Introductory matter
note
-- 501 --
INTRODUCTION.
Shakespeare is supposed not to have written “Timon of Athens”
until late in his theatrical career, and Malone has fixed upon 1610 as
the probable date when it came from his pen. We know of no extrinsic
evidence to confirm or contradict this opinion. The tragedy was
printed in 1623, in the folio edited by Heminge and Condell; and
having been inserted in the Registers of the Stationers' Company as
a play “not formerly entered to other men,” we may infer that it
had not previously come from the press. The versification is remarkably
loose and irregular, but it is made to appear more so by
the manner in which it was originally printed. The object, especially
near the close, seems to have been to make the drama occupy
as much space as could be conveniently filled: consequently, many
of the lines are arbitrarily divided into two: the drama extends to
p. 98 in the folio, in the division of “Tragedies;” what would have
been p. 99, if it had been figured, contains a list of the characters, and
what would have been p. 100 is entirely blank: the next leaf, being
the first page of “Julius Cæsar,” is numbered 109. It is possible
that another printer began with “Julius Cæsar,” and that a miscalculation
was made as to the space which would be occupied by
“Coriolanus,” “Titus Andronicus,” “Romeo and Juliet,” and
“Timon of Athens.” The interval between what would have been
p. 100 of the folio of 1623, and p. 109, which immediately follows
it, may at all events be in this way explained.
There is an apparent want of finish about some portions of
“Timon of Athens,” while others are elaborately wrought. In his
Lectures in 1815, Coleridge dwelt upon this discordance of style at considerable
length, but we find no trace of it in the published fragments of
his Lectures in 1818. Coleridge said, in 1815, that he saw the same
vigorous hand at work throughout, and gave no countenance to the
notion, that any parts of a previously existing play had been retained
in “Timon of Athens,” as it had come down to us. It was Shakespeare's
throughout; and, as originally written, he apprehended that
it was one of the author's most complete performances: the players,
however, he felt convinced, had done the poet much injustice; and
he especially instanced (as indeed he did in 1818) the clumsy,
“clap-trap” blow at the Puritans in Act iii. sc. 3, as an interpolation
by the actor of the part of Timon's servant. Coleridge accounted for
-- 502 --
the ruggedness and inequality of the versification upon the same
principle, and he was persuaded that only a corrupt and imperfect
copy had come to the hands of the player-editors of the folio of
1623. Why the manuscript of “Timon of Athens” should have
been more mutilated, than that from which other dramas were printed
for the first time in the same volume, was a question into which he
did not enter. His admiration of some parts of the tragedy was
unbounded; but he maintained that it was, on the whole, a painful
and disagreeable production, because it gave only a disadvantageous
picture of human nature, very inconsistent with what, he firmly
believed, was our great poet's real view of the characters of his fellow
creatures. He said that the whole piece was a bitter dramatic
satire,—a species of writing in which Shakespeare had shown, as in
all other kinds, that he could reach the very highest point of excellence.
Coleridge could not help suspecting that the subject might
have been taken up under some temporary feeling of vexation and
disappointment.
How far this notion is well founded can of course be matter of
mere speculation; but a whole play could hardly be composed under
a transient fit of irritation, and to us it seems more likely, that in
this instance, as in others, Shakespeare adopted the story because
he thought he could make it acceptable as a dramatic representation.
We agree with Farmer in thinking that there probably existed
some earlier popular play of which Timon was the hero. The
novels in Paynter's “Palace of Pleasure” were the common property
of the poets of the day; and “the strange and beastly nature of
Timon of Athens” is inserted in the first volume of that collection,
which came out before 1567. Paynter professes to have derived his
brief materials from the life of Marc Antony, in Plutarch; but Sir
Thomas North's translation having made its appearance in 1579,
all the circumstances may have been familiar to most readers.
True it is, that Shakespeare does not appear to have followed these
authorities at all closely, and there may have been some version of
Lucian then current, with which we are now unacquainted. To
these sources dramatists preceding Shakespeare may have resorted;
and we find Timon so often mentioned by writers of the period, that
his habits and disposition, perhaps, had also been made known
through the medium of the stage. Shakespeare himself introduces
Timon into “Love's Labour's Lost,” (Vol. ii. p. 337,) which, in its
original shape, must certainly have been one of our great dramatist's
early plays. In Edward Guilpin's collection of Epigrams and
Satires, published, under the title of “Skialetheia,” in 1598, we
meet with the following line, (Epigr. 52,) which seems to refer to
some scene in which Timon had been represented:—
“Like hate-man Timon in his cell he sits:”
-- 503 --
And in the anonymous play of “Jack Drum's Entertainment,”
printed in 1601, one of the characters uses these expressions:—
“But if all the brewers' jades in the town can drag me from the love of
myself, they shall do more than e'er the seven wise men of Greece could. Come,
come; now I'll be as sociable as Timon of Athens.”
We know also that there existed about that date a play upon the
subject of Timon of Athens. The original manuscript of it is in the
library of the Rev. Alexander Dyce, who has recently superintended
an impression of it for the Shakespeare Society. He gives it as his
opinion, that it was “intended for the amusement of an academic
audience,” and although the epilogue may be considered rather of a
contrary complexion, the learned editor is probably right: it is,
however, nearly certain that it was acted; and although it will not
bear a moment's comparison with Shakespeare's “Timon of Athens,”
similar incidents and persons are contained in both. Thus, Timon
is in the commencement rich, bountiful, and devoured by flatterers:
he becomes poor, and is at once deserted by all but his faithful
steward;—but before he abandons Athens in disgust, he invites his
parasites to a last banquet, where he gives them stones painted to
resemble artichokes, which he flings at them as he drives them out
of his hall. Shakespeare represents Timon as regaling his guests
with warm water; but it is very remarkable, that at the end of his
mock-banquet scene, after the hero has quitted the stage, leaving
certain lords behind him, upon whom he had thrown the warm
water, the following dialogue occurs:—
“1 Lord.
Let's make no stay.
2 Lord.
Lord Timon's mad.
3 Lord.
I feel 't upon my bones.
4 Lord.
One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.”
Shakespeare's Timon had cast no “stones” at his guests, and the above
extract reads exactly as if it had formed part of some play in which
stones (as in the “Timon” edited by the Rev. A. Dyce) had been
employed instead of warm water. Unless stones had been thrown,
there could, as Steevens observes, be no propriety in the mention of
them by the fourth Lord; and though Shakespeare may not have seen
the academic play to which we have alluded, a fragment may by accident
have found its way into his “Timon of Athens,” which belonged
to some other drama, where the banquet-scene was differently conducted.
It is just possible that our great dramatist, at some subsequent
date, altered his original draught, and by oversight left in the
rhyming couplet with which the third Act concludes. We need not
advert to other resemblances between the academic play and “Timon
of Athens,” because, by the liberality of the possessor of the manuscript,
it may be now said to have become public property.
-- 504 --
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
TIMON, a noble Athenian.
LUCIUS, A flattering Lord.
LUCULLUS, A flattering Lord.
SEMPRONIUS, A flattering Lord.
VENTIDUS, one of Timon's false Friends.
APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian Captain.
FLAVIUS, Steward to Timon.
FLAMINIUS, Servant to Timon.
LUCILIUS, Servant to Timon.
SERVILIUS, Servant to Timon.
CAPHIS, Servant to one of Timon's Creditors.
PHILOTUS, Servant to one of Timon's Creditors.
TITUS, Servant to one of Timon's Creditors.
LUCIUS, Servant to one of Timon's Creditors.
HORTENSIUS, Servant to one of Timon's Creditors.
Servants of Varro, Ventidius, and Isidore: two of Timon's Creditors. [Varro's Servant 1], [Varro's Servant 2], [Ventidius's Servant], [Isidore's Servant]
Cupid and Maskers [Lady 1], [Ladies].
Three Strangers. [Stranger 1], [Stranger 2], [Stranger 3]
Poet
Painter
Jeweller
Merchant
An old Athenian [Old Athenian].
A Page.
A Fool.
PHRYNIA, Mistress to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA, Mistress to Alcibiades.
Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and Attendants.
[Hortensius's Servant], [Lucius's Servant], [Lord 1], [Lord 2], [Lord 3], [Lord 4], [Soldier], [Thief 1], [Thief 2],
[Thief 3], [Servant], [Servant 2], [Servant 3], [Servants], [Messenger]
SCENE, Athens; and the Woods adjoining.
-- 505 --
TIMON OF ATHENS.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Others, at several Doors.
Poet.
Good day, sir.
Pain.
I am glad y'are well.
Poet.
I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
Pain.
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 conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain.
I know them both: th' other's a jeweller.
Mer.
O! 'tis a worthy lord.
Jew.
Nay, that's most fix'd.
Mer.
A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes1 note.
Jew.
I have a jewel here—
Mer.
O! pray, let's see't. For the lord Timon, sir?
Jew.
If he will touch the estimate; but, for that—
-- 506 --
Poet.
“When we for recompence2 note have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.”
Mer.
'Tis a good form.
Jew.
And rich: here is a water, look ye.
Pain.
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.
Poet.
A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes3 note
From whence 'tis nourish'd: 11Q0946 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?
Pain.
A picture, sir.—When comes your book forth?
Poet.
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let's see your piece.
Pain.
'Tis a good piece.
Poet.
So 'tis: this comes off well, and excellent.
Pain.
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 the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
Pain.
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.
-- 507 --
Enter certain Senators, who pass over the Stage.
Pain.
How this lord is follow'd!
Poet.
The senators of Athens:—happy men!
Pain.
Look, more!
Poet.
You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.
I have in this rough work shap'd 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 11Q09474 note: 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.
Pain.
How shall I understand you?
Poet.
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-fac'd 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.
Pain.
I saw them speak together.
Poet.
Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: 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,
-- 508 --
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.
Pain.
'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
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 air5 note.
Pain.
Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet.
When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down6 note,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain.
'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.
-- 509 --
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended; the Servant of
Ventidius talking with him7 note.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
Ven. Serv.
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.
Tim.
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.
Ven. Serv.
Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim.
Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me.—
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.—Fare you well.
Ven. Serv.
All happiness to your honour!
[Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath.
Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath.
Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim.
I have so: what of him?
Old Ath.
Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
Tim.
Attends he here, or no?—Lucilius!
Enter Lucilius.
Luc.
Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath.
This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature,
-- 510 --
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift,
And my estate deserves an heir, more rais'd
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim.
Well; what farther?
Old Ath.
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 pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
Myself have spoke in vain.
Tim.
The man is honest.
Old Ath.
Therefore he will be, Timon:
His honesty rewards him in itself;
It must not bear my daughter.
Tim.
Does she love him?
Old Ath.
She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.
Tim. [To Lucilius.]
Love you the maid?
Luc.
Ay, my good lord; and she accepts of it.
Old Ath.
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.
Tim.
How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath.
Three talents on the present; in future all.
Tim.
This gentleman of mine hath serv'd 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 Ath.
Most noble lord,
-- 511 --
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Tim.
My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.
Luc.
Humbly I thank your lordship. Never may
That state or fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not ow'd to you!
[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian.
Poet.
Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim.
I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
Go not away.—What have you there, my friend?
Pain.
A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.
Tim.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencil'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 farther from me.
Pain.
The gods preserve you!
Tim.
Well fare you, gentleman8 note: give me your hand;
We must needs dine together.—Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew.
What, my lord! dispraise?
Tim.
A mere satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.
Jew.
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.
-- 512 --
Tim.
Well mock'd.
Mer.
No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.
Tim.
Look, who comes here. Will you be chid?
Enter Apemantus.
Jew.
We'll bear, with your lordship.
Mer.
He'll spare none.
Tim.
Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.
Apem.
Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
Tim.
Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.
Apem.
Are they not Athenians?
Tim.
Yes.
Apem.
Then I repent not.
Jew.
You know me, Apemantus.
Apem.
Thou know'st, I do; I call'd thee by thy
name.
Tim.
Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem.
Of nothing so much, as that I am not like
Timon.
Tim.
Whither art going?
Apem.
To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
Tim.
That's a deed thou'lt die for.
Apem.
Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim.
How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
Apem.
The best, for the innocence.
Tim.
Wrought he not well that painted it?
Apem.
He wrought better that made the painter;
and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain.
Y'are a dog.
Apem.
Thy mother's of my generation: what's she,
if I be a dog?
Tim.
Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
-- 513 --
Apem.
No; I eat not lords.
Tim.
An thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.
Apem.
O! they eat lords; so they come by great
bellies.
Tim.
That's a lascivious apprehension.
Apem.
So thou apprehend'st it. Take it for thy labour.
Tim.
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apem.
Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not
cost9 note a man a doit.
Tim.
What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem.
Not worth my thinking.—How now, poet!
Poet.
How now, philosopher!
Apem.
Thou liest.
Poet.
Art not one?
Apem.
Yes.
Poet.
Then, I lie not.
Apem.
Art not a poet?
Poet.
Yes.
Apem.
Then, thou liest: look in thy last work, where
thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet.
That's not feign'd; he is so.
Apem.
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!
Tim.
What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Apem.
Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord
with my heart.
Tim.
What, thyself?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
Wherefore?
Apem.
That I had no angry wit to be a lord 11Q094810 note.—Art
not thou a merchant?
Mer.
Ay, Apemantus.
-- 514 --
Apem.
Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
Mer.
If traffic do it, the gods do it.
Apem.
Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!
Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant.
Tim.
What trumpet's that?
Serv.
'Tis Alcibiades, and
Some twenty horse, all of companionship.
Tim.
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; and when dinner's done1 note
Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.—
Enter Alcibiades, with his Company.
Most welcome, sir!
Apem.
So, so, there.—
Aches contract and starve your supple joints2 note!—
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.
Alcib.
Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.
Tim.
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.
1 Lord.
What time o' day is't, Apemantus?
-- 515 --
Apem.
Time to be honest.
1 Lord.
That time serves still.
Apem.
The most accursed thou, that still omit'st it.
2 Lord.
Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.
Apem.
Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.
2 Lord.
Fare thee well; fare thee well.
Apem.
Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
2 Lord.
Why, Apemantus?
Apem.
Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean
to give thee none.
1 Lord.
Hang thyself.
Apem.
No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make
thy requests to thy friend.
2 Lord.
Away, unpeaceable dog! or I'll spurn thee hence.
Apem.
I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass.
[Exit.
1 Lord.
He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.
2 Lord.
He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
Is but his steward: no meed3 note
, but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.
1 Lord.
The noblest mind he carries,
That ever govern'd man.
2 Lord.
Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
1 Lord.
I'll keep you company.
[Exeunt.
-- 516 --
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: then, enter Timon,
Alcibiades, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius, and
other Athenian Senators, with Ventidius, whom Timon
redeemed from prison, and Attendants: then comes,
dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly, like himself.
Ven.
Most honour'd Timon, it hath pleas'd 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 deriv'd liberty.
Tim.
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.
Ven.
A noble spirit!
Tim.
Nay, my lords,
Ceremony was but devis'd 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.
1 Lord.
My lord, we always have confess'd it.
-- 517 --
Apem.
Ho, ho, confess'd it? hang'd it, have you not?
Tim.
O, Apemantus!—you are welcome.
Apem.
No, you shall not make me welcome:
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
Tim.
Fie! thou'rt a churl: you have 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 angry4 note.
Go, let him have a table by himself;
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for't, indeed.
Apem.
Let me stay at thine apperil5 note, Timon:
I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.
Tim.
I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian,
therefore, welcome. I myself would have no power;
pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.
Apem.
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 them 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, and pledges the breath
of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill
him: it has been proved. If I were a huge man, I
should fear to drink at meals;
-- 518 --
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats6 note.
Tim.
My lord, in heart7 note; and let the health go round.
2 Lord.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem.
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. 11Q0949
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 heart8 note, Apemantus!
Tim.
Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field
now.
-- 519 --
Alcib.
My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
Tim.
You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies,
than a dinner of friends.
Alcib.
So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's
no meat like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such
a feast.
Apem.
'Would all those flatterers were thine enemies
then, that then thou might'st kill 'em, and bid me to
'em9 note.
1 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.
Tim.
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 you
not 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, e'en made away ere 't can
be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks:
to forget their faults, I drink to you.
Apem.
Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon.
-- 520 --
2 Lord.
Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
And at that instant like a babe sprung up.
Apem.
Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.
3 Lord.
I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.
Apem.
Much!
[Tucket sounded.
Tim.
What means that trump?—How now!
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies
most desirous of admittance.
Tim.
Ladies! What are their wills?
Serv.
There comes with them a forerunner, my lord,
which bears that office to signify their pleasures.
Tim.
I pray, let them be admitted.
Enter Cupid.
Cup.
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. The ear,
Taste, touch, smell, pleas'd from thy table rise10 note
;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Tim.
They are welcome all. Let them have kind admittance:
Music, make their welcome.
[Exit Cupid.
1 Lord.
You see, my lord, how ample y'are belov'd.
-- 521 --
Music. Re-enter Cupid, with a masque of Ladies as
Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing, and playing.
Apem.
Hey 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.
Tim.
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 lustre1 note,
And entertain'd me with mine own device;
I am to thank you for it.
1 Lady.
My lord2 note, you take us even at the best.
-- 522 --
Apem.
'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not
hold taking, I doubt me.
Tim.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet
Attends you: please you to dispose yourselves.
All Lad.
Most thankfully, my lord.
[Exeunt Cupid, and Ladies.
Tim.
Flavius!
Flav.
My lord.
Tim.
The little casket bring me hither.
Flav.
Yes, my lord. [Aside.] More jewels yet!
There is no crossing him in his humour;
Else I should tell him,—well,—i' faith, I should,
When all's spent, he'd 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, and returns with the Casket.
1 Lord.
Where be our men?
Serv.
Here, my lord, in readiness.
2 Lord.
Our horses!
Tim.
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.
1 Lord.
I am so far already in your gifts,—
All.
So are we all.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate
newly alighted, and come to visit you.
Tim.
They are fairly welcome.
Flav.
I beseech your honour,
Vouchsafe me a word: it does concern you near.
Tim.
Near? why then another time I'll hear thee:
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to show them entertainment.
Flav.
I scarce know how.
[Aside.
-- 523 --
Enter another Servant.
2 Serv.
May it please your honour, lord Lucius,
Out of his free love, hath presented to you
Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.
Tim.
I shall accept them fairly: let the presents
Enter a third Servant.
Be worthily entertain'd.—How now! what news?
3 Serv.
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.
Tim.
I'll hunt with him; and let them be receiv'd,
Not without fair reward.
Flav. [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 forc'd out!
Happier is he that has no friend to feed
Than such as do even enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord.
[Exit.
Tim.
You do yourselves
Much wrong: you bate too much of your own merits.
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
2 Lord.
With more than common thanks I will receive it.
3 Lord.
O! he's the very soul of bounty.
-- 524 --
Tim.
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 lik'd it.
2 Lord.
O! I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.
Tim.
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.
Tim.
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.
Alcib.
Ay, defil'd land, my lord3 note.
1 Lord.
We are so virtuously bound,—
Tim.
And so
Am I to you.
2 Lord.
So infinitely endear'd,—
Tim.
All to you.—Lights! more lights!
1 Lord.
The best of happiness,
Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon.
Tim.
Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt Alcibiades, Lords, &c.
Apem.
What a coil's here!
Serving of becks, and jutting out of bums!
I doubt whether their legs4 note be worth the sums
-- 525 --
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.
Tim.
Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I'd be good to thee.
Apem.
No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd
too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and
then thou would'st sin the faster. Thou giv'st so long,
Timon, I fear me, thou wilt give away thyself in paper
shortly: what need these feasts, pomps, and vain
glories?
Tim.
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.
Apem.
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.
The Same. A Room in a Senator's House.
Enter a Senator, with Papers in his Hand.
Sen.
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,
-- 526 --
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 safety5 note. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say!
Enter Caphis.
Caph.
Here, sir: what is your pleasure?
Sen.
Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord Timon;
Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'd
With slight denial; nor then silenc'd, when—
“Commend me to your master”—and the cap
Plays in the right hand, thus;—but tell him6 note,
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 phœnix. Get you gone.
Caph.
I go, sir.
Sen.
Ay, go, sir.—Take the bonds along with you,
And have the dates in compt7 note.
-- 527 --
Caph.
I will, sir.
Sen.
Go.
[Exeunt.
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. 11Q0950
What shall be done? He will not hear, till feel.
I must be round with him8 note, now he comes from hunting.
Fie, fie, fie, fie!
Enter Caphis, and the Servants of Isidore and Varro.
Caph.
Good even, Varro9 note. What!
You come for money?
Var. Serv.
Is't not your business too?
Caph.
It is.—And yours too, Isidore?
Isid. Serv.
It is so.
Caph.
Would we were all discharg'd!
Var. Serv.
I fear it.
Caph.
Here comes the lord.
Enter Timon, Alcibiades, and Lords, &c.
Tim.
So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again,
-- 528 --
My Alcibiades.—With me! what is your will?
Caph.
My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
Tim.
Dues! Whence are you?
Caph.
Of Athens here, my lord.
Tim.
Go to my steward.
Caph.
Please it your lordship, he hath put me off
To the succession of new days this month:
My master is awak'd 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.
Tim.
Mine honest friend,
I pr'ythee, but repair to me next morning.
Caph.
Nay, good my lord,—
Tim.
Contain thyself, good friend.
Var. Serv.
One Varro's servant, my good lord,—
Isid. Serv.
From Isidore:
He humbly prays your speedy payment,—
Caph.
If you did know, my lord, my master's wants,—
Var. Serv.
'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks,
And past,—
Isid. Serv.
Your steward puts me off, my lord;
And I am sent expressly to your lordship.
Tim.
Give me breath.—
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on;
[Exeunt Alcibiades and Lords.
I'll wait upon you instantly.—Come hither: pray you,
[To Flavius.
How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd
With clamorous demands of debt, broken bonds1 note,
And the detention of long-since-due debts,
Against my honour?
-- 529 --
Flav.
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.
Tim.
Do so, my friends.
See them well entertain'd.
[Exit Timon.
Flav.
Pray, draw near.
[Exit Flavius.
Enter Apemantus and a Fool.
Caph.
Stay, stay; here comes the fool with Apemantus:
let's have some sport with 'em.
Var. Serv.
Hang him, he'll abuse us.
Isid. Serv.
A plague upon him, dog!
Var. Serv.
How dost, fool?
Apem.
Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
Var. Serv.
I speak not to thee.
Apem.
No; 'tis to thyself.—Come away.
[To the Fool.
Isid. Serv. [To Var. Serv.]
There's the fool hangs
on your back already.
Apem.
No, thou stand'st single; thou'rt not on him
yet.
Caph.
Where's the fool now?
Apem.
He last asked the question.—Poor rogues,
and usurers' men; bawds between gold and want.
All Serv.
What are we, Apemantus?
Apem.
Asses.
All Serv.
Why?
Apem.
That you ask me what you are, and do not
know yourselves.—Speak to 'em, fool.
Fool.
How do you, gentlemen?
All Serv.
Gramercies2 note, good fool. How does your
mistress?
-- 530 --
Fool.
She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens
as you are. Would, we could see you at Corinth!
Apem.
Good: gramercy.
Enter Page.
Fool.
Look you, here comes my mistress' page3 note.
Page. [To the Fool.]
Why, how now, captain! what
do you in this wise company?—How dost thou, Apemantus?
Apem.
Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I
might answer thee profitably.
Page.
Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the superscription
of these letters: I know not which is which.
Apem.
Canst not read?
Page.
No.
Apem.
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.
Apem.
Even so thou out-run'st grace. Fool, I will
go with you to lord Timon's.
Fool.
Will you leave me there?
Apem.
If Timon stay at home.—You three serve
three usurers?
All Serv.
I would they served us!
Apem.
So would I,—as good a trick as ever hangman
served thief.
Fool.
Are you three usurers' men?
-- 531 --
All Serv.
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'
house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?
Var. Serv.
I could render one.
Apem.
Do it, then, that we may account thee a
whoremaster, and a knave; which notwithstanding,
thou shalt be no less esteemed.
Var. Serv.
What is a whoremaster, fool?
Fool.
A fool in good clothes, and something like
thee. 'Tis a spirit: sometime it appears like a lord;
sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher,
with two stones more than his 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.
Var. Serv.
Thou art not altogether a fool.
Fool.
Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much
foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest.
Apem.
That answer might have become Apemantus.
All Serv.
Aside, aside: here comes lord Timon.
Re-enter Timon and Flavius.
Apem.
Come, with me, fool, come.
Fool.
I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and
woman; sometime, the philosopher.
[Exeunt Apemantus and Fool.
Flav.
Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with you anon.
[Exeunt Serv.
Tim.
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?
Flav.
You would not hear me,
-- 532 --
At many leisures I propos'd.
Tim.
Go to:
Perchance, some single vantages you took,
When my indisposition put you back;
And that unaptness made your minister,
Thus to excuse yourself.
Flav.
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 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.
Tim.
Let all my land be sold.
Flav.
'Tis all engag'd, 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?
Tim.
To Lacedæmon did my land extend.
Flav.
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?
Tim.
You tell me true.
Flav.
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 oppress'd
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
With drunken spilth of wine; when every room
-- 533 --
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy,
I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock,
And set mine eyes at flow4 note
.
Tim.
Pr'ythee, no more.
Flav.
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.
Tim.
Come, sermon me no farther.
No villainous 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.
Flav.
Assurance bless your thoughts!
Tim.
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!—Flaminius5 note! Servilius!
-- 534 --
Enter Flaminius, Servilius, and other Servants.
Serv.
My lord, my lord,—
Tim.
I will despatch 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 them toward a supply of
money: let the request be fifty talents.
Flam.
As you have said, my lord.
Flav.
Lord Lucius, and Lucullus? humph!
Tim.
Go you, sir, [To another Serv.] to the senators,
(Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
Deserv'd this hearing) bid 'em send o' the instant
A thousand talents to me.
Flav.
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.
Tim.
Is't true? can't be?
Flav.
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.
Tim.
You gods, reward them!—
Pr'ythee, man, look cheerly: these old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows;
'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind,
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
-- 535 --
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.—
Go to Ventidius,—[To a Serv.] 'Pr'ythee, [To Flavius,] be not sad,
Thou art true, and honest: ingeniously I speak6 note,
No blame belongs to thee.—[To Serv.] 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:—that had, [To Flav.] give it these fellows
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think,
That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink.
Flav.
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.
The Same. A Room in Lucullus's House.
Flaminius waiting. Enter a Servant to him.
Serv.
I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.
Flam.
I thank you, sir.
Enter Lucullus.
Serv.
Here's my lord.
Lucul. [Aside.]
One of lord Timon's men? a gift, I
warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver
-- 536 --
bason and ewer to-night. 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.
Flam.
His health is well, sir.
Lucul.
I am right glad that his health is well, sir.
And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flamiuius?
Flam.
'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.
Lucul.
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 have
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 have told him on't, but I could ne'er get him
from it.
Re-enter Servant with Wine.
Serv.
Please your lordship, here is the wine.
Lucul.
Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise.
Here's to thee.
Flam.
Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
Lucul.
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.—Get you
gone, sirrah. — [To the Servant, who goes out.] — 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
-- 537 --
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.
Flam.
Is't possible, the world should so much differ,
And we alive that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness,
To him that worships thee.
[Throwing the Money away.
Lucul.
Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy
master.
[Exit Lucullus.
Flam.
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 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.
The Same. A Public Place.
Enter Lucius, with Three Strangers.
Luc.
Who? the lord Timon? he is my very good
friend, and an honourable gentleman.
1 Stran.
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
-- 538 --
lord Timon's happy hours are done and past, and his
estate shrinks from him.
Luc.
Fie! no, do not believe it; he cannot want
for money.
2 Stran.
But believe you this, my lord, that, not long
ago, one of his men was with the lord Lucullus, to
borrow so many talents; 11Q0951 nay, urged extremely for't,
and showed what necessity belonged to't, and yet was
denied.
Luc.
How?
2 Stran.
I tell you, denied, my lord.
Luc.
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.
Ser.
See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; I have
sweat to see his honour.—My honoured lord,—
[To Lucius.
Luc.
Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee
well: commend me to thy honourable-virtuous lord,
my very exquisite friend.
Ser.
May it please your honour, my lord hath sent—
Luc.
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?
Ser.
He has only sent1 note his present occasion now, my
lord; requesting your lordship to supply his instant use
with so many talents.
-- 539 --
Luc.
I know, his lordship is but merry with me:
He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
Ser.
But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
If his occasion were not virtuous,
I should not urge it half so faithfully.
Luc.
Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
Ser.
Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir.
Luc.
What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish
myself against such a good time, when I might have
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?
Ser.
Yes, sir, I shall.
Luc.
I'll look you out of a good turn, Servilius.—
[Exit Servilius.
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed;
And he that's once denied will hardly speed.
[Exit Lucius.
1 Stran.
Do you observe this, Hostilius?
2 Stran.
Ay, too well.
1 Stran.
Why this
Is the world's soul; and just of the same piece
Is every flatterer's sport8 note. Who can call him
-- 540 --
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.
3 Stran.
Religion groans at it.
1 Stran.
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.
The Same. A Room in Sempronius's House.
Enter Sempronius, and a Servant of Timon's.
Sem.
Must he needs trouble me in't? Humph! '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
-- 541 --
Owe their estates unto him.
Serv.
My lord,
They have all been touch'd, and found base metal;
For they have all denied him.
Sem.
How! have they denied him?
Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
And does he send to me? Three? humph!
It shows but little love or judgment in him:
Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians,
Thrice give him over9 note
! must I take the cure upon me?
He has much disgrac'd me in't: I am angry at him,
That might have known my place. I see no sense for't,
But his occasions 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 it last? No: so it may prove
An argument of laughter to the rest,
And amongst lords I be thought a fool10 note.
I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum,
He 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.
Serv.
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,
-- 542 --
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
to Timon's Creditors, waiting his coming out.
Var. Serv.
Well met; good-morrow, Titus and Hortensius.
Tit.
The like to you, kind Varro.
Hor.
Lucius?
What, do we meet together?
Luc. Serv.
Ay; and, I think,
One business does command us all, for mine
Is money.
Tit.
So is theirs, and ours.
Enter Philotus.
Luc. Serv.
And, sir,
Philotus too!
Phi.
Good day at once.
Luc. Serv.
Welcome, good brother.
-- 543 --
What do you think the hour?
Phi.
Labouring for nine.
Luc. Serv.
So much?
Phi.
Is not my lord seen yet?
Luc. Serv.
Not yet.
Phi.
I wonder on't: he was wont to shine at seven.
Luc. Serv.
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.
Phi.
I am of your fear for that.
Tit.
I'll show you how t' observe a strange event.
Your lord sends now for money.
Hor.
Most true, he does.
Tit.
And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
For which I wait for money.
Hor.
It is against my heart.
Luc. Serv.
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.
Hor.
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.
1 Var. Serv.
Yes, mine's three thousand crowns; what's yours?
Luc. Serv.
Five thousand mine.
1 Var. Serv.
'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sum,
Your master's confidence was above mine;
Else, surely, his had equall'd1 note.
-- 544 --
Enter Flaminius.
Tit.
One of lord Timon's men.
Luc. Serv.
Flaminius! Sir, a word. Pray, is my
lord ready to come forth?
Flam.
No, indeed, he is not.
Tit.
We attend his lordship: pray, signify so much.
Flam.
I need not tell him that; he knows, you are
too diligent.
[Exit Flaminius.
Enter Flavius in a Cloak, muffled.
Luc. Serv.
Ha! is not that his Steward muffled so?
He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.
Tit.
Do you hear, sir?
1 Var. Serv.
By your leave, sir,—
Flav.
What do you ask of me, my friend?
Tit.
We wait for certain money here, sir.
Flav.
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 ate
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.
Luc. Serv.
Ay, but this answer will not serve.
Flav.
If 'twill not serve,
'Tis not so base as you; for you serve knaves.
[Exit.
1 Var. Serv.
How! what does his cashier'd worship
mutter?
2 Var. Serv.
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.
-- 545 --
Enter Servilius.
Tit.
O! here's Servilius; now we shall know some
answer.
Ser.
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.
Luc. Serv.
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.
Serv.
Good gods!
Tit.
We cannot take this for answer, sir.
Flam. [Within.]
Servilius, help! — my lord! my lord!
Enter Timon, in a rage; Flaminius, following.
Tim.
What! are my doors oppos'd 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?
Luc. Serv.
Put in now, Titus.
Tit.
My lord, here is my bill.
Luc. Serv.
Here's mine.
Hor. Serv.
And mine, my lord2 note.
Both Var. Serv.
And ours, my lord.
Phi.
All our bills.
Tim.
Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.
-- 546 --
Luc. Serv.
Alas! my lord,—
Tim.
Cut my heart in sums.
Tit.
Mine, fifty talents.
Tim.
Tell out my blood.
Luc. Serv.
Five thousand crowns, my lord.
Tim.
Five thousand drops pays that.—
What yours?—and yours?
1 Var. Serv.
My lord,—
2 Var. Serv.
My lord,—
Tim.
Tear me, take me; and the gods fall upon you!
[Exit.
Hor.
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.
Tim.
They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves:
Creditors?—devils!
Flav.
My dear lord,—
Tim.
What if it should be so?
Flav.
My lord,—
Tim.
I'll have it so.—My steward!
Flav.
Here, my lord.
Tim.
So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius; Ullorxa, all3 note:
I'll once more feast the rascals.
Flav.
O my lord!
You only speak from your distracted soul:
There is not so much left to furnish out
-- 547 --
A moderate table.
Tim.
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. Enter Alcibiades, attended.
1 Sen.
My lord, you have my voice to't: the fault's
bloody; 'tis necessary he should die.
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
2 Sen.
Most true; the law shall bruise him4 note.
Alcib.
Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!
1 Sen.
Now, captain?
Alcib.
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 him5 note 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
-- 548 --
He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent,
As if he had but prov'd an argument. 11Q0952
1 Sen.
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?
Alcib.
My lord,—
1 Sen.
You cannot make gross sins look clear:
To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
Alcib.
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 fellow,
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?
-- 549 --
Weigh but the crime with this.
2 Sen.
You breathe in vain.
Alcib.
In vain? his service done
At Lacedæmon, and Byzantium,
Were a sufficient briber for his life.
1 Sen.
What's that?
Alcib.
Why, say, my lords6 note, 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?
2 Sen.
He has made too much plenty with him,
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 11Q0953
To overcome him: in that beastly fury
He has been known to commit outrages,
And cherish factions. 'Tis inferr'd to us7 note
,
His days are foul, and his drink dangerous.
1 Sen.
He dies.
Alcib.
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 them 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.
-- 550 --
1 Sen.
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.
Alcib.
Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.
2 Sen.
How!
Alcib.
Call me to your remembrances.
3 Sen.
What!
Alcib.
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.
1 Sen.
Do you dare our anger?
'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect:
We banish thee for ever.
Alcib.
Banish me!
Banish your dotage, banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly.
1 Sen.
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.
Alcib.
Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live
Only in bone, that none may look on you!
I am 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 hearts8 note
.
-- 551 --
'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
A Banquet-hall in Timon's House.
Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. Enter divers Lords, at several Doors.
1 Lord.
The good time of day to you, sir.
2 Lord.
I also wish it to you. I think, this honourable
lord did but try us this other day.
1 Lord.
Upon that were my thoughts tiring9 note, when
we encountered. I hope, it is not so low with him, as
he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
2 Lord.
It should not be, by the persuasion of his
new feasting.
1 Lord.
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.
2 Lord.
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.
1 Lord.
I am sick of that grief too, as I understand
how all things go.
2 Lord.
Every man here's so. What would he have
borrowed of you?
-- 552 --
1 Lord.
A thousand pieces.
2 Lord.
A thousand pieces!
1 Lord.
What of you?
3 Lord.
He sent to me, sir,—Here he comes.
Enter Timon, and Attendants.
Tim.
With all my heart, gentlemen both:—And
how fare you?
1 Lord.
Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
2 Lord.
The swallow follows not summer more willing,
than we your lordship.
Tim. [Aside.]
Nor more willingly leaves winter;
such summer-birds are men. [To them.] 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.
1 Lord.
I hope, it remains not unkindly with your
lordship, that I returned you an empty messenger.
Tim.
O,sir! let it not trouble you.
2 Lord.
My noble lord,—
Tim.
Ah! my good friend, what cheer?
[The Banquet brought in.
2 Lord.
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.
Tim.
Think not on't, sir.
2 Lord.
If you had sent but two hours before,—
Tim.
Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
—Come, bring in all together.
2 Lord.
All covered dishes!
1 Lord.
Royal cheer, I warrant you.
3 Lord.
Doubt not that, if money, and the season
can yield it.
1 Lord.
How do you? What's the news?
3 Lord.
Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?
1 & 2 Lord.
Alcibiades banished!
-- 553 --
3 Lord.
'Tis so; be sure of it.
1 Lord.
How? how?
2 Lord.
I pray you, upon what?
Tim.
My worthy friends, will you draw near?
3 Lord.
I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble
feast toward.
2 Lord.
This is the old man still.
3 Lord.
Will't hold? will't hold?
2 Lord.
It does; but time will—and so—
3 Lord.
I do conceive.
Tim.
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
lag10 note 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 uncovered are full of warm Water.
Some speak.
What does his lordship mean?
Some other.
I know not.
-- 554 --
Tim.
May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends! smoke, and luke-warm water
Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces
[Throwing Water in their Faces.
Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd, 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:—
[Throws the Dishes at them, and drives them out.
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.—
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, with other Lords and Senators.
1 Lord.
How now, my lords!
2 Lord.
Know you the quality of lord Timon's fury?
3 Lord.
Push1 note! did you see my cap?
4 Lord.
I have lost my gown.
3 Lord.
He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour
sways him. He gave me a jewel the other day, and
now he has beat it out of my hat:—did you see my
jewel?
4 Lord.
Did you see my cap?
2 Lord.
Here 'tis.
4 Lord.
Here lies my gown.
1 Lord.
Let's make no stay.
-- 555 --
2 Lord.
Lord Timon's mad.
3 Lord.
I feel't upon my bones.
4 Lord.
One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Without the Walls of Athens.
Enter Timon.
Tim.
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 sixteen2 note,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And yet confusion live!—Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
-- 556 --
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,
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 bans3 note!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
Th' unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, you good gods all)
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high, and low!
Amen.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Athens. A Room in Timon's House.
Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants.
1 Serv.
Hear you, master steward! where's our master?
Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?
Flav.
Alack! my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.
1 Serv.
Such a house broke!
So noble a master fallen! All gone, and not
-- 557 --
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him!
2 Serv.
As we do turn our backs
From our companion, thrown into his grave,
So his familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.—More of our fellows.
Enter other Servants.
Flav.
All broken implements of a ruin'd house.
3 Serv.
Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
That see I by our faces: we are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow. Leak'd 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.
Flav.
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 fortunes,
“We have seen better days.” Let each take some;
[Giving 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 ways4 note.
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 mock'd with glory? or to live
But in a dream of friendship?
-- 558 --
To have his pomp, and all what state compounds,
But only painted, like his varnish'd friends? 11Q0954
Poor honest lord! brought low by his own heart;
Undone by goodness. Strange, unusual blood5 note,
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,—bless'd, to be most accurs'd,
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.
SCENE III.
The Woods.
Enter Timon.
Tim.
O, blessed breeding sun! draw from the earth
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb
Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes,
The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,
(To whom all sores lay siege) can bear great fortune,
But by contempt of nature.
Raise me this beggar, and deny't that lord; 11Q0955
-- 559 --
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the rother's sides6 note
note
,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, “This man's a flatterer?” if one be,
So are they all; for every grise of fortune7 note
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool. All is oblique;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorr'd
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
Destruction fang mankind!—Earth, yield me roots!
[Digging.
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison—What is here?
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens!
Thus much of this will make black, white; foul, fair;
Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.
Ha! you gods, why this? What this, you gods! Why, this
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,
-- 560 --
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads8 note.
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions; bless th' accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it,
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.—[March afar off.]—Ha! a drum?—Thou'rt quick,
But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.—
Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
[Reserving some gold.
Enter Alcibiades, with Drum and Fife, in warlike
manner; and Phrynia and Timandra.
Alcib.
What art thou there?
Speak.
Tim.
A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
For showing me again the eyes of man!
Alcib.
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?
Tim.
I am misanthropos, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
Alcib.
I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.
-- 561 --
Tim.
I know thee too; and more, than that I know thee,
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;
Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.
Phry.
Thy lips rot off!
Tim.
I will not kiss thee; then, the rot returns
To thine own lips again.
Alcib.
How came the noble Timon to this change?
Tim.
As the moon does, by wanting light to give:
But then, renew I could not, like the moon;
There were no suns to borrow of.
Alcib.
Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?
Tim.
None, but to
Maintain my opinion.
Alcib.
What is it, Timon?
Tim.
Promise me friendship, but perform none: if
thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou
art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for
thou art a man!
Alcib.
I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
Tim.
Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.
Alcib.
I see them now; then was a blessed time.
Tim.
As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
Timan.
Is this th' Athenian minion, whom the world
Voic'd so regardfully?
Tim.
Art thou Timandra?
Timan.
Yes.
Tim.
Be a whore still! they love thee not, that use thee:
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
Make use of thy salt hours; season the slaves
-- 562 --
For tubs, and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth
To the tub-fast9 note, and the diet.
Timan.
Hang thee, monster!
Alcib.
Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.—
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band: I have heard and griev'd,
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,—
Tim.
I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
Alcib.
I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
Tim.
How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
Alcib.
Why, fare thee well:
Here is some gold for thee.
Tim.
Keep it, I cannot eat it.
Alcib.
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,—
Tim.
Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?
Alcib.
Ay Timon, and have cause.
Tim.
The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
And thee after, when thou hast conquered:
Alcib.
Why me, Timon?
Tim.
That, by killing of villains,
Thou wast born to conquer my country.
Put up thy gold: go on,—here's gold,—go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek
-- 563 --
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes1 note,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy:
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat2 note shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes,
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers:
Make large confusion; and thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
Alcib.
Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou giv'st me,
Not all thy counsel.
Tim.
Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee!
Phr. & Timan.
Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
Tim.
Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whores, a bawd. 11Q0956 Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,—
Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear,
Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues,
The immortal gods that hear you,—spare your oaths,
I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats. Yet may your pains, six months,
Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs
-- 564 --
With burdens of the dead;—some that were hang'd,
No matter:—wear them, betray with them: whore still;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face:
A pox of wrinkles!
Phry. & Timan.
Well, more gold.—What then?—
Believ't, that we'll do any thing for gold.
Tim.
Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foresee,
Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate ruffians bald;
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you. Plague all,
That your activity may defeat and quell
The source of all erection.—There's more gold:
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!
Phr. & Timan.
More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
Tim.
More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.
Alcib.
Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.
Tim.
If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.
Alcib.
I never did thee harm.
Tim.
Yes, thou spok'st well of me.
Alcib.
Call'st thou that harm?
Tim.
Men daily find it. Get thee away,
And take thy beagles with thee.
-- 565 --
Alcib.
We but offend him.—
Strike!
[Drum beats. Exeunt Alcibiades, Phrynia, and Timandra.
Tim.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry!—Common mother, thou,
[Digging.
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
Yield him, who all the human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb;
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented!—O! a root,—dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas; 11Q0957
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts,
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips——3 note
Enter Apemantus.
More man? Plague! plague!
Apem.
I was directed hither: men report,
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
Tim.
'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!
-- 566 --
Apem.
This is in thee a nature but infected;
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
From change of fortune4 note. Why this spade? this place?
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft,
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus;
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bade welcome,
To knaves, and all approachers: 'tis most just,
That thou turn rascal; had'st thou wealth again,
Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.
Tim.
Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
Apem.
Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
A madman so long, now a fool. What! think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist trees,
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures,—
Whose naked natures live in all the spite
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature,—bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find—
Tim.
A fool of thee. Depart.
-- 567 --
Apem.
I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Tim.
I hate thee worse.
Apem.
Why?
Tim.
Thou flatter'st misery.
Apem.
I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.
Tim.
Why dost thou seek me out?
Apem.
To vex thee.
Tim.
Always a villain's office, or a fool's.
Dost please thyself in't?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
What! a knave too?
Apem.
If thou didst put this sour cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou
Dost it enforcedly: thou'dst courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before:
The one is filling still, never complete,
The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse than the worst, content.
Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable.
Tim.
Not by his breath, that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clasp'd, but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou would'st have plung'd thyself
In general riot; 11Q0958 melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
-- 568 --
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows;—I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff
To some she beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!—
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer.
Apem.
Art thou proud yet?
Tim.
Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem.
I, that I was
No prodigal.
Tim.
I, that I am one now:
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.—
That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.
[Eating a Root.
Apem.
Here; I will mend thy feast.
[Offering him something.
Tim.
First mend my company5 note, take away thyself.
Apem.
So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.
Tim.
'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;
If not, I would it were.
Apem.
What would'st thou have to Athens?
Tim.
Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
Tell them there I have gold: look, so I have.
Apem.
Here is no use for gold.
Tim.
The best, and truest;
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
-- 569 --
Apem.
Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?
Tim.
Under that's above me.
Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?
Apem.
Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather,
where I eat it.
Tim.
Would poison were obedient, and knew my
mind!
Apem.
Where would'st thou send it?
Tim.
To sauce thy dishes.
Apem.
The middle of humanity thou never knewest,
but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in
thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too
much curiosity: in thy rags thou knowest none, but
art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for
thee; eat it.
Tim.
On what I hate, I feed not.
Apem.
Dost hate a medlar?
Tim.
Ay, though it look like thee.
Apem.
An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou
should'st have loved thyself better now. What man
didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after
his means?
Tim.
Who, without those means thou talkest of,
didst thou ever know beloved?
Apem.
Myself.
Tim.
I understand thee: thou hadst some means to
keep a dog.
Apem.
What things in the world canst thou nearest
compare to thy flatterers?
Tim.
Women nearest; but men, men are the things
themselves. What would'st thou do with the world,
Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
Apem.
Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
Tim.
Would'st thou have thyself fall in the confusion
of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?
Apem.
Ay, Timon.
Tim.
A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee
-- 570 --
to attain to. If thou wert the lion, the fox would
beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat
thee: if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee,
when, peradventure, thou wert accused by the ass: if
thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee,
and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf: if
thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee,
and oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner:
wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound
thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy
fury: wert thou a bear, thou would'st be killed by the
horse: wert thou a horse, thou would'st be seized by
the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to
the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on
thy life; all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence,
absence. What beast could'st thou be, that were not
subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already,
that seest not thy loss in transformation.
Apem.
If thou could'st please me with speaking to
me, thou might'st have hit upon it here: the commonwealth
of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
Tim.
How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art
out of the city?
Apem.
Yonder comes a poet, and a painter. The
plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to
catch it, and give way. When I know not what else
to do, I'll see thee again.
Tim.
When there is nothing living but thee, thou
shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, than
Apemantus.
Apem.
Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
Tim.
Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon.
Apem.
A plague on thee, thou art too bad to curse.
Tim.
All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure.
Apem.
There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.
Tim.
If I name thee.—
I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
-- 571 --
Apem.
I would, my tongue could rot them off!
Tim.
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me, that thou art alive;
I swoon to see thee.
Apem.
Would thou would'st burst!
Tim.
Away,
Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose
A stone by thee.
[Throws a Stone at him.
Apem.
Beast!
Tim.
Slave!
Apem.
Toad!
Tim.
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
[Apemantus retreats backward, as going.
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
But even the mere necessities upon't.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave:
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily; make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others' lives may laugh.
O, thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
[Looking on the Gold.
'Twixt natural son and sire6 note! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
That solder'st close impossibilities,
And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue,
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts7 note!
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!
Apem.
Would 'twere so;
But not till I am dead!—I'll say, thou'st gold:
-- 572 --
Thou will be throng'd to shortly.
Tim.
Throng'd to?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
Thy back, I pr'ythee.
Apem.
Live, and love thy misery!
Tim.
Long live so, and so die!—I am quit.—
[Exit Apemantus.
More things like men8 note?—Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
Enter Banditti.
1 Band.
Where should he have this gold? It is
some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder.
The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his
friends, drove him into this melancholy. 11Q0959
2 Band.
It is noised, he hath a mass of treasure.
3 Band.
Let us make the assay upon him: if he care
not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously
reserve it, how shall's get it?
2 Band.
True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.
1 Band.
Is not this he?
All.
Where?
2 Band.
'Tis his description.
3 Band.
He; I know him.
All.
Save thee, Timon.
Tim.
Now, thieves?
All.
Soldiers, not thieves.
Tim.
Both too; and women's sons.
All.
We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
Tim.
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?
-- 573 --
1 Band.
We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
As beasts, and birds, and fishes.
Tim.
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con9 note,
That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions10 note. Rascal thieves,
Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape,
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't1 note,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves; away!
Rob one another. There's more gold: cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens, go:
Break open shops; nothing can you steal,
But thieves do lose it. Steal not less2 note, for this
I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.
[Timon retires to his Cave.
-- 574 --
3 Band.
He has almost charmed me from my profession,
by persuading me to it.
1 Band.
'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus
advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
2 Band.
I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over
my trade.
1 Band.
Let us first see peace in Athens: there is
no time so miserable, but a man may be true.
[Exeunt Banditti3 note.
Enter Flavius.
Flav.
O you gods!
Is yond' despis'd and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument,
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of honour has desperate want made!
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends?
How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
When man was wish'd to love his enemies:
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do!
He has caught me in his eye: I will present
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life.—My dearest master!
Timon comes forward from his Cave.
Tim.
Away! what art thou?
Flav.
Have you forgot me, sir?
Tim.
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man4 note, I have forgot thee.
Flav.
An honest poor servant of yours.
-- 575 --
Tim.
Then, I know thee not:
I never had honest man about me, I;
All I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
Flav.
The gods are witness,
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.
Tim.
What! dost thou weep?—Come nearer:—then, I love thee,
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,
But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping:
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!
Flav.
I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
T' accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts,
To entertain me as your steward still.
Tim.
Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.
Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
Was born of woman.—
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man,—mistake me not,—but one;
No more, I pray,—and he's a steward.—
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,
I fell with curses.
Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise;
For by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou might'st have sooner got another service,
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,
(For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure)
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
If not a usuring kindness; and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
-- 576 --
Flav.
No, my most worthy master; in whose breast
Doubt and suspect, alas! are plac'd too late.
You should have fear'd false times, when you did feast:
Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
My most honour'd lord,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange
For this one wish,—that you had power and wealth
To requite me by making rich yourself.
Tim.
Look thee, 'tis so.—Thou singly honest man,
Here, take:—the gods out of my misery
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy;
But thus condition'd:—thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all; show charity to none,
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing. Be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so, farewell, and thrive.
Flav.
O! let me stay,
And comfort you, my master.
Tim.
If thou hat'st
Curses, stay not: fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd and free.
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.
[Exeunt severally.
-- 577 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Same. Before Timon's Cave.
Enter Poet and Painter5 note.
Pain.
As I took note of the place, it cannot be far
where he abides.
Poet.
What's to be thought of him? Does the
rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold?
Pain.
Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and
Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor
straggling soldiers with great quantity. 'Tis said, he
gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
Poet.
Then this breaking of his has been but a try
for his friends.
Pain.
Nothing else; you shall see him a palm in
Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore,
'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in this
supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in us,
and is very likely to load our purposes with what they
travail for, 11Q0960 if it be a just and true report that goes of
his having.
Poet.
What have you now to present unto him?
Pain.
Nothing at this time but my visitation; only,
I will promise him an excellent piece.
Poet.
I must serve him so too; tell him of an intent
that's coming toward him.
Pain.
Good as the best. Promising is the very air
o' the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance
-- 578 --
is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the
plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying
is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and
fashionable: performance is a kind of will, or testament,
which argues a great sickness in his judgment
that makes it.
Enter Timon, from his Cave6 note.
Tim.
Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a
man so bad as is thyself.
Poet.
I am thinking, what I shall say I have provided
for him. It must be a personating of himself:
a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery
of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and
opulency.
Tim.
Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine
own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other
men? Do so; I have gold for thee.
Poet.
Nay, let's seek him:
Then do we sin against our own estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.
Pain.
True;
When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,
Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.
Come.
Tim.
I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold,
That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple,
Than where swine feed!
'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the foam;
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
-- 579 --
To thee be worship7 note; and thy saints for aye
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!
Fit I meet them.
[Advancing.
Poet.
Hail, worthy Timon!
Pain.
Our late noble master.
Tim.
Have I once liv'd to see two honest men?
Poet.
Sir,
Having often of your open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,
Whose thankless natures—O, abhorred spirits!
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough—
What! to you,
Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words.
Tim.
Let it go naked, men may see't the better:
You, that are honest, by being what you are,
Make them best seen, and known.
Pain.
He, and myself,
Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.
Tim.
Ay, you are honest men.
Pain.
We are hither come to offer you our service.
Tim.
Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.
Both.
What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.
Tim.
You are honest men. You have heard that I have gold;
I am sure you have: speak truth; you are honest men.
Pain.
So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
Came not my friend, nor I.
-- 580 --
Tim.
Good honest men!—Thou draw'st a counterfeit8 note
Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best;
Thou counterfeit'st most lively.
Pain.
So, so, my lord.
Tim.
Even so, sir, as I say.—And, for thy fiction,
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth,
That thou art even natural in thine art.—
But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends,
I must needs say, you have a little fault:
Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I,
You take much pains to mend.
Both.
Beseech your honour,
To make it known to us.
Tim.
You'll take it ill.
Both.
Most thankfully, my lord.
Tim.
Will you, indeed?
Both.
Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Tim.
There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,
That mightily deceives you.
Both.
Do we, my lord?
Tim.
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom; yet remain assur'd,
That he's a made-up villain.
Pain.
I know none such, my lord.
Poet.
Nor I.
Tim.
Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,
Rid me these villains from your companies:
Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draught,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
I'll give you gold enough.
Both.
Name them, my lord; let's know them.
Tim.
You that way, and you this; but two in company9 note:—
-- 581 --
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company,
If, where thou art, two villains shall not be,
[To the Painter.
Come not near him.—If thou would'st not reside
[To the Poet.
But where one villain is, then him abandon.—
Hence! pack! there's gold; ye came for gold, ye slaves:
You have done work for me1 note
, there's payment: hence!
You are an alchymist, make gold of that.
Out, rascal dogs!
[Exit, beating them out.
SCENE II.
The Same.
Enter Flavius, and two Senators.
Flav.
It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;
For he is set so only to himself,
That nothing but himself, which looks like man,
Is friendly with him.
1 Sen.
Bring us to his cave:
It is our part, and promise to the Athenians,
To speak with Timon.
2 Sen.
At all times alike
Men are not still the same. 'Twas time, and griefs,
That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer hand
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
-- 582 --
The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
And chance it as it may.
Flav.
Here is his cave.—
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to friends. Th' Athenians,
By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:
Speak to them, noble Timon.
Enter Timon.
Tim.
Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!—Speak, and be hang'd:
For each true word, a blister; and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,
Consuming it with speaking!
1 Sen.
Worthy Timon,—
Tim.
Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
2 Sen.
The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
Tim.
I thank them; and would send them back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.
1 Sen.
O! forget
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators, with one consent of love,
Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
2 Sen.
They confess
Toward thee forgetfulness, too general, gross;
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
Play the recanter, feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall2 note
, restraining aid to Timon;
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,
Together with a recompense, more fruitful
-- 583 --
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth,
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.
Tim.
You witch me in it;
Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
1 Sen.
Therefore, so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority:—so soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild;
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.
2 Sen.
And shakes his threat'ning sword
Against the walls of Athens.
1 Sen.
Therefore, Timon,—
Tim.
Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus,—
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,
Then, let him know,—and tell him, Timon speaks it,
In pity of our aged, and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him,—that I care not,
And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,
While you have throats to answer: for myself,
There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp,
But I do prize it at my love, before
The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the prosperous gods,
As thieves to keepers.
-- 584 --
Flav.
Stay not: all's in vain.
Tim.
Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen to-morrow. My long sickness
Of health, and living, now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go; live still:
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
And last so long enough!
1 Sen.
We speak in vain.
Tim.
But yet I love my country; and am not
One that rejoices in the common wreck,
As common bruit3 note doth put it.
1 Sen.
That's well spoke.
Tim.
Commend me to my loving countrymen,—
1 Sen.
These words become your lips as they pass through them.
2 Sen.
And enter in our ears, like great triumphers
In their applauding gates.
Tim.
Commend me to them;
And tell them, that to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.
2 Sen.
I like this well; he will return again.
Tim.
I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself.—I pray you, do my greeting.
Flav.
Trouble him no farther; thus you still shall find him.
-- 585 --
Tim.
Come not to me again; but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
Whom once a day with his embossed froth
The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your oracle.—
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end:
What is amiss, plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works, and death their gain.
Sun, hide thy beams: Timon hath done his reign.
[Exit Timon.
1 Sen.
His discontents are unremovably coupled to
nature.
2 Sen.
Our hope in him is dead. Let us return,
And strain what other means is left unto us
In our dear peril4 note.
1 Sen.
It requires swift foot.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Walls of Athens.
Enter two Senators, and a Messenger.
1 Sen.
Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files
As full as thy report?
Mess.
I have spoke the least;
Besides, his expedition promises
Present approach.
2 Sen.
We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.
Mess.
I met a courier, one mine ancient friend,
Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old love made a particular force,
-- 586 --
And made us speak like friends:—this man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,
With letters of entreaty, which imported
His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
In part for his sake mov'd.
Enter Senators from Timon.
1 Sen.
Here come our brothers.
3 Sen.
No talk of Timon; nothing of him expect.—
The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare:
Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The Woods. Timon's Cave, and a Tomb-stone seen.
Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon.
Sold.
By all description this should be the place.
Who's here? speak, ho!—No answer?—What is this?
Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
Some beast rear'd this5 note; there does not live a man. 11Q0961
Dead, sure, and this his grave.—What's on this tomb
I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax:
Our captain hath in every figure skill;
An ag'd interpreter, though young in days.
Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.
[Exit.
-- 587 --
SCENE V.
Before the Walls of Athens.
Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades, and Forces.
Alcib.
Sound to this coward and lascivious town
Our terrible approach.
[A Parley sounded.
Enter Senators on the Walls.
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice: till now, myself, and such
As slept within the shadow of your power,
Have wander'd with our travers'd arms, and breath'd
Our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong,
Cries of itself, “No more:” now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;
And pursy insolence shall break his wind
With fear, and horrid flight.
1 Sen.
Noble, and young,
When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear,
We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
Above their quantity.
2 Sen.
So did we woo
Transformed Timon to our city's love,
By humble message, and by promis'd means:
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common stroke of war.
1 Sen.
These walls of ours
Were not erected by their hands, from whom
You have receiv'd your grief: nor are they such,
-- 588 --
That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall
For private faults in them.
2 Sen.
Nor are they living,
Who were the motives that you first went out;
Shame, that they wanted cunning6 note, in excess
Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spread:
By decimation, and a tithed death,
(If thy revenges hunger for that food
Which nature loaths) take thou the destin'd tenth;
And by the hazard of the spotted die,
Let die the spotted.
1 Sen.
All have not offended;
For those that were, it is not square to take,
On those that are, revenge: 11Q0962 crimes, like lands,
Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:
Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin,
Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
With those that have offended. Like a shepherd,
Approach the fold, and cull th' infected forth,
But kill not altogether.
2 Sen.
What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile,
Than hew to't with thy sword.
1 Sen.
Set but thy foot
Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope,
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
To say, thou'lt enter friendly.
2 Sen.
Throw thy glove,
Or any token of thine honour else,
That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress,
And not as our confusion, all thy powers
-- 589 --
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.
Alcib.
Then, there's my glove:
Descend, and open your uncharged ports.
Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own,
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof,
Fall, and no more; and,—to atone your fears7 note
With my more noble meaning,—not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
But shall be remedied to your public laws8 note
At heaviest answer.
Both.
'Tis most nobly spoken.
Alcib.
Descend, and keep your words.
[The Senators descend, and open the Gates.
Enter a Soldier9 note.
Sold.
My noble general, Timon is dead;
Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea:
And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which
With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
Interprets for my poor ignorance.
Alcib. [Reads.]
“Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
Seek not my name. A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!
Here lie I Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait1 note
.”
-- 590 --
These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
Scorn'dst our brain's flow, and those our droplets which
From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave on faults forgiven. Dead
Is noble Timon; of whose memory
Hereafter more.—Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword:
Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each
Prescribe to other, as each other's leech.—
Let our drums strike.
[Exeunt.
