
TIMON. I shall accept them fairly; let the presents Be worthily entertained.
[Exit Servant.]
Enter a third Servant.
How now? What news?
THIRD SERVANT. Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
TIMON. I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received, Not without fair reward.
[Exit Servant.]
FLAVIUS. [Aside.] What will this come to? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer; Nor will he know his purse or yield me this: To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word. He is so kind that he now Pays interest for ’t; his land’s put to their books. Well, would I were gently put out of office Before I were forced out. Happier is he that has no friend to feed Than such that do e’en enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord.
[Exit.]
TIMON. You do yourselves much wrong, You bate too much of your own merits. Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
SECOND LORD. With more than common thanks I will receive it.
THIRD LORD. O, he’s the very soul of bounty!
TIMON. And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. ’Tis yours because you liked it.
THIRD LORD. O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.
TIMON. You may take my word, my lord. I know no man Can justly praise but what he does affect. I weigh my friend’s affection with mine own. I’ll tell you true, I’ll call to you.
ALL LORDS. O, none so welcome!
TIMON. I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, ’tis not enough to give; Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And ne’er be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich. It comes in charity to thee, for all thy living Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitched field.
ALCIBIADES. Ay, defiled land, my lord.
FIRST LORD. We are so virtuously bound—
TIMON. And so am I to you.
SECOND LORD. So infinitely endeared—
TIMON. All to you. Lights, more lights!
FIRST LORD. The best of happiness, honour, and fortunes keep with you, Lord Timon.
TIMON. Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt all but Apemantus and Timon.]
APEMANTUS. What a coil’s here! Serving of becks and jutting out of bums! I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums That are given for ’em. Friendship’s full of dregs. Methinks false hearts should never have sound legs. Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies.
TIMON. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be good to thee.
APEMANTUS. No, I’ll nothing, for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou giv’st so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these feasts, pomps, and vainglories?
TIMON. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, and come with better music.
[Exit.]
APEMANTUS. So. Thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then. I’ll lock thy heaven from thee. O, that men’s ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!
[Exit.]
Act II, Scene I — Athens. A room in a senator’s house
Enter a Senator with papers.
SENATOR. And late five thousand. To Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand, besides my former sum, Which makes it five-and-twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste! It cannot hold; it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar’s dog And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon— Ask nothing, give it him—it foals me straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis, ho! Caphis, I say!
Enter Caphis.
CAPHIS. Here, sir, what is your pleasure?
SENATOR. Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon. Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased With slight denial, nor then silenced when “Commend me to your master”, and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus; but tell him, My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own, his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit. I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be tossed and turned to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone. Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand, for I do fear When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
CAPHIS. I go, sir.
SENATOR. Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in. Come.
CAPHIS. I will, sir.
SENATOR. Go.
[Exeunt.]
Act II, Scene II — The same. A hall in Timon’s house
Enter Flavius with many bills in his hand.
FLAVIUS. No care, no stop, so senseless of expense, That he will neither know how to maintain it Nor cease his flow of riot. Takes no account How things go from him, nor resumes no care Of what is to continue. Never mind Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. What shall be done? He will not hear till feel. I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. Fie, fie, fie, fie!
Enter Caphis and the Servants of Isidore and Varro.
CAPHIS. Good even, Varro. What, you come for money?
VARRO’S SERVANT. Is’t not your business too?
CAPHIS. It is. And yours too, Isidore?
ISIDORE’S SERVANT. It is so.
CAPHIS. Would we were all discharged!
VARRO’S SERVANT. I fear it.
CAPHIS. Here comes the lord.
Enter Timon and his train with Alcibiades
TIMON. So soon as dinner’s done, we’ll forth again, My Alcibiades. With me? What is your will?
CAPHIS. My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
TIMON. Dues? Whence are you?
CAPHIS. Of Athens here, my lord.
TIMON. Go to my steward.
CAPHIS. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off To the succession of new days this month. My master is awaked by great occasion To call upon his own and humbly prays you That with your other noble parts you’ll suit In giving him his right.
TIMON. Mine honest friend, I prithee but repair to me next morning.
CAPHIS. Nay, good my lord—
TIMON. Contain thyself, good friend.
VARRO’S SERVANT. One Varro’s servant, my good lord—
ISIDORE’S SERVANT. From Isidore. He humbly prays your speedy payment.
CAPHIS. If you did know, my lord, my master’s wants—
VARRO’S SERVANT. ’Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks and past.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT. Your steward puts me off, my lord, and I Am sent expressly to your lordship.
TIMON. Give me breath. I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on, I’ll wait upon you instantly.
[Exeunt Alcibiades and Timon’s train.]
[To Flavius.] Come hither. Pray you, How goes the world, that I am thus encountered With clamorous demands of debt, broken bonds, And the detention of long-since-due debts Against my honour?
FLAVIUS. Please you, gentlemen, The time is unagreeable to this business. Your importunacy cease till after dinner, That I may make his lordship understand Wherefore you are not paid.
TIMON. Do so, my friends. See them well entertained.
[Exit.]
FLAVIUS. Pray, draw near.
[Exit.]
Enter Apemantus and Fool.
CAPHIS. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus. Let’s ha’ some sport with ’em.
VARRO’S SERVANT. Hang him, he’ll abuse us.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT. A plague upon him, dog!
VARRO’S SERVANT. How dost, fool?
APEMANTUS. Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
VARRO’S SERVANT. I speak not to thee.
APEMANTUS. No, ’tis to thyself. [To the Fool.] Come away.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT. [To Varro’s servant.] There’s the fool hangs on your back already.
APEMANTUS. No, thou stand’st single; thou’rt not on him yet.
CAPHIS. Where’s the fool now?
APEMANTUS. He last asked the question. Poor rogues and usurers’ men, bawds between gold and want.
ALL SERVANTS. What are we, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Asses.
ALL SERVANTS. Why?
APEMANTUS. That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Speak to ’em, fool.
FOOL. How do you, gentlemen?
ALL SERVANTS. Gramercies, good fool. How does your mistress?
FOOL. She’s e’en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth!
APEMANTUS. Good, gramercy.
Enter Page.
FOOL. Look you, here comes my mistress’ page.
PAGE. [To the Fool.] Why, how now, captain? What do you in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS. Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.
PAGE. Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters. I know not which is which.
APEMANTUS. Canst not read?
PAGE. No.
APEMANTUS. There will little learning die, then, that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thou’lt die a bawd.
PAGE. Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a dog’s death. Answer not; I am gone.
[Exit Page.]
APEMANTUS. E’en so thou outrunn’st grace. Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timon’s.
FOOL. Will you leave me there?
APEMANTUS. If Timon stay at home.—You three serve three usurers?
ALL SERVANTS. Ay, would they served us!
APEMANTUS. So would I—as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.
FOOL. Are you three usurers’ men?
ALL SERVANTS. Ay, fool.
FOOL. I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly and go away merry, but they enter my mistress’s house merrily and go away sadly. The reason of this?
VARRO’S SERVANT. I could render one.
APEMANTUS. Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave, which notwithstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed.
VARRO’S SERVANT. What is a whoremaster, fool?
FOOL. A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. ’Tis a spirit; sometime ’t appears like a lord, sometime like a lawyer, sometime like a philosopher, with two stones more than’s artificial one. He is very often like a knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.
VARRO’S SERVANT. Thou art not altogether a fool.
FOOL. Nor thou altogether a wise man. As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lack’st.
APEMANTUS. That answer might have become Apemantus.
VARRO’S SERVANT. Aside, aside, here comes Lord Timon.
Enter Timon and Flavius.
APEMANTUS. Come with me, fool, come.
FOOL. I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and woman; sometime the philosopher.
[Exeunt Apemantus and Fool.]
FLAVIUS. Pray you walk near. I’ll speak with you anon.
[Exeunt Servants.]
TIMON. You make me marvel wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laid my state before me, That I might so have rated my expense As I had leave of means.
FLAVIUS. You would not hear me, At many leisures I proposed.
TIMON. Go to. Perchance some single vantages you took When my indisposition put you back, And that unaptness made your minister Thus to excuse yourself.
FLAVIUS. O my good lord, At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you; you would throw them off And say you found them in mine honesty. When for some trifling present you have bid me Return so much, I have shook my head and wept, Yea, ’gainst th’ authority of manners, prayed you To hold your hand more close. I did endure Not seldom nor no slight checks, when I have Prompted you in the ebb of your estate And your great flow of debts. My loved lord, Though you hear now, too late, yet now’s a time. The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts.
TIMON. Let all my land be sold.
FLAVIUS. ’Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone, And what remains will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues; the future comes apace. What shall defend the interim? And at length How goes our reckoning?
TIMON. To Lacedaemon did my land extend.
FLAVIUS. O my good lord, the world is but a word; Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone!
TIMON. You tell me true.
FLAVIUS. If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before th’ exactest auditors And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppressed With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blazed with lights and brayed with minstrelsy, I have retired me to a wasteful cock And set mine eyes at flow.
TIMON. Prithee, no more.
FLAVIUS. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord! How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants This night englutted? Who is not Timon’s? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon’s? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made. Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, These flies are couched.
TIMON. Come, sermon me no further. No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart. If I would broach the vessels of my love And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and men’s fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak.
FLAVIUS. Assurance bless your thoughts!
TIMON. And in some sort these wants of mine are crowned, That I account them blessings. For by these Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you Mistake my fortunes. I am wealthy in my friends. Within there! Flaminius! Servilius!
Enter Flaminius, Servilius and a third Servant.
SERVANTS. My lord, my lord.
TIMON. I will dispatch you severally. [To Servilius.] You to Lord Lucius; [To Flaminius.] to Lord Lucullus you, I hunted with his honour today; [To the third Servant.] you to Sempronius. Commend me to their loves; and I am proud, say, that my occasions have found time to use ’em toward a supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents.
FLAMINIUS. As you have said, my lord.
[Exeunt Servants.]
FLAVIUS. [Aside.] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh!
TIMON. Go you, sir, to the senators, Of whom, even to the state’s best health, I have Deserved this hearing, Bid ’em send o’ th’ instant A thousand talents to me.
FLAVIUS. I have been bold— For that I knew it the most general way— To them to use your signet and your name, But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return.
TIMON. Is’t true? Can’t be?
FLAVIUS. They answer in a joint and corporate voice That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry. You are honourable, But yet they could have wished—they know not— Something hath been amiss—a noble nature May catch a wrench—would all were well—’tis pity. And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods They froze me into silence.
TIMON. You gods, reward them! Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary. Their blood is caked, ’tis cold, it seldom flows; ’Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy. Go to Ventidius. Prithee, be not sad, Thou art true and honest, ingenuously I speak, No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately Buried his father, by whose death he’s stepped Into a great estate. When he was poor, Imprisoned and in scarcity of friends, I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me, Bid him suppose some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be remembered With those five talents. That had, give’t these fellows To whom ’tis instant due. Ne’er speak, or think That Timon’s fortunes ’mong his friends can sink.
[Exit.]
FLAVIUS. I would I could not think it. That thought is bounty’s foe; Being free itself, it thinks all others so.
[Exit.]
Act III, Scene I — Athens. A room in Lucullus’ house
Flaminius waiting to speak with Lucullus from his master.
Enter a Servant to him.
SERVANT. I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.
FLAMINIUS. I thank you, sir.
Enter Lucullus.
SERVANT. Here’s my lord.
LUCULLUS. [Aside.] One of Lord Timon’s men? A gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right. I dreamt of a silver basin and ewer tonight.—Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome, sir. Fill me some wine.
[Exit Servant.]
And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master?
FLAMINIUS. His health is well, sir.
LUCULLUS. I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?
FLAMINIUS. Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord’s behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply; who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein.
LUCULLUS. La, la, la, la! Nothing doubting, says he? Alas, good lord! A noble gentleman ’tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha’ dined with him, and told him on’t, and come again to supper to him of purpose to have him spend less, and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha’ told him on’t, but I could ne’er get him from ’t.
Enter Servant with wine.
SERVANT. Please your lordship, here is the wine.
LUCULLUS. Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here’s to thee.
FLAMINIUS. Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
LUCULLUS. I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit, give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason, and canst use the time well, if the time use thee well. Good parts in thee. [To Servant.] Get you gone, sirrah.—
[Exit Servant.]
Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord’s a bountiful gentleman, but thou art wise and thou know’st well enough, although thou com’st to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security. Here’s three solidares for thee. Good boy, wink at me, and say thou saw’st me not. Fare thee well.
FLAMINIUS. Is’t possible the world should so much differ, And we alive that lived? Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee.
[Throws the money back.]
LUCULLUS. Ha! Now I see thou art a fool and fit for thy master.
[Exit.]
FLAMINIUS. May these add to the number that may scald thee! Let molten coin be thy damnation, Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! Has friendship such a faint and milky heart It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, I feel my master’s passion. This slave Unto his honour has my lord’s meat in him. Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment When he is turned to poison? O, may diseases only work upon’t, And when he’s sick to death, let not that part of nature Which my lord paid for be of any power To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.
[Exit.]
Act III, Scene II — A public place
Enter Lucius with three Strangers.
LUCIUS. Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an honourable gentleman.
FIRST STRANGER. We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon’s happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him.
LUCIUS. Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot want for money.
SECOND STRANGER. But believe you this, my lord, that, not long ago one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents, nay, urged extremely for’t, and showed what necessity belonged to’t, and yet was denied.
LUCIUS. How?
SECOND STRANGER. I tell you, denied, my lord.
LUCIUS. What a strange case was that! Now, before the gods, I am ashamed on’t. Denied that honourable man? There was very little honour showed in’t. For my own part, I must needs confess, I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet had he mistook him, and sent to me, I should ne’er have denied his occasion so many talents.
Enter Servilius.
SERVILIUS. See, by good hap, yonder’s my lord; I have sweat to see his honour. [To Lucius.] My honoured lord!
LUCIUS. Servilius? You are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well. Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
SERVILIUS. May it please your honour, my lord hath sent—
LUCIUS. Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord; he’s ever sending. How shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?
SERVILIUS. Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord, requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.
LUCIUS. I know his lordship is but merry with me; He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
SERVILIUS. But in the meantime he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous, I should not urge it half so faithfully.
LUCIUS. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
SERVILIUS. Upon my soul, ’tis true, sir.
LUCIUS. What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might ha’ shown myself honourable! How unluckily it happened that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour! Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do—the more beast, I say—I was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship, and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me: I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him?
SERVILIUS. Yes, sir, I shall.
LUCIUS. I’ll look you out a good turn, Servilius.
[Exit Servilius.]
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed, And he that’s once denied will hardly speed.
[Exit.]
FIRST STRANGER. Do you observe this, Hostilius?
SECOND STRANGER. Ay, too well.
FIRST STRANGER. Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece Is every flatterer’s spirit. Who can call him his friend That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, Timon has been this lord’s father And kept his credit with his purse, Supported his estate, nay, Timon’s money Has paid his men their wages. He ne’er drinks But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip, And yet—O, see the monstrousness of man When he looks out in an ungrateful shape— He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars.
THIRD STRANGER. Religion groans at it.
FIRST STRANGER. For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me To mark me for his friend. Yet I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, And the best half should have returned to him, So much I love his heart. But I perceive Men must learn now with pity to dispense, For policy sits above conscience.
[Exeunt.]
Act III, Scene III — The same. A room in Sempronius’ house
Enter a Third Servant of Timon’s with Sempronius, another of Timon’s friends.
SEMPRONIUS. Must he needs trouble me in’t? Hum! ’Bove all others? He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeemed from prison. All these Owe their estates unto him.
SERVANT. My lord, They have all been touched and found base metal, For they have all denied him.
SEMPRONIUS. How? Have they denied him? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him And does he send to me? Three? Humh! It shows but little love or judgment in him. Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, Thrive, give him over. Must I take th’ cure upon me? Has much disgraced me in’t. I’m angry at him, That might have known my place. I see no sense for’t But his occasions might have wooed me first; For, in my conscience, I was the first man That e’er received gift from him. And does he think so backwardly of me now That I’ll requite it last? No. So it may prove an argument of laughter To th’ rest, and I ’mongst lords be thought a fool. I’d rather than the worth of thrice the sum Had sent to me first, but for my mind’s sake; I’d such a courage to do him good. But now return, And with their faint reply this answer join: Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.
[Exit.]
SERVANT. Excellent! Your lordship’s a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic; he crossed himself by’t, and I cannot think but, in the end the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! Takes virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire. Of such a nature is his politic love. This was my lord’s best hope, now all are fled Save only the gods. Now his friends are dead, Doors that were ne’er acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year must be employed Now to guard sure their master. And this is all a liberal course allows, Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.
[Exit.]
Act III, Scene IV — A hall in Timon’s house
Enter two of Varro’s Servants meeting Titus and Hortensius and then Lucius, all Servants of Timon’s creditors, to wait for his coming out.
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. Well met, good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.
TITUS. The like to you, kind Varro.
HORTENSIUS. Lucius! What, do we meet together?
LUCIUS. Ay, and I think One business does command us all; For mine is money.
TITUS. So is theirs and ours.
Enter Philotus.
LUCIUS. And, sir, Philotus too!
PHILOTUS. Good day at once.
LUCIUS. Welcome, good brother. What do you think the hour?
PHILOTUS. Labouring for nine.
LUCIUS. So much?
PHILOTUS. Is not my lord seen yet?
LUCIUS. Not yet.
PHILOTUS. I wonder on’t, he was wont to shine at seven.
LUCIUS. Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him. You must consider that a prodigal course Is like the sun’s, but not like his recoverable. I fear ’tis deepest winter in Lord Timon’s purse: That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet Find little.
PHILOTUS. I am of your fear for that.
TITUS. I’ll show you how t’ observe a strange event. Your lord sends now for money?
HORTENSIUS. Most true, he does.
TITUS. And he wears jewels now of Timon’s gift, For which I wait for money.
HORTENSIUS. It is against my heart.
LUCIUS. Mark how strange it shows, Timon in this should pay more than he owes, And e’en as if your lord should wear rich jewels And send for money for ’em.
HORTENSIUS. I’m weary of this charge, the gods can witness. I know my lord hath spent of Timon’s wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. Yes, mine’s three thousand crowns. What’s yours?
LUCIUS. Five thousand mine.
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. ’Tis much deep, and it should seem by th’ sum Your master’s confidence was above mine, Else surely his had equalled.
Enter Flaminius.
TITUS. One of Lord Timon’s men.
LUCIUS. Flaminius? Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord ready to come forth?
FLAMINIUS. No, indeed he is not.
TITUS. We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much.
FLAMINIUS. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent.
[Exit Flaminius.]
Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled.
LUCIUS. Ha, is not that his steward muffled so? He goes away in a cloud. Call him, call him.
TITUS. Do you hear, sir?
SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT. By your leave, sir.
FLAVIUS. What do you ask of me, my friend?
TITUS. We wait for certain money here, sir.
FLAVIUS. Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, ’Twere sure enough. Why then preferred you not your sums and bills When your false masters eat of my lord’s meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, And take down th’ interest into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up, Let me pass quietly. Believe’t, my lord and I have made an end, I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
LUCIUS. Ay, but this answer will not serve.
FLAVIUS. If ’twill not serve, ’tis not so base as you, For you serve knaves.
[Exit.]
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. How? What does his cashiered worship mutter?
SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT. No matter what, he’s poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.
Enter Servilius.
TITUS. O, here’s Servilius; now we shall know some answer.
SERVILIUS. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from’t. For take’t of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him, he’s much out of health and keeps his chamber.
LUCIUS. Many do keep their chambers are not sick. And if it be so far beyond his health, Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts And make a clear way to the gods.
SERVILIUS. Good gods!
TITUS. We cannot take this for answer, sir.
FLAMINIUS. [Within.] Servilius, help! My lord, my lord!
Enter Timon in a rage.
TIMON. What, are my doors opposed against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my jail? The place which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
LUCIUS. Put in now, Titus.
TITUS. My lord, here is my bill.
LUCIUS. Here’s mine.
HORTENSIUS. And mine, my lord.
BOTH VARRO’S SERVANTS. And ours, my lord.
PHILOTUS. All our bills.
TIMON. Knock me down with ’em! Cleave me to the girdle.
LUCIUS. Alas, my lord—
TIMON. Cut my heart in sums!
TITUS. Mine, fifty talents.
TIMON. Tell out my blood.
LUCIUS. Five thousand crowns, my lord.
TIMON. Five thousand drops pays that. What yours, and yours?
FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. My lord—
SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT. My lord—
TIMON. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!
[Exit.]
HORTENSIUS. Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money. These debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes ’em.
[Exeunt.]
Enter Timon and Flavius.
TIMON. They have e’en put my breath from me, the slaves. Creditors? Devils!
FLAVIUS. My dear lord—
TIMON. What if it should be so?
FLAVIUS. My lord—
TIMON. I’ll have it so.—My steward!
FLAVIUS. Here, my lord.
TIMON. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius, all. I’ll once more feast the rascals.
FLAVIUS. O my lord, You only speak from your distracted soul; There is not so much left to furnish out A moderate table.
TIMON. Be it not in thy care. Go, I charge thee, invite them all. Let in the tide Of knaves once more. My cook and I’ll provide.
[Exeunt.]
Act III, Scene V — The same. The senate house
Enter three Senators at one door, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants.
FIRST SENATOR. My lord, you have my voice to ’t. The fault’s Bloody. ’Tis necessary he should die. Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
SECOND SENATOR. Most true, the law shall bruise ’em.
ALCIBIADES. Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!
FIRST SENATOR. Now, captain?
ALCIBIADES. I am a humble suitor to your virtues, For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stepped into the law, which is past depth To those that without heed do plunge into’t. He is a man, setting his fate aside, Of comely virtues, Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice— An honour in him which buys out his fault— But with a noble fury and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touched to death, He did oppose his foe; And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave his anger, ere ’twas spent, As if he had but proved an argument.
FIRST SENATOR. You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair. Your words have took such pains as if they laboured To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling Upon the head of valour, which indeed Is valour misbegot and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born. He’s truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne’er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly ’tis to hazard life for ill!
ALCIBIADES. My lord—
FIRST SENATOR. You cannot make gross sins look clear. To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
ALCIBIADES. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me If I speak like a captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to battle And not endure all threats? Sleep upon’t, And let the foes quietly cut their throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? Why, then, women are more valiant That stay at home, if bearing carry it, And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, As you are great, be pitifully good. Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust, But in defence, by mercy, ’tis most just. To be in anger is impiety, But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this.
SECOND SENATOR. You breathe in vain.
ALCIBIADES. In vain? His service done At Lacedaemon and Byzantium Were a sufficient briber for his life.
FIRST SENATOR. What’s that?
ALCIBIADES. Why, I say, my lords, has done fair service And slain in fight many of your enemies. How full of valour did he bear himself In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!
SECOND SENATOR. He has made too much plenty with ’em. He’s a sworn rioter. He has a sin That often drowns him and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no foes, that were enough To overcome him. In that beastly fury, He has been known to commit outrages And cherish factions. ’Tis inferred to us His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
FIRST SENATOR. He dies.
ALCIBIADES. Hard fate! He might have died in war. My lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arm might purchase his own time And be in debt to none, yet, more to move you, Take my deserts to his and join ’em both. And, for I know your reverend ages love Security, I’ll pawn my victories, all My honour, to you upon his good returns. If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receive’t in valiant gore, For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
FIRST SENATOR. We are for law. He dies. Urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
ALCIBIADES. Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, I do beseech you, know me.
SECOND SENATOR. How?
ALCIBIADES. Call me to your remembrances.
THIRD SENATOR. What?
ALCIBIADES. I cannot think but your age has forgot me, It could not else be I should prove so base To sue and be denied such common grace. My wounds ache at you.
FIRST SENATOR. Do you dare our anger? ’Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for ever.
ALCIBIADES. Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish usury, That makes the Senate ugly.
FIRST SENATOR. If, after two days’ shine, Athens contain thee, Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, He shall be executed presently.
[Exeunt Senators.]
ALCIBIADES. Now the gods keep you old enough, that you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you! I’m worse than mad. I have kept back their foes While they have told their money and let out Their coin upon large interest, I myself Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? Is this the balsam that the usuring senate Pours into captains’ wounds? Banishment. It comes not ill. I hate not to be banished. It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens. I’ll cheer up My discontented troops and lay for hearts. ’Tis honour with most lands to be at odds. Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
[Exit.]
Act III, Scene VI — A room of state in Timon’s house
Music. Enter divers Friends at several doors.
FIRST FRIEND. The good time of day to you, sir.
SECOND FRIEND. I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day.
FIRST FRIEND. Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
SECOND FRIEND. It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.
FIRST FRIEND. I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond them, and I must needs appear.
SECOND FRIEND. In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out.
FIRST FRIEND. I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.
SECOND FRIEND. Every man here’s so. What would he have borrowed you?
FIRST FRIEND. A thousand pieces.
SECOND FRIEND. A thousand pieces!
FIRST FRIEND. What of you?
SECOND FRIEND. He sent to me, sir—here he comes.
Enter Timon and Attendants.
TIMON. With all my heart, gentlemen both! And how fare you?
FIRST FRIEND. Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
SECOND FRIEND. The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.
TIMON. [Aside.] Nor more willingly leaves winter, such summer birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay. Feast your ears with the music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o’ th’ trumpet’s sound; we shall to’t presently.
FIRST FRIEND. I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger.
TIMON. O, sir, let it not trouble you.
SECOND FRIEND. My noble lord—
TIMON. Ah, my good friend, what cheer?
SECOND FRIEND. My most honourable lord, I am e’en sick of shame that when your lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.
TIMON. Think not on’t, sir.
SECOND FRIEND. If you had sent but two hours before—
TIMON. Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
[The banquet brought in.]
Come, bring in all together.
SECOND FRIEND. All covered dishes!
FIRST FRIEND. Royal cheer, I warrant you.
THIRD FRIEND. Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.
FIRST FRIEND. How do you? What’s the news?
THIRD FRIEND. Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?
FIRST AND SECOND FRIENDS. Alcibiades banished?
THIRD FRIEND. ’Tis so, be sure of it.
FIRST FRIEND. How, how?
SECOND FRIEND. I pray you, upon what?
TIMON. My worthy friends, will you draw near?
THIRD FRIEND. I’ll tell you more anon. Here’s a noble feast toward.
SECOND FRIEND. This is the old man still.
THIRD FRIEND. Will’t hold, will’t hold?
SECOND FRIEND. It does, but time will—and so—
THIRD FRIEND. I do conceive.
TIMON. Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks: You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts make yourselves praised, but reserve still to give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another; for, were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest of your foes, O gods, the senators of Athens, together with the common lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome. Uncover, dogs, and lap.
[The dishes are uncovered and prove to be full of lukewarm water.]
SOME SPEAK. What does his lordship mean?
SOME OTHER. I know not.
TIMON. May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last, Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries, Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villainy.
[Throws water in their faces.]
Live loathed, and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies, Cap-and-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! Of man and beast the infinite malady Crust you quite o’er! [They stand.] What, dost thou go? Soft! Take thy physic first; thou too, and thou! Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
[He attacks them and forces them out.]
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest. Burn, house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be Of Timon man and all humanity!
[Exit.]
Enter Timon’s Friends, the Senators with other Lords.
FIRST FRIEND. How now, my lords?
SECOND FRIEND. Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?
THIRD FRIEND. Push! Did you see my cap?
FOURTH FRIEND. I have lost my gown.
FIRST FRIEND. He’s but a mad lord, and nought but humours sways him. He gave me a jewel th’ other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see my jewel?
THIRD FRIEND. Did you see my cap?
SECOND FRIEND. Here ’tis.
FOURTH FRIEND. Here lies my gown.
FIRST FRIEND. Let’s make no stay.
SECOND FRIEND. Lord Timon’s mad.
THIRD FRIEND. I feel’t upon my bones.
FOURTH FRIEND. One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
[Exeunt.]
Act IV, Scene I — Without the walls of Athens
Enter Timon.
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 lined 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!— Th’ 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.]
Act IV, Scene II — Athens. A room in 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 picked; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunned poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone.—More of our fellows.
Enter other Servants.
FLAVIUS. All broken implements of a ruined house.
THIRD SERVANT. Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery. That see I by our faces. We are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our bark, And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, Hearing the surges threat. We must all part Into this sea of air.
FLAVIUS. Good fellows all, The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you. Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake Let’s yet be fellows. Let’s shake our heads and say, As ’twere a knell unto our master’s fortune, “We have seen better days.” Let each take some.
[Offering them money.]
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more. Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.
[They embrace and part several ways.]
O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood When man’s worst sin is he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. My dearest lord, blessed to be most accursed, Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord, He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat Of monstrous friends; Nor has he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it. I’ll follow and inquire him out. I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will. Whilst I have gold, I’ll be his steward still.
[Exit.]