ACT I

SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house.

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors

Good day, sir.

I am glad you're well.

I have not seen you long: how goes the world?

It wears, sir, as it grows.

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.

I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.

O, 'tis a worthy lord.

Nay, that's most fix'd.

A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.
Jeweller: I have a jewel here--

O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweller: If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--

[Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have
praised the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.'

'Tis a good form.

Looking at the jewel

And rich: here is a water, look ye.

You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.

A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself and like the current flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?

A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?

Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let's see your piece.

'Tis a good piece.

So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Indifferent.

Admirable: how this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.

It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; is't good?

I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over

How this lord is follow'd!

The senators of Athens: happy man!

Look, more!

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 levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

How shall I understand you?

I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery 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.

I saw them speak together.

Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount
Is rank'd 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 fix'd,
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.

'Tis conceived to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the sleepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

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.

Ay, marry, what of these?

When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

'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 TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following

Imprison'd is he, say you?

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.

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.

Your lordship ever binds him.

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.

All happiness to your honour!

Exit

Enter an old Athenian

Lord Timon, hear me speak.

Freely, good father.

Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.

I have so: what of him?

Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!

Here, at your lordship's service.

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.

Well; what further?

One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o' the 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.

The man is honest.

Therefore he will be, Timon:
His honesty rewards him in itself;
It must not bear my daughter.

Does she love him?

She is young and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

[To LUCILIUS] Love you the maid?

Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

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.

How shall she be endow'd,
if she be mated with an equal husband?

Three talents on the present; in future, all.

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.

Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Humbly I thank your lordship: never may
The state or fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you!

Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian

Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.

Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
or since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencill'd 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.

The gods preserve ye!

Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;
We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.

What, my lord! dispraise?

A more satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.

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.

Well mock'd.

No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.

Look, who comes here: will you be chid?

Enter APEMANTUS

Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship.

He'll spare none.

Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!

Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

Are they not Athenians?

Yes.

Then I repent not.
Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus?

Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name.

Thou art proud, Apemantus.

Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.

Whither art going?

To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

That's a deed thou'lt die for.

Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?

The best, for the innocence.

Wrought he not well that painted it?

He wrought better that made the painter; and yet
he's but a filthy piece of work.

You're a dog.

Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?

Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

No; I eat not lords.

An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies.

O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

That's a lascivious apprehension.

So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.

How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?

Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a
man a doit.

What dost thou think 'tis worth?

Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!

How now, philosopher!

Thou liest.

Art not one?

Yes.

Then I lie not.

Art not a poet?

Yes.

Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou
hast feigned him a worthy fellow.

That's not feigned; he is so.

Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o'
the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.

What, thyself?

Ay.

Wherefore?

That I had no angry wit to be a lord.
Art not thou a merchant?

Ay, Apemantus.

Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

If traffic do it, the gods do it.

Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger

What trumpet's that?

'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.

Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.

Exeunt some Attendants

You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,
Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest

Most welcome, sir!

So, so, there!
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
That there should be small love 'mongst these
sweet knaves,
And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.

Right welcome, sir!
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

Exeunt all except APEMANTUS

Enter two Lords

What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

Time to be honest.

That time serves still.

The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.

Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Why, Apemantus?

Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to
give thee none.

Hang thyself!

No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy
requests to thy friend.

Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass.

Exit

He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

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.

The noblest mind he carries
That ever govern'd man.

Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

I'll keep you company.

Exeunt

SCENE II. A banqueting-room in Timon's house.

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lords, Senators, and VENTIDIUS. Then comes, dropping, after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly, like himself

Most honour'd 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.

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.

A noble spirit!

Nay, my lords,

They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON

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

My lord, we always have confess'd it.

Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not?

O, Apemantus, you are welcome.

No;
You shall not make me welcome:
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

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't, indeed.

Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to
observe; I give thee warning on't.

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.

I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should
ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of
men eat 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 draught, 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 windpipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

Let it flow this way, my good lord.

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.

Eats and drinks

Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a
dinner of friends.

So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat
like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

Would all those fatterers were thine enemies then,
that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em!

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.

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 can 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, e'en made away ere 't can be born!
Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to
forget their faults, I drink to you.

Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.

Joy had the like conception in our eyes
And at that instant like a babe sprung up.

Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.

Much!

Tucket, within

What means that trump?

Enter a Servant

How now?

Please you, my lord, there are certain
ladies most desirous of admittance.

Ladies! what are their wills?

There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which
bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

I pray, let them be admitted.

Enter 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: th' ear,
Taste, touch and smell, pleased from thy tale rise;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:
Music, make their welcome!

Exit Cupid

You see, my lord, how ample you're beloved.

Music. Re-enter Cupid with a mask of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing

Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
They dance! they are mad women.
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 friends' 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

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 entertain'd me with mine own device;
I am to thank you for 't.

My lord, you take us even at the best.

'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold
taking, I doubt me.

Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you:
Please you to dispose yourselves.

Most thankfully, my lord.

Exeunt Cupid and Ladies

Flavius.

My lord?

The little casket bring me hither.

Yes, my lord. More jewels yet!
There is no crossing him in 's humour;

Aside

Else I should tell him,--well, i' faith I should,
When all's spent, he 'ld be cross'd then, an he could.
'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.

Exit

Where be our men?

Here, my lord, in readiness.

Our horses!

Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket

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.

I am so far already in your gifts,--

So are we all.

Enter a Servant

My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate
Newly alighted, and come to visit you.

They are fairly welcome.

I beseech your honour,
Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Near! why then, another time I'll hear thee:
I prithee, let's be provided to show them
entertainment.

[Aside] I scarce know how.

Enter a Second Servant

May it please your honour, Lord Lucius,
Out of his free love, hath presented to you
Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.

I shall accept them fairly; let the presents
Be worthily entertain'd.

Enter a third Servant

How now! what news?

Please you, my lord, that honourable
gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company
to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour
two brace of greyhounds.

I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
Not without fair reward.

[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

You do yourselves
Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits:
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.

With more than common thanks I will receive it.

O, he's the very soul of bounty!

And now I remember, my lord, you gave
Good words the other day of a bay courser
I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it.

O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.

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.

O, none so welcome.

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 pitch'd field.

Ay, defiled land, my lord.

We are so virtuously bound--

And so
Am I to you.

So infinitely endear'd--

All to you. Lights, more lights!

The best of happiness,
Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!

Ready for his friends.

Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON

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 court'sies.

Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be
good to thee.

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 givest so long,
Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in
paper shortly: what need these feasts, pomps and
vain-glories?

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

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. A Senator's house.

Enter Senator, with papers in his hand

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 found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say!

Enter CAPHIS

Here, sir; what is your pleasure?

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 toss'd and turn'd 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.

I go, sir.

'I go, sir!'--Take the bonds along with you,
And have the dates in contempt.

I will, sir.

Go.

Exeunt

SCENE II. The same. A hall in Timon's house.

Enter FLAVIUS, with many bills in his hand

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

Good even, Varro: what,
You come for money?
Varro's Servant Is't not your business too?

It is: and yours too, Isidore?
Isidore's Servant It is so.

Would we were all discharged!
Varro's Servant I fear it.

Here comes the lord.

Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, & c

So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again,
My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will?

My lord, here is a note of certain dues.

Dues! Whence are you?

Of Athens here, my lord.

Go to my steward.

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.

Mine honest friend,
I prithee, but repair to me next morning.

Nay, good my lord,--

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.

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.

Give me breath.
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on;
I'll wait upon you instantly.

Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords

To FLAVIUS

Come hither: pray you,
How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd
With clamourous demands of date-broke bonds,
And the detention of long-since-due debts,
Against my honour?

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.

Do so, my friends. See them well entertain'd.

Exit

Pray, draw near.

Exit

Enter APEMANTUS and Fool

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?

Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
Varro's Servant I speak not to thee.

No,'tis to thyself.

To the Fool

Come away.
Isidore's Servant There's the fool hangs on your back already.

No, thou stand'st single, thou'rt not on him yet.

Where's the fool now?

He last asked the question. Poor rogues, and
usurers' men! bawds between gold and want!

What are we, Apemantus?

Asses.

Why?

That you ask me what you are, and do not know
yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool.

How do you, gentlemen?

Gramercies, good fool: how does your mistress?

She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens
as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth!

Good! gramercy.

Enter Page

Look you, here comes my mistress' page.

[To the Fool] Why, how now, captain! what do you
in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?

Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer
thee profitably.

Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of
these letters: I know not which is which.

Canst not read?

No.

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't
die a bawd.

Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a
dog's death. Answer not; I am gone.

Exit

E'en so thou outrunnest grace. Fool, I will go with
you to Lord Timon's.

Will you leave me there?

If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers?

Ay; would they served us!

So would I,--as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.

Are you three usurers' men?

Ay, 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' house
merrily, and go away sadly: the reason of this?
Varro's Servant I could render one.

Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster
and a knave; which not-withstanding, thou shalt be
no less esteemed.
Varro's Servant What is a whoremaster, 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 moe 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.

Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much foolery as
I have, so much wit thou lackest.

That answer might have become Apemantus.

Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon.

Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS

Come with me, fool, come.

I do not always follow lover, elder brother and
woman; sometime the philosopher.

Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool

Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with you anon.

Exeunt Servants

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?

You would not hear me,
At many leisures I proposed.

Go to:
Perchance some single vantages you took.
When my indispos ition put you back:
And that unaptness made your minister,
Thus to excuse yourself.

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 the authority of manners, pray'd you
To hold your hand more close: I did endure
Not seldom, nor no slight cheques, 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.

Let all my land be sold.

'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?

To Lacedaemon did my land extend.

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!

You tell me true.

If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood,
Call me before the exactest auditors
And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me,
When all our offices have been oppress'd
With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept
With drunken spilth of wine, when every room
Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy,
I have retired me to a wasteful cock,
And set mine eyes at flow.

Prithee, no more.

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 couch'd.

Come, sermon me no further:
No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd 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.

Assurance bless your thoughts!

And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd,
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 other Servants

My lord? my lord?

I will dispatch you severally; you to Lord Lucius;
to Lord Lucullus you: I hunted with his honour
to-day: 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.

As you have said, my lord.

[Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? hum!

Go you, sir, to the senators--
Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
Deserved this hearing--bid 'em send o' the instant
A thousand talents to me.

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.

Is't true? can't be?

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 wish'd--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.

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 fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.

To a Servant

Go to Ventidius.

To FLAVIUS

Prithee, be not sad,
Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak.
No blame belongs to thee.

To Servant

Ventidius lately
Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd
Into a great estate: when he was poor,
Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends,
I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from me;
Bid him suppose some good necessity
Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd
With those five talents.

Exit Servant

To FLAVIUS

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.

I would I could not think it: that thought is
bounty's foe;
Being free itself, it thinks all others so.

Exeunt

ACT III

SCENE I. A room in Lucullus' house.

FLAMINIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to him

I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.

I thank you, sir.

Enter LUCULLUS

Here's my lord.

[Aside] One of Lord Timon's men? a gift, I
warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver
basin and ewer to-night. Flaminius, honest
Flaminius; you are very respectively welcome, sir.
Fill me some wine.

Exit Servants

And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted
gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord
and master?

His health is well sir.

I am right glad that his health is well, sir: and
what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty 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.

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.

Re-enter Servant, with wine

Please your lordship, here is the wine.

Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee.

Your lordship speaks your pleasure.

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
knowest well enough, although thou comest 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 sawest me not. Fare thee well.

Is't possible the world should so much differ,
And we alive that lived? Fly, damned baseness,
To him that worships thee!

Throwing the money back

Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.

Exit

May these add to the number that may scald thee!
Let moulten 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 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 turn'd 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

SCENE II. A public place.

Enter LUCILIUS, with three Strangers

Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very good friend, and
an honourable gentleman.

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.

Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot want for money.

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.

How!

I tell you, denied, my lord.

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

See, by good hap, yonder's my lord;
I have sweat to see his honour. My honoured lord,--

To LUCIUS

Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well:
commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very
exquisite friend.

May it please your honour, my lord hath sent--

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?

Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord;
requesting your lordship to supply his instant use
with so many talents.

I know his lordship is but merry with me;
He cannot want fifty five hundred talents.

But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
If his occasion were not virtuous,
I should not urge it half so faithfully.

Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?

Upon my soul,'tis true, sir.

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 honoured! 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't 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?

Yes, sir, I shall.

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

Do you observe this, Hostilius?

Ay, too well.

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.

Religion groans at it.

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 return'd 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

SCENE III. A room in Sempronius' house.

Enter SEMPRONIUS, and a Servant of TIMON's

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 redeem'd from prison: all these
Owe their estates unto him.

My lord,
They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for
They have au denied him.

How! have they denied him?
Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
And does he send to me? Three? hum!
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 the 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 occasion might have woo'd 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 its last? No:
So it may prove an argument of laughter
To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a fool.
I'ld 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

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 employ'd
Now to guard sure their master.
And this is all a liberal course allows;
Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.

Exit

SCENE IV. The same. A hall in Timon's house.

Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of LUCIUS, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, and other Servants of TIMON's creditors, waiting his coming out

Varro's

Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.

The like to you kind Varro.

Lucius!
What, do we meet together?
Lucilius' Servant Ay, and I think
One business does command us all; for mine Is money.

So is theirs and ours.

Enter PHILOTUS

Lucilius' Servant And Sir Philotus too!

Good day at once.
Lucilius' Servant Welcome, good brother.
What do you think the hour?

Labouring for nine.
Lucilius' Servant So much?

Is not my lord seen yet?
Lucilius' Servant Not yet.

I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.
Lucilius' Servant Ay, but the days are wax'd 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.

I am of your fear for that.

I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
Your lord sends now for money.

Most true, he does.

And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
For which I wait for money.

It is against my heart.
Lucilius' Servant 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.

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.
Varro's

Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours?
Lucilius' Servant Five thousand mine.
Varro's

'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sun,
Your master's confidence was above mine;
Else, surely, his had equall'd.
Enter FLAMINIUS.

One of Lord Timon's men.
Lucilius' Servant Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my lord ready to
come forth?

No, indeed, he is not.

We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much.

I need not tell him that; he knows you are too diligent.

Exit

Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled

Lucilius' Servant Ha! is not that his steward muffled so?
He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.

Do you hear, sir?
Varro's

By your leave, sir,--

What do ye ask of me, my friend?

We wait for certain money here, sir.

Ay,
If money were as certain as your waiting,
'Twere sure enough.
Why then preferr'd 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 the 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.
Lucilius' Servant Ay, but this answer will not serve.

If 'twill not serve,'tis not so base as you;
For you serve knaves.

Exit

Varro's

How! what does his cashiered worship mutter?
Varro's

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

O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer.

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.
Lucilius' Servant: 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.

Good gods!

We cannot take this for answer, sir.

[Within] Servilius, help! My lord! my lord!

Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following

What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
Have I been ever free, and must my house
Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?
The place which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
Lucilius' Servant Put in now, Titus.

My lord, here is my bill.
Lucilius' Servant Here's mine.

And mine, my lord.
Both
Varro's Servants And ours, my lord.

All our bills.

Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.
Lucilius' Servant Alas, my lord,-

Cut my heart in sums.

Mine, fifty talents.

Tell out my blood.
Lucilius' Servant Five thousand crowns, my lord.

Five thousand drops pays that.
What yours?--and yours?
Varro's

My lord,--
Varro's

My lord,--

Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!

Exit

'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

Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS

They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves.
Creditors? devils!

My dear lord,--

What if it should be so?

My lord,--

I'll have it so. My steward!

Here, my lord.

So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius:
All, sirrah, all:
I'll once more feast the rascals.

O my lord,
You only speak from your distracted soul;
There is not so much left, to furnish out
A moderate table.

Be't 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

SCENE V. The same. The senate-house. The Senate sitting.

My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's
Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die:
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

Most true; the law shall bruise him.

Enter ALCIBIADES, with Attendants

Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!

Now, captain?

I am an 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 stepp'd 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 touch'd 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.

You undergo too strict a paradox,
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:
Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd
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!

My lord,--

You cannot make gross sins look clear:
To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

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.

You breathe in vain.

In vain! his service done
At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
Were a sufficient briber for his life.

What's that?

I say, my lords, he 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!

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 inferr'd to us,
His days are foul and his drink dangerous.

He dies.

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 honours 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.

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.

Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.

How!

Call me to your remembrances.

What!

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.

Do you dare our anger?
'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect;
We banish thee for ever.

Banish me!
Banish your dotage; banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly.

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

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 banish'd;
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

SCENE VI. The same. A banqueting-room in Timon's house.

Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. Enter divers Lords, Senators and others, at several doors

The good time of day to you, sir.

I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord
did but try us this other day.

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.

It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

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.

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.

I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all
things go.

Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of
you?

A thousand pieces.

A thousand pieces!

What of you?

He sent to me, sir,--Here he comes.

Enter TIMON and Attendants

With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you?

Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

The swallow follows not summer more willing than we
your lordship.

[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' the
trumpet's sound; we shall to 't presently.

I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship
that I returned you an empty messenger.

O, sir, let it not trouble you.

My noble lord,--

Ah, my good friend, what cheer?

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.

Think not on 't, sir.

If you had sent but two hours before,--

Let it not cumber your better remembrance.

The banquet brought in

Come, bring in all together.

All covered dishes!

Royal cheer, I warrant you.

Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield
it.

How do you? What's the news?

Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?

Alcibiades banished!

'Tis so, be sure of it.

How! how!

I pray you, upon what?

My worthy friends, will you draw near?

I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward.

This is the old man still.

Will 't hold? will 't hold?

It does: but time will--and so--

I do conceive.

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 fees, 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 seen to be full of warm water

What does his lordship mean?

I know not.

May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends I 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 villany.

Throwing the 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! What, dost thou go?
Soft! take thy physic first--thou too--and thou;--
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.

Throws the dishes at them, and drives 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

Re-enter the Lords, Senators, & c

How now, my lords!

Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury?

Push! did you see my cap?

I have lost my gown.

He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour 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?

Did you see my cap?

Here 'tis.

Here lies my gown.

Let's make no stay.

Lord Timon's mad.

I feel 't upon my bones.

One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt

ACT IV

SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens.

Enter TIMON

Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall,
That girdlest 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' the 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' the 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 the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
at their society, as their friendship, may
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
The 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. A room in Timon's house.

Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants

Hear you, master steward, where's our master?
Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.

Such a house broke!
So noble a master fall'n! All gone! and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,