PhiloWikiConceptsPhilosophersBooksInteractive graph

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare

SCENE II. The Same. A room of state in Timon’s house

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in, Flavius and others attending; and then enter Lord Timon, the Senators, the Athenian Lords, Alcibiades, and Ventidius, which Timon redeemded from prison. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly, like himself. VENTIDIUS. Most honoured Timon, It hath pleased the gods to remember my father’s age And call him to long peace. He is gone happy and has left me rich. Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derived liberty. TIMON. O, by no means, Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love. I gave it freely ever, and there’s none Can truly say he gives if he receives. If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair. VENTIDIUS. A noble spirit! TIMON. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devised at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown; But where there is true friendship there needs none. Pray, sit, more welcome are ye to my fortunes Than my fortunes to me. [_They sit._] FIRST LORD. My lord, we always have confessed it. APEMANTUS. Ho, ho, confessed it? Hanged it, have you not? TIMON. O Apemantus, you are welcome.

APEMANTUS. No, You shall not make me welcome. I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. TIMON. Fie, thou’rt a churl, ye’ve got a humour there Does not become a man; ’tis much to blame. They say, my lords, _ira furor brevis est_, But yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself, For he does neither affect company, Nor is he fit for it indeed. APEMANTUS. Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon. I come to observe; I give thee warning on’t. TIMON. I take no heed of thee. Thou’rt an Athenian, therefore, welcome. I myself would have no power; prithee; let my meat make thee silent. APEMANTUS. I scorn thy meat, ’twould choke me, for I should ne’er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he sees ’em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. Methinks they should invite them without knives. Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There’s much example for ’t. The fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draft, is the readiest man to kill him. ’T has been proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals, Lest they should spy my wind-pipe’s dangerous notes. Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

TIMON. My lord, in heart, and let the health go round. SECOND LORD. Let it flow this way, my good lord. APEMANTUS. Flow this way? A brave fellow! He keeps his tides well. Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here’s that which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne’er left man i’ the mire. This and my food are equals, there’s no odds. Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. _Apemantus’ grace_ Immortal gods, I crave no pelf, I pray for no man but myself. Grant I may never prove so fond To trust man on his oath or bond, Or a harlot for her weeping, Or a dog that seems a-sleeping, Or a keeper with my freedom, Or my friends if I should need ’em. Amen. So fall to’t. Rich men sin, and I eat root. [_He eats and drinks._] Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! TIMON. Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now. ALCIBIADES. My heart is ever at your service, my lord. TIMON. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends. ALCIBIADES. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there’s no meat like ’em. I could wish my best friend at such a feast. APEMANTUS. Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill ’em, and bid me to ’em.

FIRST LORD. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect. TIMON. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you. How had you been my friends else? Why have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends if we should ne’er have need of ’em? They were the most needless creatures living, should we ne’er have use for ’em, and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits, and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort ’tis to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another’s fortunes. O joy’s e’en made away ere’t can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their faults, I drink to you.

APEMANTUS. Thou weep’st to make them drink, Timon. SECOND LORD. Joy had the like conception in our eyes And, at that instant like a babe sprung up. APEMANTUS. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. THIRD LORD. I promise you, my lord, you moved me much. APEMANTUS. Much! [_A tucket sounds._] TIMON. What means that trump? Enter a Servant. How now? SERVANT. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance. TIMON. Ladies? What are their wills? SERVANT. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures. TIMON. I pray, let them be admitted. [_Exit Servant._] Enter Cupid. CUPID. Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all That of his bounties taste! The five best senses Acknowledge thee their patron and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. There Taste, touch, all, pleased from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes. TIMON. They’re welcome all, let ’em have kind admittance. Music, make their welcome! FIRST LORD. You see, my lord, how ample you’re beloved. Music. Enter a masque of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing. APEMANTUS. Hoy-day! What a sweep of vanity comes this way. They dance? They are madwomen. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friend’s gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me. ’T has been done. Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

FIRST LORD. I am so far already in your gifts— ALL. So are we all. Enter a Servant. SERVANT. My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate Newly alighted and come to visit you. TIMON. They are fairly welcome. [_Exit Servant._] FLAVIUS. I beseech your honour, Vouchsafe me a word. It does concern you near. TIMON. Near? Why then, another time I’ll hear thee. I prithee let’s be provided to show them entertainment. FLAVIUS. [_Aside_.] I scarce know how. Enter another Servant. SECOND SERVANT. May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you Four milk-white horses, trapped in silver. TIMON. I shall accept them fairly; let the presents Be worthily entertained. [_Exit Servant._] Enter a third Servant. How now? What news? THIRD SERVANT. Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds. TIMON. I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received, Not without fair reward. [_Exit Servant._] FLAVIUS. [_Aside_.] What will this come to? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer; Nor will he know his purse or yield me this: To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word. He is so kind that he now Pays interest for ’t; his land’s put to their books. Well, would I were gently put out of office Before I were forced out. Happier is he that has no friend to feed Than such that do e’en enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord.

Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.

Open in the reader →