ACT 1
Scene 1
...above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Lord Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor. He is accompanied by a Messenger and followed by Lucilius and other Servants.
Imprisoned is he, say you?
...Periods his comfort.
Noble Ventidius. Well,
I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he must need me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have. I’ll pay the debt and free him.
...ever binds him.
Commend me to him. I will send his ransom;
And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me.
’Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after. Fare you well.
...hear me speak.
Freely, good father.
...servant named Lucilius.
I have so. What of him?
...man before thee.
Attends he here or no?—Lucilius!
...holds a trencher.
Well. What further?
...spoke in vain.
The man is honest.
...bear my daughter.
Does she love him?
...levity’s in youth.
to Lucilius
Love you the maid?
...dispossess her all.
How shall she be endowed
If she be mated with an equal husband?
...in future, all.
This gentleman of mine hath served me long.
To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter.
What you bestow, in him I’ll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.
...she is his.
My hand to thee; mine honor on my promise.
...live your Lordship.
I thank you. You shall hear from me anon.
Go not away.—What have you there, my friend?
...Lordship to accept.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man,
For, since dishonor traffics with man’s nature,
He is but outside; these penciled figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work,
And you shall find I like it. Wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
...gods preserve you.
Well fare you, gentleman. Give me your hand.
We must needs dine together.—Sir, your jewel
Hath suffered under praise.
...my lord? Dispraise?
A mere satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for ’t as ’tis extolled,
It would unclew me quite.
...the wearing it.
Well mocked.
... Enter Apemantus.
Look who comes here. Will you be chid?
...He’ll spare none.
Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus.
...these knaves honest.
Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou know’st them not.
...they not Athenians?
Yes.
...by thy name.
Thou art proud, Apemantus.
...not like Timon.
Whither art going?
...honest Athenian’s brains.
That’s a deed thou ’lt die for.
...by th’ law.
How lik’st thou this picture, Apemantus?
...for the innocence.
Wrought he not well that painted it?
...be a dog?
Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
...eat not lords.
An thou shouldst, thou ’dst anger ladies.
...by great bellies.
That’s a lascivious apprehension.
...for thy labor.
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
...man a doit.
What dost thou think ’tis worth?
...were a lord!
What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
...with my heart.
What? Thyself?
... Ay.
Wherefore?
...Enter a Messenger.
What trumpet’s that?
...All of companionship.
Pray, entertain them. Give them guide to us.
You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence
Till I have thanked you.—When dinner’s done
Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome, sir.
They bow to each other.
...on your sight.
Right welcome, sir.
Ere we depart, we’ll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
All but Apemantus exit.
Scene 2
...keep you company.
Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in, and then enter Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords (including Lucius), Alcibiades, and Ventidius (which Timon redeemed from prison). Flavius and others are in attendance. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus discontentedly like himself.
...offers a purse.
O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love.
I gave it freely ever, and there’s none
Can truly say he gives if he receives.
If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them. Faults that are rich are fair.
...A noble spirit!
Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devised at first
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray, sit. More welcome are you to my fortunes
Than my fortunes to me.
They sit.
...have you not?
O Apemantus, you are welcome.
...out of doors.
Fie, thou ’rt a churl. You’ve got a humor there
Does not become a man. ’Tis much to blame.—
They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est, but yond
man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by
himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is
he fit for ’t indeed.
...warning on ’t.
I take no heed of thee. Thou ’rt an Athenian,
therefore welcome. I myself would have no power;
prithee, let my meat make thee silent.
...their throats.
responding to a toast
My lord, in heart! And let the health go round.
...good heart, Apemantus!
Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now.
...service, my lord.
You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies
than a dinner of friends.
...ourselves forever perfect.
O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods
themselves have provided that I shall have much
help from you. How had you been my friends else?
Why have you that charitable title from thousands,
did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told
more of you to myself than you can with modesty
speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm
you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any
friends if we should ne’er have need of ’em? They
were the most needless creatures living, should we
ne’er have use for ’em, and would most resemble
sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keeps
their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often
wished myself poorer that I might come nearer to
you. We are born to do benefits. And what better or
properer can we call our own than the riches of
our friends? O, what a precious comfort ’tis to
have so many, like brothers, commanding one
another’s fortunes. O, joy’s e’en made away ere ’t
can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water,
methinks. To forget their faults, I drink to you.
...much. Much!Sound tucket.
What means that trump?
Enter Servant.
How now?
...desirous of admittance.
Ladies? What are their wills?
...signify their pleasures.
I pray, let them be admitted.
...feast thine eyes.
They’re welcome all. Let ’em have kind admittance.
Music, make their welcome!
...hautboys, and cease.
You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not half so beautiful and kind.
You have added worth unto ’t and luster,
And entertained me with mine own device.
I am to thank you for ’t.
...I doubt me.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you.
Please you to dispose yourselves.
...thankfully, my lord.
Flavius.
... My lord?
The little casket bring me hither.
...with the casket.
O my friends, I have one word
To say to you. Look you, my good lord,
I must entreat you, honor me so much
As to advance this jewel. Accept it and wear it,
Kind my lord.
...to visit you.
They are fairly welcome.
...concern you near.
Near? Why, then, another time I’ll hear thee.
I prithee, let’s be provided to show them entertainment.
...trapped in silver.
I shall accept them fairly. Let the presents
Be worthily entertained.
Enter a third Servant.
How now? What news?
...brace of greyhounds.
I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received,
Not without fair reward.
...for my lord.
to Lords
You do yourselves much wrong.
You bate too much of your own merits.
(Offering a gift.)
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
...soul of bounty!
And now I remember, my lord, you gave good
words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. ’Tis
yours because you liked it.
...lord, in that.
You may take my word, my lord. I know no man
Can justly praise but what he does affect.
I weigh my friends’ affection with mine own.
I’ll tell you true, I’ll call to you.
...none so welcome.
I take all and your several visitations
So kind to heart, ’tis not enough to give.
Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends
And ne’er be weary.—Alcibiades,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich.
It comes in charity to thee, for all thy living
Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast
Lie in a pitched field.
...so virtuously bound—
And so am I to you.
...So infinitely endeared—
All to you.—Lights, more lights.
...you, Lord Timon.
Ready for his friends.
...wealth on court’sies.
Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I would be good to thee.
...pomps, and vainglories?
Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am
sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, and
come with better music.
He exits.
ACT 2
Scene 2
...comes the lord.
Enter Timon, and his train, with Alcibiades.
So soon as dinner’s done we’ll forth again,
My Alcibiades. (To Caphis.)
With me? What is your will?
...of certain dues.
Dues? Whence are you?
...here, my lord.
Go to my steward.
...him his right.
Mine honest friend,
I prithee but repair to me next morning.
...good my lord—
Contain thyself, good friend.
...to your Lordship.
Give me breath.—
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on.
I’ll wait upon you instantly. To Flavius.
Come hither. Pray you,
How goes the world that I am thus encountered
With clamorous demands of debt, broken bonds,
And the detention of long-since-due debts
Against my honor?
...are not paid.
Do so, my friends.—
See them well entertained.
...Pray, draw near.
Timon and Flavius exit.
...comes Lord Timon.
Enter Timon and Steward Flavius.
...with you anon.
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.
...leisures I proposed—
Go to.
Perchance some single vantages you took
When my indisposition put you back,
And that unaptness made your minister
Thus to excuse yourself.
...your present debts.
Let all my land be sold.
...goes our reck’ning?
To Lacedaemon did my land extend.
...were it gone!
You tell me true.
...eyes at flow.
Prithee, no more.
...flies are couched.
Come, sermon me no further.
No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart;
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack
To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart.
If I would broach the vessels of my love
And try the argument of hearts by borrowing,
Men and men’s fortunes could I frankly use
As I can bid thee speak.
...bless your thoughts!
And in some sort these wants of mine are crowned,
That I account them blessings. For by these
Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you
Mistake my fortunes. I am wealthy in my friends.—
Within there! Flaminius!—Servilius!
...lord, my lord.
I will dispatch you severally. (To Servilius)
You to Lord Lucius, (to Flaminius)
to Lord
Lucullus you—I hunted with his Honor today; (to the third Servant)
you to Sempronius. Commend
me to their loves, and I am proud, say, that my
occasions have found time to use ’em toward a
supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents.
...and Lucullus? Humh!
Go you, sir, to the Senators,
Of whom, even to the state’s best health, I have
Deserved this hearing. Bid ’em send o’ th’ instant
A thousand talents to me.
...richer in return.
Is ’t true? Can ’t be?
...me into silence.
You gods, reward them!
Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary.
Their blood is caked, ’tis cold, it seldom flows;
’Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
Is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
Go to Ventidius. Prithee, be not sad.
Thou art true and honest—ingeniously I speak—
No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately
Buried his father, by whose death he’s stepped
Into a great estate. When he was poor,
Imprisoned, and in scarcity of friends,
I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me.
Bid him suppose some good necessity
Touches his friend, which craves to be remembered
With those five talents. That had, give ’t these fellows
To whom ’tis instant due. Ne’er speak or think
That Timon’s fortunes ’mong his friends can sink.
He exits.
ACT 3
Scene 4
...lord, my lord!
Enter Timon in a rage.
What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
Have I been ever free, and must my house
Be my retentive enemy, my jail?
The place which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
...All our bills.
Knock me down with ’em! Cleave me to the girdle.
...Alas, my lord—
Cut my heart in sums!
...Mine, fifty talents.
Tell out my blood.
...crowns, my lord.
Five thousand drops pays that.—What yours?—And yours?
...lord— My lord—
Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!
Timon exits.
...madman owes ’em.
Enter Timon and Flavius.
They have e’en put my breath from me, the slaves!
Creditors? Devils!
...My dear lord—
What if it should be so?
... My lord—
I’ll have it so.—My steward!
...Here, my lord.
So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius, all.
I’ll once more feast the rascals.
...A moderate table.
Be it not in thy care. Go,
I charge thee, invite them all. Let in the tide
Of knaves once more. My cook and I’ll provide.
They exit.
Scene 6
...to me, sir—
Enter Timon and Attendants.
...Here he comes.
With all my heart, gentlemen both! And how
fare you?
...we your Lordship.
aside
Nor more willingly leaves winter, such
summer birds are men.—Gentlemen, our dinner
will not recompense this long stay. Feast your ears
with the music awhile, if they will fare so harshly
o’ th’ trumpets’ sound. We shall to ’t presently.
...an empty messenger.
O, sir, let it not trouble you.
...My noble lord—
Ah, my good friend, what cheer?
...unfortunate a beggar.
Think not on ’t, sir.
...two hours before—
Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
The banquet brought in.
Come, bring in all together.
...you, upon what?
My worthy friends, will you draw near?
...I do conceive.
Each man to his stool, with that spur as he
would to the lip of his mistress. Your diet shall
be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let
the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place.
Sit, sit. (They 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 tag 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.
...I know not.
May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water
Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last,
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces
Your reeking villainy. (He throws water in their faces.)
Live loathed and long,
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies,
Cap-and-knee slaves, vapors, and minute-jacks.
Of man and beast the infinite malady
Crust you quite o’er!
(They stand.)
What, dost thou go?
Soft! Take thy physic first—thou too—and thou.—
Stay. I will lend thee money, borrow none. He attacks them and forces them out.
What? All in motion? Henceforth be no feast
Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest.
Burn, house! Sink, Athens! Henceforth hated be
Of Timon man and all humanity!
He exits.
ACT 4
Scene 1
...next day stones.
Enter Timon.
Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall
That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench
And minister in their steads! To general filths
Convert o’ th’ instant, green virginity!
Do ’t in your parents’ eyes! Bankrupts, hold fast!
Rather than render back, out with your knives
And cut your trusters’ throats! Bound servants, steal!
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed!
Thy mistress is o’ th’ brothel. Son of sixteen,
Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire;
With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night rest, and neighborhood,
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
On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners! Lust and liberty,
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That ’gainst the stream of virtue they may strive
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all th’ Athenian bosoms, and their crop
Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I’ll bear from thee
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
Timon will to the woods, where he shall find
Th’ unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound—hear me, you good gods all!—
Th’ Athenians both within and out that wall,
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high and low!
Amen.
He exits.
Scene 3
...his steward still.
Enter Timon in the woods, with a spade.
O blessèd breeding sun, draw from the Earth
Rotten humidity! Below thy sister’s orb
Infect the air! Twinned 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;
The Senators shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honor.
It is the pasture lards the brother’s sides,
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 fortune
Is smoothed by that below. The learnèd pate
Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy.
There’s nothing level in our cursèd natures
But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men.
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.
Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison! (Digging, he finds gold.)
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,
Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads.
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions, bless th’ accursed,
Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves
And give them title, knee, and approbation
With senators on the bench. This is it
That makes the wappened widow wed again;
She whom the spital house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th’ April day again. Come, damnèd earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that puts 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.
He buries the gold, keeping some out.
...thou there? Speak.
A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart
For showing me again the eyes of man!
...thyself a man?
I am Misanthropos and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
...unlearned and strange.
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.
...lips rot off!
I will not kiss thee. Then the rot returns
To thine own lips again.
...to this change?
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.
...I do thee?
None, but to maintain my opinion.
...is it, Timon?
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.
...of thy miseries.
Thou saw’st them when I had prosperity.
...a blessèd time.
As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
...Voiced so regardfully?
Art thou Timandra?
... Yes.
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
For tubs and baths. Bring down rose-cheeked youth
To the tub-fast and the diet.
...trod upon them—
I prithee, beat thy drum and get thee gone.
...thee, dear Timon.
How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
...gold for thee.
Keep it. I cannot eat it.
...on a heap—
Warr’st thou ’gainst Athens?
...and have cause.
The gods confound them all in thy conquest,
And thee after, when thou hast conquered!
...Why me, Timon?
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-viced city hang his poison
In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honored 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
Make soft thy trenchant sword, for those milk paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men’s eyes,
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 pronounced the throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects;
Put armor 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. (He offers gold.)
There’s gold to pay thy soldiers.
Make large confusion and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not. Begone.
...all thy counsel.
Dost thou or dost thou not, heaven’s curse upon thee!
...Hast thou more?
Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant. (He begins throwing gold into their aprons.)
You are not oathable,
Although I know you’ll swear—terribly swear
Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
Th’ 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
With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged,
No matter; wear them, betray with them. Whore still.
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face.
A pox of wrinkles!
...anything for gold.
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 curled-pate ruffians bald,
And let the unscarred 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!
...money, bounteous Timon.
More whore, more mischief first! I have given you earnest.
...visit thee again.
If I hope well, I’ll never see thee more.
...did thee harm.
Yes, thou spok’st well of me.
...thou that harm?
Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
Thy beagles with thee.
...offend him.— Strike.
That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! (He digs.)
Common mother, thou
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all; whose selfsame mettle—
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffed—
Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
The gilded newt and eyeless venomed worm,
With all th’ abhorrèd births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion’s quick’ning fire doth shine:
Yield him who all thy human sons do 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 plow-torn leas,
Whereof ingrateful man with liquorish drafts
And morsels unctuous greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips—
Enter Apemantus.
More man? Plague, plague!
...dost use them.
’Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!
...assume my likeness.
Were I like thee, I’d throw away myself.
...thou shalt find—
A fool of thee. Depart.
...e’er I did.
I hate thee worse.
... Why?
Thou flatter’st misery.
...art a caitiff.
Why dost thou seek me out?
...To vex thee.
Always a villain’s office or a fool’s.
Dost please thyself in ’t?
... Ay.
What, a knave too?
...die, being miserable.
Not by his breath that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave whom Fortune’s tender arm
With favor never clasped but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us from our first swathe, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
In general riot, melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust, and never learned
The icy precepts of respect, but followed
The sugared 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
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 shouldst thou hate men?
They never flattered 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, begone.
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
...thou proud yet?
Ay, that I am not thee.
...was no prodigal.
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.
He gnaws a root.
...mend thy feast.
First mend my company. Take away thyself.
...lack of thine.
’Tis not well mended so; it is but botched.
If not, I would it were.
...have to Athens?
Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
Tell them there I have gold. Look, so I have.
...use for gold.
The best and truest,
For here it sleeps and does no hired harm.
...liest a-nights, Timon?
Under that’s above me. Where feed’st thou
a-days, Apemantus?
...I eat it.
Would poison were obedient and knew my
mind!
...thou send it?
To sauce thy dishes.
...thee. Eat it.
On what I hate I feed not.
...hate a medlar?
Ay, though it look like thee.
...after his means?
Who, without those means thou talk’st of, didst
thou ever know beloved?
... Myself.
I understand thee. Thou hadst some means to
keep a dog.
...to thy flatterers?
Women nearest, but men—men are the things
themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,
Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
...of the men.
Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion
of men and remain a beast with the beasts?
... Ay, Timon.
A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee
t’ 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 dullness would
torment thee, and still thou lived’st but as a breakfast
to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greediness
would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst 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 wouldst be killed by the horse.
Wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the
leopard. Wert thou a leopard, thou wert germane
to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were
jurors on thy life. All thy safety were remotion, and
thy defense absence. What beast couldst thou be
that were not subject to a beast? And what a beast
art thou already that seest not thy loss in
transformation!
...forest of beasts.
How, has the ass broke the wall that thou art
out of the city?
...see thee again.
When there is nothing living but thee, thou
shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar’s dog
than Apemantus.
...the fools alive.
Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
...bad to curse.
All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
...what thou speak’st.
If I name thee.
I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
...rot them off!
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me that thou art alive.
I swoon to see thee.
...thou wouldst burst!
Away, thou tedious rogue!
I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
Timon throws a stone at Apemantus.
... Beast!
Slave!
... Toad!
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
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 gravestone daily. Make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others’ lives may laugh.
(To his gold.)
O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce
’Twixt natural son and sire, thou bright defiler
Of Hymen’s purest bed, thou valiant Mars,
Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian’s lap; thou visible god,
That sold’rest close impossibilities
And mak’st them kiss, that speak’st with every tongue
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts,
Think thy slave, man, rebels, and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!
...thronged to shortly.
Thronged to?
... Ay.
Thy back, I prithee.
...love thy misery.
Long live so, and so die. I am quit.
...Save thee, Timon.
Now, thieves?
...Soldiers, not thieves.
Both, too, and women’s sons.
...much do want.
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 huswife Nature on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?
...birds and fishes.
Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier shapes, for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here’s gold. (He gives them gold.)
Go, suck the subtle blood o’ th’ 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 ’t,
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 stol’n
From gen’ral excrement. Each thing’s a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Has unchecked theft. Love not yourselves. Away!
Rob one another. There’s more gold. (He gives them 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 less for this I give you,
And gold confound you howsoe’er! Amen.
...life.—My dearest master.
Away! What art thou?
...forgot me, sir?
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men.
Then, if thou grant’st thou ’rt a man, I have forgot thee.
...servant of yours.
Then I know thee not.
I never had honest man about me, I. All
I kept were knaves to serve in meat to villains.
...you. He weeps.
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!
...He offers money.
Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
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 mightst 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,
A usuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one?
...making rich yourself.
Look thee, ’tis so. Thou singly honest man,
Here, take. (Timon offers gold.)
The gods out of my misery
Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy,
But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
But let the famished flesh slide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
What thou deniest 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.
...you, my master.
If thou hat’st curses,
Stay not. Fly whilst thou art blest and free.
Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...of his having.
Enter Timon, behind them, from his cave.
...that makes it.
aside
Excellent workman! Thou canst not
paint a man so bad as is thyself.
...youth and opulency.
aside
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.
...offered light. Come.
aside
I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold
That he is worshiped in a baser temple
Than where swine feed!
’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plow’st the foam,
Settlest admirèd reverence in a slave.
To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye
Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey!
Fit I meet them.
He comes forward.
...late noble master.
Have I once lived to see two honest men?
...size of words.
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.
...sweetly felt it.
Ay, you are honest men.
...you our service.
Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
Can you eat roots and drink cold water? No?
...do you service.
You’re honest men. You’ve heard that I have gold.
I am sure you have. Speak truth. You’re honest men.
...friend nor I.
Good honest men. (To the Painter.)
Thou draw’st a counterfeit
Best in all Athens. Thou ’rt indeed the best.
Thou counterfeit’st most lively.
...So-so, my lord.
E’en so, sir, as I say. (To the Poet.)
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-natured 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.
...known to us.
You’ll take it ill.
...thankfully, my lord.
Will you indeed?
...not, worthy lord.
There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave
That mightily deceives you.
...we, my lord?
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom. Yet remain assured
That he’s a made-up villain.
...lord. Nor I.
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 draft,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
I’ll give you gold enough.
...’s know them.
You that way and you this, but two in company.
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an archvillain keeps him company.
(To one.)
If where thou art, two villains shall not be,
Come not near him. (To the other.)
If thou wouldst not reside
But where one villain is, then him abandon.—
Hence, pack. There’s gold. You came for gold, you slaves.
(To one.)
You have work for me. There’s payment. Hence.
(To the other.)
You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
Out, rascal dogs!
Timon drives them out and then exits.
...them, noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his cave.
Thou sun that comforts, burn!—Speak and be hanged!
For each true word a blister, and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o’ th’ tongue,
Consuming it with speaking.
... Worthy Timon—
Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
...greet thee, Timon.
I thank them and would send them back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.
...read them thine.
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.
... Therefore, Timon—
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 agèd men by th’ beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brained war,
Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it
In pity of our agèd 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.
...All’s in vain.
Why, I was writing of my epitaph.
It will be seen tomorrow. 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!
...speak in vain.
But yet I love my country and am not
One that rejoices in the common wrack,
As common bruit doth put it.
...That’s well spoke.
Commend me to my loving countrymen.
...their applauding gates.
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.
...will return again.
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 ax,
And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
...shall find him.
Come not to me again, but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beachèd verge of the salt flood,
Who once a day with his embossèd froth
The turbulent surge shall cover. Thither come
And let my gravestone be your oracle.
Lips, let four 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.
Timon exits.