SCENE III.
The woods near the sea-shore. Before TIMON'S cave

Enter TIMON in the woods

  TIMON. 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:
    The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
    The beggar native honour.
    It is the pasture lards the rother'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 smooth'd by that below. The learned pate
    Ducks to the golden fool. All's 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,
    Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads-
    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 th 'April day again. Come, damn'd 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? Th'art quick,
    But yet I'll bury thee. Thou't go, strong thief,
    When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
    Nay, stay thou out for earnest.          [Keeping some gold]

          Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike
                  manner; and PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

  ALCIBIADES. What art thou there? Speak.
  TIMON. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart
    For showing me again the eyes of man!
  ALCIBIADES. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee
    That art thyself a man?
  TIMON. I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
    For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
    That I might love thee something.
  ALCIBIADES. I know thee well;
    But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.
  TIMON. 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.
  PHRYNIA. Thy lips rot off!
  TIMON. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns
    To thine own lips again.
  ALCIBIADES. How came the noble Timon to this change?
  TIMON. 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.
  ALCIBIADES. Noble Timon,
    What friendship may I do thee?
  TIMON. None, but to
    Maintain my opinion.
  ALCIBIADES. What is it, Timon?
  TIMON. Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou wilt
not
    promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art man! If thou dost
    perform, confound thee, for thou art a man!
  ALCIBIADES. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
  TIMON. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperity.
  ALCIBIADES. I see them now; then was a blessed time.
  TIMON. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
  TIMANDRA. Is this th' Athenian minion whom the world
    Voic'd so regardfully?
  TIMON. Art thou Timandra?
  TIMANDRA. Yes.
  TIMON. 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-cheek'd youth
    To the tub-fast and the diet.
  TIMANDRA. Hang thee, monster!
  ALCIBIADES. 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-
  TIMON. I prithee beat thy drum and get thee gone.
  ALCIBIADES. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
  TIMON. How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
    I had rather be alone.
  ALCIBIADES. Why, fare thee well;
    Here is some gold for thee.
  TIMON. Keep it: I cannot eat it.
  ALCIBIADES. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap-
  TIMON. War'st thou 'gainst Athens?
  ALCIBIADES. Ay, Timon, and have cause.
  TIMON. The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
    And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
  ALCIBIADES. Why me, Timon?
  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-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
    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 pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
    And mince it sans remorse. Swear against abjects;
    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.
  ALCIBIADES. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou givest
me,
    Not all thy counsel.
  TIMON. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee!
  PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Give us some gold, good Timon.
    Hast thou more?
  TIMON. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
    And to make whores a bawd. 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,
    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 hang'd,
    No matter. Wear them, betray with them. Whore still;
    Paint till a horse may mire upon your face.
    A pox of wrinkles!
  PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Well, more gold. What then?
    Believe't that we'll do anything for gold.
  TIMON. 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!
  PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. More counsel with more money, bounteous
    Timon.
  TIMON. More whore, more mischief first; I have given you
earnest.
  ALCIBIADES. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon;
    If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.
  TIMON. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.
  ALCIBIADES. I never did thee harm.
  TIMON. Yes, thou spok'st well of me.
  ALCIBIADES. Call'st thou that harm?
  TIMON. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
    Thy beagles with thee.
  ALCIBIADES. We but offend him. Strike.
                                Drum beats. Exeunt all but TIMON
  TIMON. 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 th' abhorred births below crisp heaven
    Whereon Hyperion's quick'ning fire doth shine-
    Yield him, who all thy 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,
    Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts
    And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
    That from it all consideration slips-

                        Enter APEMANTUS

    More man? Plague, plague!
  APEMANTUS. I was directed hither. Men report
    Thou dost affect my manners and dost use them.
  TIMON. 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
    Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!
  APEMANTUS. This is in thee a nature but infected,
    A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
    From change of fortune. 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; hadst thou wealth again
    Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness.
  TIMON. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.
  APEMANTUS. 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'ernight'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-
  TIMON. A fool of thee. Depart.
  APEMANTUS. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
  TIMON. I hate thee worse.
  APEMANTUS. Why?
  TIMON. Thou flatter'st misery.
  APEMANTUS. I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.
  TIMON. Why dost thou seek me out?
  APEMANTUS. To vex thee.
  TIMON. Always a villain's office or a fool's.
    Dost please thyself in't?
  APEMANTUS. Ay.
  TIMON. What, a knave too?
  APEMANTUS. 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.
  TIMON. 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 wouldst have plung'd thyself
    In general riot, melted down thy youth
    In different beds of lust, and never learn'd
    The icy precepts of respect, but followed
    The sug'red 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 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.
  APEMANTUS. Art thou proud yet?
  TIMON. Ay, that I am not thee.
  APEMANTUS. I, that I was
    No prodigal.
  TIMON. 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]
  APEMANTUS. Here! I will mend thy feast.
                                             [Offering him food]
  TIMON. First mend my company: take away thyself.
  APEMANTUS. So I shall mend mine own by th' lack of thine.
  TIMON. 'Tis not well mended so; it is but botch'd.
    If not, I would it were.
  APEMANTUS. What wouldst thou have to Athens?
  TIMON. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
    Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
  APEMANTUS. Here is no use for gold.
  TIMON. The best and truest;
    For here it sleeps and does no hired harm.
  APEMANTUS. Where liest a nights, Timon?
  TIMON. Under that's above me.
    Where feed'st thou a days, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. Where my stomach. finds meat; or rather, where I eat
it.
  TIMON. Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind!
  APEMANTUS. Where wouldst thou send it?
  TIMON. To sauce thy dishes.
  APEMANTUS. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the
    extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy
    perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags

    thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary. There's
a
    medlar for thee; eat it.
  TIMON. On what I hate I feed not.
  APEMANTUS. Dost hate a medlar?
  TIMON. Ay, though it look like thee.
  APEMANTUS. An th' hadst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst
have
    loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know
unthrift
    that was beloved after his means?
  TIMON. Who, without those means thou talk'st of, didst thou
ever
    know belov'd?
  APEMANTUS. Myself.
  TIMON. I understand thee: thou hadst some means to keep a dog.
  APEMANTUS. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare
to
    thy flatterers?
  TIMON. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves.
What
    wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy
    power?
  APEMANTUS. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
  TIMON. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men,
and
    remain a beast with the beasts?
  APEMANTUS. Ay, Timon.
  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 accus'd by
the
    ass. If thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee;
and
    still thou liv'dst 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 bear, thou wouldst be kill'd
by
    the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seiz'd 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 couldst
thou
    be that were not subject to a beast? And what beast art thou
    already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!
  APEMANTUS. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou
    mightst have hit upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is
    become a forest of beasts.
  TIMON. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the
    city?
  APEMANTUS. 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.
  TIMON. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be
    welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.
  APEMANTUS. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
  TIMON. Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
  APEMANTUS. A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.
  TIMON. All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
  APEMANTUS. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.
  TIMON. If I name thee.
    I'll beat thee- but I should infect my hands.
  APEMANTUS. I would my tongue could rot them off!
  TIMON. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
    Choler does kill me that thou art alive;
    I swoon to see thee.
  APEMANTUS. Would thou wouldst burst!
  TIMON. Away,
    Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose
    A stone by thee.                     [Throws a stone at him]
  APEMANTUS. Beast!
  TIMON. Slave!
  APEMANTUS. Toad!
  TIMON. 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.
    [Looks at the 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, lov'd, 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!
  APEMANTUS. Would 'twere so!
    But not till I am dead. I'll say th' hast gold.
    Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.
  TIMON. Throng'd to?
  APEMANTUS. Ay.
  TIMON. Thy back, I prithee.
  APEMANTUS. Live, and love thy misery!
  TIMON. Long live so, and so die! [Exit APEMANTUS] I am quit.
More
    things like men? Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

                       Enter the BANDITTI

  FIRST BANDIT. 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.
  SECOND BANDIT. It is nois'd he hath a mass of treasure.
  THIRD BANDIT. 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?
  SECOND BANDIT. True; for he bears it not about him. 'Tis hid.
  FIRST BANDIT. Is not this he?
  BANDITTI. Where?
  SECOND BANDIT. 'Tis his description.
  THIRD BANDIT. He; I know him.
  BANDITTI. Save thee, Timon!
  TIMON. Now, thieves?
  BANDITTI. Soldiers, not thieves.
  TIMON. Both too, and women's sons.
  BANDITTI. We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
  TIMON. 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?
  FIRST BANDIT. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
    As beasts and birds and fishes.
  TIMON. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
    You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
    That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not
    In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
    In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
    Here's 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 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 less for this
    I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er!
    Amen.
  THIRD BANDIT. Has almost charm'd me from my profession by
    persuading me to it.
  FIRST BANDIT. 'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus
advises
    us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
  SECOND BANDIT. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my
    trade.
  FIRST BANDIT. Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no
time so
    miserable but a man may be true.              Exeunt THIEVES

                         Enter FLAVIUS, to TIMON

  FLAVIUS. 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 desp'rate 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!
    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. Away! What art thou?
  FLAVIUS. Have you forgot me, sir?
  TIMON. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
    Then, if thou grant'st th'art a man, I have forgot thee.
  FLAVIUS. An honest poor servant of yours.
  TIMON. Then I know thee not.
    I never had honest man about me, I.
    All I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
  FLAVIUS. The gods are witness,
    Nev'r did poor steward wear a truer grief
    For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
  TIMON. 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!
  FLAVIUS. 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.
  TIMON. 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,
    If not a usuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts,
    Expecting in return twenty for one?
  FLAVIUS. 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.
  TIMON. 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 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.
  FLAVIUS. O, let me stay
    And comfort you, my master.
  TIMON. 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.
                                                Exeunt severally

Timon comes out of his cave and considers the sun and the earth. He hopes the sun breeds plagues, and that all of like nature will come to hate each other. He rages about flatterers, says all things of men are devious and villainous, that he abhors all society of mankind, and he hopes it comes to destruction. He digs for roots in the ground, and suddenly finds gold! Astonished to have found gold when he now needs it least, Timon speaks of the awful power of wealth, how gold, "this yellow slave" , makes or breaks religion, makes thieves into senators, and convinces aged widows to wed again. He orders the earth to behave normally, to hide the gold and reveal roots, and reburies the gold, while keeping some of it. Then Alcibiades enters, with one prostitute on each arm. He doesn't recognize Timon at first, and asks him who he is. Timon introduces himself as Misanthropos, a hater of mankind. Alcibiades recognizes him, and asks him how he changed so much. Alcibiades offers his friendship, but Timon turns it down, saying that no man can promise friendship and genuinely perform it. Alcibiades says he would like to help Timon, but he has little gold to offer him, yet gives him a small amount. Timon turns it down, and Alcibiades promises to help him when he has sacked Athens. Timon perks up at the mention of an assault on Athens. He gives Alcibiades gold to support his campaign, urging him to kill everyone, even old men, virgins, children, women or priests. Alcibiades takes the gold, but hesitates at taking his advice. The prostitutes ask for gold too, and he gives it to them, urging them to continue in their profession, spreading illness among all their patrons. He urges them to give diseases to the men of Athens, to bring all men to squalid deaths. Alcibiades and the prostitutes prepare to depart for Athens, and Timon says he hopes he never sees Alcibiades again. Alcibiades is surprised, saying he never harmed Timon. Yet Timon shoos him away. Timon continues digging in the ground for edible roots, speaking with disgust of mankind. Then Apemantus enters. Timon curses him, but Apemantus absorbs his slights, noting that his recent change in fortune has made Timon unlike himself, while his former flatterers still live in silk-lined comfort, forgetting Timon ever existed. Apemantus says it's only fair that Timon has sunk to this, for his wealth was frittered away in generosity to unworthy people, all villainous rascals. Apemantus dares Timon to try to get the creatures of nature to flatter him now. Timon tells him to leave, but Apemantus says he loves Timon more now than ever before. Timon accuses him of flattering his misery. Timon asks why Apemantus has come. Apemantus replies that he intends only to vex Timon. Apemantus says Timon has become a beggar by his own compulsion, and would gladly be a rich man again if he could. Timon has willed himself into misery, says Apemantus. Timon insists Apemantus's experiences have been different, since he was never in fortune's favor. If Apemantus had lived Timon's life, he would have wasted himself away without reaching respectability. But Timon was like an oak whose leaves blew off in one blast of wintry air, and now must nakedly bear misfortune. It's harder for him, he says, since he never experienced it before, but Apemantus is used to suffering. Why does Apemantus hate mankind, Timon asks, when men have never flattered him? If Apemantus curses anyone, it should be his father, who left him to be raised by a beggar woman. Timon urges him to leave, saying if he had not been born the most miserable of men, he would have been a hateful flatterer. Apemantus asks him if he is done ranting, and offers him food. Timon tells Apemantus to go back to Athens. Timon continues cursing Apemantus, who observes that Timon has to be an extremist: "the middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends" . Timon asks Apemantus if anyone ever loved him; Apemantus replies that only he himself has. Timon asks what Apemantus would do with the world, if he had the power. Apemantus says he would give it to the beasts, but Timon says that wouldn't help him, since there would be no beast that he could be that would not be subject to another beast. Apemantus says Timon has hit on something, as Athens has already become a forest of beasts. Timon and Apemantus insult each other, and Timon throws a rock at Apemantus to try to get him to leave. Timon considers his epitaph, for his hopefully imminent death. He looks on his gold, remarks on its power to influence the actions of men, and hopes it will reduce mankind do the behavior of low beasts. But Apemantus predicts throngs will arrive to seek the gold soon. Apemantus sees bandits approaching, and takes leave of Timon. The thieves speak among themselves, wondering how to get the gold from Timon. They approach Timon, saying they are soldiers. But Timon suspects they are thieves, and gives them gold, urging them on to do villainy to men, to steal money and take lives. Discoursing in thievery, Timon says the sun is a thief who robs the sea, the moon thieves from the sun, the sea steals its tides from the moon, and the earth is a thief, stealing its fertility from excrement. Everything is a thief, therefore, and everyone also. Timon sends the bandits to Athens, tells them to break into shops and steal as much as he has given them. The thieves are impressed by his speech, so much so that Timon nearly convinces them to leave their profession than to go on stealing. They realize Timon advises them thus out of hatred for mankind, not out of enthusiasm for thievery. But they decide to head to Athens before giving up their trade, and exit. Flavius arrives, speaking sadly about his fallen master. How vile is friendship, he says, that it has made Timon fall so far. When Timon sees him, he asks if he recognizes him. Timon says he has forgotten all men, so Flavius says he was once Timon's poor honest servant. Yet Timon says he had no honest men about him. Flavius insists his grief is honest, and Timon sees he weeps. Timon softens to Flavius, since his weeping demonstrates a sense of pity. Flavius offers his money to Timon. Timon is astonished, and thinks that the kindness of his servant is nearly enough to make him change his mind about abandoning mankind. He admits that there is one honest man among the villains of the world, and he is but a servant. Timon would have hated all mankind, but one man escapes his curses. He says Flavius is more honest than he is wise, for by betraying Timon he could have found a much better job. And then he asks Flavius if his kindness is a plot, "A usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts, / expecting in return twenty for one?" . Flavius insists that what he offers is real kindness and love, and he offers to take care of Timon's comfort in the wilderness. He says his only wish is to become rich so that he might make Timon rich again. Timon gives Flavius money on the condition that he lives apart from mankind, that he never gives anything to even the skinniest beggar. Flavius begs to stay, but Timon sends him away.

Commentary Timon escapes Athens hoping to be left alone, but he has barely a moment to himself in the wilderness. He has just enough time to discover gold, an unfortunate irony for a man who has just been broken by an absence of gold. But Timon can't go back now, so he distributes the gold to those he believes can use it to bring about the downfall of Athens. He gives it to Alcibiades to help in his campaign against Athens and to the prostitutes to urge them to infect as much of the population as they can. He gives it to the bandits and urges them to rob Athens--but he makes them so rich that they consider quitting their profession! But overall he wishes destruction and ruin on his former home. Even in the wilderness people line up for Timon's attention. Apemantus arrives, claiming he has come only to annoy Timon, and doing just that. Yet the two pause in their insult slinging long enough to have a reasonable conversation about their fates, how Timon's fall is harder because he had been raised so high. Yet the two men don't seem to come to any greater closeness through this exchange, even through a kinship of hating humanity. In the feast scene, Apemantus played the observer, but here he must interact with Timon--yet to what end? He achieves no understanding with Timon, and is the only character who leaves without any gold. Then Flavius arrives, demonstrating to Timon that he had one honest man in his company in Athens, and convincing him that he need not curse the entire human race. Timon notes that this one honest man is a servant, not a lord or a senator or a man of any stature. But it's too late for Timon to benefit from this information; he gives Flavius his newly acquired gold and prepares to die. Yet Athens is redeemed, if not in Timon's eyes; for one good man among the masses may be enough to make Athens worth saving.


ACT V. SCENE I.
The woods. Before TIMON's cave

Enter POET and PAINTER

  PAINTER. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he
    abides.
  POET. to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that
he's
    so full of gold?
  PAINTER. Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra
had
    gold of him. He likewise enrich'd 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?
  PAINTER. 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 suppos'd distress of his; it will
show
    honestly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with
what
    they travail for, if it be just and true report that goes of
his
    having.
  POET. What have you now to present unto him?
  PAINTER. 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.
  PAINTER. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' th'
time;
    it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance 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 cave

  TIMON. [Aside] 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.
  TIMON. [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.
  POET. Nay, let's seek him;
    Then do we sin against our own estate
    When we may profit meet and come too late.
  PAINTER. True;
    When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,
    Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.
    Come.
  TIMON. [Aside] 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 rig'st the bark and plough'st the foam,
    Settlest admired reverence in a slave.
    To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye
    Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!
    Fit I meet them.                   [Advancing from his cave]
  POET. Hail, worthy Timon!
  PAINTER. Our late noble master!
  TIMON. 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.
  TIMON. 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.
  PAINTER. He and myself
    Have travail'd in the great show'r of your gifts,
    And sweetly felt it.
  TIMON. Ay, you are honest men.
  PAINTER. We are hither come to offer you our service.
  TIMON. 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.
  TIMON. Y'are honest men. Y'have heard that I have gold;
    I am sure you have. Speak truth; y'are honest men.
  PAINTER. So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
    Came not my friend nor I.
  TIMON. Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit
    Best in all Athens. Th'art indeed the best;
    Thou counterfeit'st most lively.
  PAINTER. So, so, my lord.
  TIMON. E'en so, sir, as I say. [To 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-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.
  TIMON. You'll take it ill.
  BOTH. Most thankfully, my lord.
  TIMON. Will you indeed?
  BOTH. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
  TIMON. There's never a one of you but trusts a knave
    That mightily deceives you.
  BOTH. Do we, my lord?
  TIMON. 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.
  PAINTER. I know not such, my lord.
  POET. Nor I.
  TIMON. 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.
  TIMON. You that way, and you this- but two in company;
    Each man apart, all single and alone,
    Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
    [To the PAINTER] If, where thou art, two villians shall not
be,
    Come not near him. [To the POET] If thou wouldst not reside
    But where one villain is, then him abandon.-
    Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves.
    [To the PAINTER] You have work for me; there's payment;
hence!
    [To the POET] You are an alchemist; make gold of that.-
    Out, rascal dogs!                [Beats and drives them out]

                    Enter FLAVIUS and two SENATORS

  FLAVIUS. It is 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.
  FIRST SENATOR. Bring us to his cave.
    It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
    To speak with Timon.
  SECOND SENATOR. 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,
    The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
    And chance it as it may.
  FLAVIUS. 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 out of his cave

  TIMON. Thou sun that comforts, burn. Speak and be hang'd!
    For each true word a blister, and each false
    Be as a cauterizing to the root o' th' tongue,
    Consuming it with speaking!
  FIRST SENATOR. Worthy Timon-
  TIMON. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
  FIRST SENATOR. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
  TIMON. I thank them; and would send them back the plague,
    Could I but catch it for them.
  FIRST SENATOR. 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.
  SECOND SENATOR. 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 it own fail, restraining aid to Timon,
    And send forth us to make their sorrowed render,
    Together with a recompense more fruitful
    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.
  TIMON. 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.
  FIRST SENATOR. 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.
  SECOND SENATOR. And shakes his threat'ning sword
    Against the walls of Athens.
  FIRST SENATOR. Therefore, Timon-
  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 aged men by th' 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.
  FLAVIUS. Stay not, all's in vain.
  TIMON. 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!
  FIRST SENATOR. We speak in vain.
  TIMON. But yet I love my country, and am not
    One that rejoices in the common wreck,
    As common bruit doth put it.
  FIRST SENATOR. That's well spoke.
  TIMON. Commend me to my loving countrymen-
  FIRST SENATOR. These words become your lips as they pass
through
    them.
  SECOND SENATOR. And enter in our ears like great triumphers
    In their applauding gates.
  TIMON. 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.
  FIRST SENATOR. I like this well; he will return again.
  TIMON. 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.
  FLAVIUS. Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.
  TIMON. Come not to me again; but say to Athens
    Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
    Upon the beached verge of the salt flood,
    Who once a day with his embossed froth
    The turbulent surge shall cover. Thither come,
    And let my gravestone 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 into his cave
  FIRST SENATOR. His discontents are unremovably
    Coupled to nature.
  SECOND SENATOR. Our hope in him is dead. Let us return
    And strain what other means is left unto us
    In our dear peril.
  FIRST SENATOR. It requires swift foot.                  Exeunt

SCENE II.
Before the walls of Athens

Enter two other SENATORS with a MESSENGER

  FIRST SENATOR. Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files
    As full as thy report?
  MESSENGER. I have spoke the least.
    Besides, his expedition promises
    Present approach.
  SECOND SENATOR. We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon.
  MESSENGER. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend,
    Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd,
    Yet our old love had a particular force,
    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' th' cause against your city,
    In part for his sake mov'd.

               Enter the other SENATORS, from TIMON

  FIRST SENATOR. Here come our brothers.
  THIRD SENATOR. 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

The Poet and Painter come to Timon's home in the wilderness, discussing how they have heard that Timon is rich with gold. They suspect Timon's apparent bankruptcy has just been a trial for his friends, so the two artists take it upon themselves to be extremely kind to him in his distress so they will be more in favor when Timon returns to Athens. Yet neither man has any artwork to present to Timon. But they are both convinced that the promise of future work is as good as the work itself. Timon sees the two men, and speaks badly about them to himself, noting that they are flatterers and not even good artists. He approaches them, and they fawn over him. He asks them if they are two honest men. The Poet speaks pompously of Timon's misfortune, while Timon keeps asking them if they're honest. They say they've come to offer their services, but he asks if they have not come because they heard he had gold. They admit they heard about the gold, but they didn't come for it. He tells them they have but one fault, that they each trust a rotten man who deceives them. Timon says he'll give them gold as soon as they find these villains that hound them, and tells them to go in opposite directions to search for the villain who pursues them--and he sends them off to chase each other. Two Senators go with Flavius to Timon's cave, saying they have promised the Athenians that they will talk with Timon. They arrive at the cave and call to Timon, who emerges, wishing plague on them when they greet him. The senators say they have come to beg Timon to return to Athens. Apparently the people of the republic, who so rarely change their mind, have reconsidered Timon's fate, and decided they were unfair to him. In apology, they send for him and offer much wealth and love if he should return. Timon thinks they want to bewitch him, and curses them. The senators say that if Timon comes to Athens they will make him a leader, and he can help them defend against Alcibiades. But Timon is uninterested; he says he doesn't care if Alcibiades sacks Athens and kills his countrymen, from the youngest child to the oldest citizen. The senators see they have come in vain. Timon speaks of his epitaph, which will be on display soon when he dies. Yet, he says, he does love his country, and he doesn't rejoice in its ruin. He tells the senators to commend him to the citizens of Athens, to pass on his advice to them about how to avoid Alcibiades's wrath. Enthusiastically the senators listen as Timon tells of a tree near his cave that he will soon cut down. To stop the misery of Alcibiades's attack, Timon says, anyone who wants should come to the tree before Timon cuts it down, and hang himself. Then Timon tells the senators not to come again, but to tell Athenians that Timon has died, and henceforth his grave will be their oracle. He curses humanity again and withdraws to his cave. The senators leave.

Commentary More sycophants come to Timon's cave in the persons of the Poet and the Painter. He repeatedly asks them if they are honest men, which they are unable to admit to being. But Timon delights in sending them off to chase each other in the forest before the senators arrive. Why the Athenian senators have decided they want Timon back is a mystery. Have they too heard that he has found gold, and do they hope to draw him back to Athens so he may distribute more wealth? Or are they honestly sorry for what has happened to Timon? Flavius, who in scenes before was revealed to be the one honest man in Timon's radius, brings the senators to Timon, which may be a marker of the validity of their offer. Yet they also seem to want Timon in Athens as a weapon against Alcibiades; perhaps since Timon gave money to Alcibiades to raise an army, they think he won't attack Athens if Timon decides he supports Athens. Yet they all underestimate Timon's transformation if they think for a second that he cares about Athens. Not once does he say a kind thing about the city, though he fools the senators into thinking he has some actual advice for the citizens when he offers his tree for hanging. Since leaving Athens, Timon has been ready for full-scale hermit-hood, but no one will leave him alone long enough. Hence he foretells his death, as if dying is the only way he can get these people, who insist on appearing at his cave door to ask him questions, to leave him alone.


SCENE III.
The TIMON's cave, and a rude tomb seen

Enter a SOLDIER in the woods, seeking TIMON

  SOLDIER. 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 this; here does not live a man.
    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

SCENE IV.
Before the walls of Athens

Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers before Athens

  ALCIBIADES. Sound to this coward and lascivious town
    Our terrible approach.

       Sound a parley. The SENATORS appear upon 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.
  FIRST SENATOR. 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.
  SECOND SENATOR. 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.
  FIRST SENATOR. These walls of ours
    Were not erected by their hands from whom
    You have receiv'd your griefs; nor are they such
    That these great tow'rs, trophies, and schools, should fall
    For private faults in them.
  SECOND SENATOR. Nor are they living
    Who were the motives that you first went out;
    Shame, that they wanted cunning, 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 loathes- take thou the destin'd tenth,
    And by the hazard of the spotted die
    Let die the spotted.
  FIRST SENATOR. All have not offended;
    For those that were, it is not square to take,
    On those that are, revenge: 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 all together.
  SECOND SENATOR. What thou wilt,
    Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
    Than hew to't with thy sword.
  FIRST SENATOR. Set but thy foot
    Against our rampir'd gates and they shall ope,
    So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before
    To say thou't enter friendly.
  SECOND SENATOR. 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
    Shall make their harbour in our town till we
    Have seal'd thy full desire.
  ALCIBIADES. 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 fears
    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 render'd to your public laws
    At heaviest answer.
  BOTH. 'Tis most nobly spoken.
  ALCIBIADES. Descend, and keep your words.
                       [The SENATORS descend and open the gates]

                 Enter a SOLDIER as a Messenger

  SOLDIER. My noble General, Timon is dead;
    Entomb'd upon the very hem o' th' sea;
    And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which
    With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
    Interprets for my poor ignorance.

                  ALCIBIADES reads the Epitaph

    '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
      gait.'
    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

THE END

Two more Senators discuss the fate of Athens and Timon. A messenger has heard that another messenger was sent from Alcibiades to Timon, to urge working together against Athens. They senators agree that it is more important than ever to lure Timon back to Athens. But the senators who spoke to Timon in the last scene enter, and declare he is a lost cause. A soldier in the woods seeks Timon. He comes upon a gravestone, but is unable to read the writing on the stone. He takes a rubbing of the words to his superiors, but leaves believing Timon to be dead. Alcibiades and his forces approach Athens. Several senators enter, and Alcibiades tells them that the time when he would crouch under the shadow of their power is past. The senators say they have tried to soothe Alcibiades's wrongs, with gestures greater than his grievances. Plus they have tried to woo Timon back to Athens. They were not all unkind, not enough to deserve war, they say. The senators go on to say that the people who raised the walls of Athens are not the same ones who slighted Alcibiades, and those who caused Alcibiades's banishment are no longer living. They welcome him to march into the city, but ask him not to kill everyone. Rather, they say, choose by lot and kill some, but not all, since the entire population has not offended Alcibiades. Crimes, they say, are not inherited. Enter the city with friendliness, they ask, and make some gesture of kindness. Alcibiades makes such a gesture, and asks that the senators send out his and Timon's enemies for punishment, and he will harm no one else. And he determines to make no other disturbance in the city. Then the soldier enters with the rubbing from Timon's grave. Alcibiades reads the epitaph, which says that Timon lies dead, a man whom everyone hated. Alcibiades says that Timon expressed well how he felt toward the end of his life. Though he scorned humanity, Timon nevertheless was well respected, he says, and he hopes his faults may be forgiven. Then he enters the city, with hopes for peace.

Commentary Alcibiades has now become Timon's champion, mysteriously. Presumably Timon's gift of gold and his urging to wreak havoc on Athens was enough to convince Alcibiades that his goal in attacking Athens should be to punish those who slighted him and Timon. Timon's real advice, of course, was to cause as much damage in Athens as possible, not to just punish a few pompous lords. Yet Alcibiades is restrained in his assault on Athens. At the end of the play, Timon is honored as an honorable man. Yet is it again because he made a gift of gold to Alcibiades, and not because he had any real friends? When Timon's fortunes turned and he fled Athens, no one thought much of his honor. Yet later his servants and apparently everyone else in Athens thought he was worthy enough to try to lure back to Athens. Perhaps Timon's friends made up only a small part of the population of Athens; thus the actions of a small group convinced Timon to curse the entire city and humanity in general. Why, then, could such an equally small group who favored him be unable to change his mind back? The play ends with many questions about everyone's various intents. Did the citizens of Athens want Timon back in Athens because of his newly found gold? If so, they too were merely flattering him. Did Alcibiades really want to defend Timon or was he only doing it for the gold? Did Timon leave Athens in a rage because a few lords, who were later punished by Alcibiades, were cruel to him, when the rest of the city liked him? Or did everyone always like him best for his money? All these intentions are impossible to know, which is precisely the reason that Timon presumably disappeared into the wilderness. He couldn't figure out what anyone wanted out of him, but it certainly wasn't uncomplicated friendship. Once money was involved, everything became complex, and no one's intentions remained honest and clear. So Timon was an extremist; he began believing the best about everyone, believing generosity paid off, and enjoying giving things to his friends. And he died believing that he had no friends, everyone hated him, generosity was a waste, and there were  no honest men. The real truth was probably somewhere in between. But Timon was not an astute enough student of human nature to see the truth in the middle path.


ACT I. SCENE I.
Athens. TIMON'S house

Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, and MERCER, at several
doors

  POET. Good day, sir.
  PAINTER. I am glad y'are well.
  POET. I have not seen you long; how goes the world?
  PAINTER. It wears, sir, as it grows.
  POET. Ay, that's well known.
    But what particular rarity? What strange,
    Which manifold record not matches? See,
    Magic of bounty, all these spirits thy power
    Hath conjur'd to attend! I know the merchant.
  PAINTER. I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.
  MERCHANT. O, 'tis a worthy lord!
  JEWELLER. Nay, that's most fix'd.
  MERCHANT. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,
    To an untirable and continuate goodness.
    He passes.
  JEWELLER. I have a jewel here-
  MERCHANT. O, pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir?
  JEWELLER. If he will touch the estimate. But for that-
  POET. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,
    It stains the glory in that happy verse
    Which aptly sings the good.
  MERCHANT. [Looking at the jewel] 'Tis a good form.
  JEWELLER. And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
  PAINTER. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
    To the great lord.
  POET. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
    Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
    From whence 'tis nourish'd. The fire i' th' 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?
  PAINTER. A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
  POET. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
    Let's see your piece.
  PAINTER. 'Tis a good piece.
  POET. So 'tis; this comes off well and excellent.
  PAINTER. Indifferent.
  POET. Admirable. How this grace
    Speaks his own standing! What a mental power
    This eye shoots forth! How big imagination
    Moves in this lip! To th' dumbness of the gesture
    One might interpret.
  PAINTER. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
    Here is a touch; is't good?
  POET. I will say of it
    It tutors nature. Artificial strife
    Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

              Enter certain SENATORS, and pass over

  PAINTER. How this lord is followed!
  POET. The senators of Athens- happy man!
  PAINTER. 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 tax. 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.
  PAINTER. How shall I understand you?
  POET. I will unbolt to you.
    You see how all conditions, how all minds-
    As well of glib and slipp'ry creatures as
    Of grave and austere quality, tender down
    Their services to Lord Timon. His large fortune,
    Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
    Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
    All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-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.
  PAINTER. 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' th' mount
    Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures
    That labour on the bosom of this sphere
    To propagate their states. Amongst them all
    Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd
    One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,
    Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
    Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
    Translates his rivals.
  PAINTER. '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 air.
  PAINTER. Ay, marry, what of these?
  POET. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
    Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants,
    Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
    Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
    Not one accompanying his declining foot.
  PAINTER. 'Tis common.
    A thousand moral paintings I can show
    That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
    More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
    To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
    The foot above the head.

         Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself
          courteously to every suitor, a MESSENGER from
         VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other
                       servants following

  TIMON. Imprison'd is he, say you?
  MESSENGER. Ay, my good lord. Five talents is his debt;
    His means most short, his creditors most strait.
    Your honourable letter he desires
    To those have shut him up; which failing,
    Periods his comfort.
  TIMON. Noble Ventidius! Well.
    I am not of that feather to shake of
    My friend when he must need me. I do know him
    A gentleman that well deserves a help,
    Which he shall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him.
  MESSENGER. Your lordship ever binds him.
  TIMON. Commend me to him; I will send his ransom;
    And being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me.
    'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
    But to support him after. Fare you well.
  MESSENGER. All happiness to your honour!                  Exit

                      Enter an OLD ATHENIAN

  OLD ATHENIAN. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
  TIMON. Freely, good father.
  OLD ATHENIAN. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
  TIMON. I have so; what of him?
  OLD ATHENIAN. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
  TIMON. Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!
  LUCILIUS. Here, at your lordship's service.
  OLD ATHENIAN. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,
    By night frequents my house. I am a man
    That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift,
    And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd
    Than one which holds a trencher.
  TIMON. Well; what further?
  OLD ATHENIAN. One only daughter have I, no kin else,
    On whom I may confer what I have got.
    The maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a bride,
    And I have bred her at my dearest cost
    In qualities of the best. This man of thine
    Attempts her love; I prithee, noble lord,
    Join with me to forbid him her resort;
    Myself have spoke in vain.
  TIMON. The man is honest.
  OLD ATHENIAN. Therefore he will be, Timon.
    His honesty rewards him in itself;
    It must not bear my daughter.
  TIMON. Does she love him?
  OLD ATHENIAN. She is young and apt:
    Our own precedent passions do instruct us
    What levity's in youth.
  TIMON. Love you the maid?
  LUCILIUS. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
  OLD ATHENIAN. If in her marriage my consent be missing,
    I call the gods to witness I will choose
    Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
    And dispossess her all.
  TIMON. How shall she be endow'd,
    If she be mated with an equal husband?
  OLD ATHENIAN. Three talents on the present; in future, all.
  TIMON. 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 ATHENIAN. Most noble lord,
    Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
  TIMON. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.
  LUCILIUS. Humbly I thank your lordship. Never may
    That state or fortune fall into my keeping
    Which is not owed to you!
                                Exeunt LUCILIUS and OLD ATHENIAN
  POET. [Presenting his poem] Vouchsafe my labour, and long live
your lordship!
  TIMON. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon;
    Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
  PAINTER. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
    Your lordship to accept.
  TIMON. Painting is welcome.
    The painting is almost the natural man;
    For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
    He is but outside; these pencill'd figures are
    Even such as they give out. I like your work,
    And you shall find I like it; wait attendance
    Till you hear further from me.
  PAINTER. The gods preserve ye!
  TIMON. Well fare you, gentleman. Give me your hand;
    We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
    Hath suffered under praise.
  JEWELLER. What, my lord! Dispraise?
  TIMON. A mere satiety of commendations;
    If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
    It would unclew me quite.
  JEWELLER. My lord, 'tis rated
    As those which sell would give; but you well know
    Things of like value, differing in the owners,
    Are prized by their masters. Believe't, dear lord,
    You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
  TIMON. Well mock'd.

                      Enter APEMANTUS

  MERCHANT. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
    Which all men speak with him.
  TIMON. Look who comes here; will you be chid?
  JEWELLER. We'll bear, with your lordship.
  MERCHANT. He'll spare none.
  TIMON. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
  APEMANTUS. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
    When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
  TIMON. Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou know'st them not.
  APEMANTUS. Are they not Athenians?
  TIMON. Yes.
  APEMANTUS. Then I repent not.
  JEWELLER. You know me, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. Thou know'st I do; I call'd thee by thy name.
  TIMON. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
  APEMANTUS. Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
  TIMON. Whither art going?
  APEMANTUS. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
  TIMON. That's a deed thou't die for.
  APEMANTUS. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' law.
  TIMON. How lik'st thou this picture, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. The best, for the innocence.
  TIMON. Wrought he not well that painted it?
  APEMANTUS. He wrought better that made the painter; and yet
he's
    but a filthy piece of work.
  PAINTER. Y'are a dog.
  APEMANTUS. Thy mother's of my generation; what's she, if I be a
dog?
  TIMON. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. No; I eat not lords.
  TIMON. An thou shouldst, thou'dst anger ladies.
  APEMANTUS. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.
  TIMON. That's a lascivious apprehension.
  APEMANTUS. So thou apprehend'st it take it for thy labour.
  TIMON. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a
man a doit.
  TIMON. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
  APEMANTUS. Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!
  POET. How now, philosopher!
  APEMANTUS. Thou liest.
  POET. Art not one?
  APEMANTUS. Yes.
  POET. Then I lie not.
  APEMANTUS. Art not a poet?
  POET. Yes.
  APEMANTUS. Then thou liest. Look in thy last work, where thou
hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
  POET. That's not feign'd- he is so.
  APEMANTUS. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
    labour. He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' th'
flatterer.
    Heavens, that I were a lord!
  TIMON. What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. E'en as Apemantus does now: hate a lord with my
heart.
  TIMON. What, thyself?
  APEMANTUS. Ay.
  TIMON. Wherefore?
  APEMANTUS. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.- Art not thou
a merchant?
  MERCHANT. Ay, Apemantus.
  APEMANTUS. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!
  MERCHANT. If traffic do it, the gods do it.
  APEMANTUS. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee!

                Trumpet sounds. Enter a MESSENGER

  TIMON. What trumpet's that?
  MESSENGER. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
    All of companionship.
  TIMON. Pray entertain them; give them guide to us.
                                          Exeunt some attendants
    You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence
    Till I have thank'd you. When dinner's done
    Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

                Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest

    Most welcome, sir!                             [They salute]
  APEMANTUS. So, so, there!
    Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
    That there should be small love amongst these sweet knaves,
    And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
    Into baboon and monkey.
  ALCIBIADES. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
    Most hungerly on your sight.
  TIMON. Right welcome, sir!
    Ere we depart we'll share a bounteous time
    In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
                                        Exeunt all but APEMANTUS

                        Enter two LORDS

  FIRST LORD. What time o' day is't, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. Time to be honest.
  FIRST LORD. That time serves still.
  APEMANTUS. The more accursed thou that still omit'st it.
  SECOND LORD. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast.
  APEMANTUS. Ay; to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.
  SECOND LORD. Fare thee well, fare thee well.
  APEMANTUS. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
  SECOND LORD. Why, Apemantus?
  APEMANTUS. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to
give thee none.
  FIRST LORD. Hang thyself.
  APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy
requests to thy friend.
  SECOND LORD. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence.
  APEMANTUS. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' th' ass.  Exit
  FIRST LORD. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in
    And taste Lord Timon's bounty? He outgoes
    The very heart of kindness.
  SECOND LORD. He pours it out: Plutus, the god of gold,
    Is but his steward; no meed but he repays
    Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him
    But breeds the giver a return exceeding
    All use of quittance.
  FIRST LORD. The noblest mind he carries
    That ever govern'd man.
  SECOND LORD. Long may he live in fortunes! shall we in?
  FIRST LORD. I'll keep you company.                      Exeunt

The scene is laid in the hall of Timons house. As the curtain rises, one hears the conversation between the poet, painter, jeweler, and merchant. As the action begins Timon exercises his Magic of bounty, that is, the power of generosity which is equal to the magicians power. A reflection of world is clearly shown through the ways, which are quite familiar to those who live in it. The poet and the painter are conversing. The poet questions "How goes the world?" The painter answers, "it wears Sir as it passes away." This means that, the world is deteriorating with time. The poet compares his poetry to gum, which flows steadily and unlike the flint which, has to be struck to produce fire. What he means here is that, poetic inspiration does not needs external stimulus. The poet is eager to present his poem to Timon, the patron, and hopes that he will sponsor the publication. The Senators of Athens happy men The poet envies the Senators for their position and because they are Timons friends and equals. He implies the truth that the friends are attracted by Timons wealth. The painter shows his painting and the poet praises him for bringing out in his picture Timons superhuman virtues, that is his mental power, big imagination, and his grace- all real and impressive human qualities. The painter feels that painting is more expressive than poetry. Both the artist live by exploiting their art. When they finally gain audience with Timon, the poet shows his true appreciation for Timon. He, through his poem, warns Timon to watch out for those who are with him when the goddess of fortune is favorable to him. These very people might desert him when The Goddess turns her back to him. The readers learn that, Timons friend, Ventidius, is in prison for debt. Timon offers to pay five talents to release Ventidius. An old Athenian arrives at Timons house. The old Athenian is against getting his daughter married to a penniless servant, Lucius, who is Timons servant. He wants Timon to order his servant to stop meeting his daughter, as he does not consider Lucius fit to be his son-in-law. The old Athenian feels he should have a richer heir for his only daughter who is fair and young. Timon questions Lucilius of his love. After being assured of their love for each other, Timon tells the girls father that he is going to give Lucius enough wealth to equal the dowry that he is going to give his daughter. That is, he is going to make Lucilius fit to be his son-in-law. Apemantus a cynic philosopher enters the scene. Since Timon is ready to bear him, the jeweler and the painter also stand him. Timon invites him to eat to which Apemantus refuses. Towards the end there is an argument between the poet and Apemantus in which Apemantus calls the poet a liar. There is a sound of trumpets, which announces the arrival of Alcibiades with twenty companions. Timon goes to meet Alcibiades leaving Apemantus with the two lords. The two lords talk for some time and then they too leave for the feast.


SCENE II.
A room of state in TIMON'S house

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet serv'd in;
FLAVIUS and others attending; and then enter LORD TIMON, the
states,
the ATHENIAN LORDS, VENTIDIUS, which TIMON redeem'd from prison.
Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly, like
himself

  VENTIDIUS. Most honoured 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.
  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 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]
  FIRST LORD. My lord, we always have confess'd it.
  APEMANTUS. Ho, ho, confess'd it! Hang'd 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, th'art a churl; ye 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
    angry. Go, let him have a table by himself; for he does
neither
    affect company nor is he fit for't 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. Th'art an Athenian, therefore
    welcome. I myself would have no power; prithee let my meat
make
    thee silent.
  APEMANTUS. I scorn thy meat; 't'would 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
    draught, is the readiest man to kill him. 'T has been proved.
If
    I were a huge man I should fear to drink at meals.
    Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes:
    Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
  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' th' mire.
    This and my food are equals; there's no odds.
    Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

                  APEMANTUS' Grace

           Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
           I pray for no man but myself.
           Grant I may never prove so fond
           To trust man on his oath or bond,
           Or a harlot for her weeping,
           Or a dog that seems a-sleeping,
           Or a keeper with my freedom,
           Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
           Amen. So fall to't.
           Rich men sin, and I eat root.       [Eats and drinks]

    Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
  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 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 wish'd 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 mov'd me much.
  APEMANTUS. Much!                                [Sound tucket]
  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.

                          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. Th' Ear,
    Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd 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.                        Exit CUPID
  FIRST LORD. You see, my lord, how ample y'are belov'd.

      Music. Re-enter CUPID, witb 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 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 single out an
          Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty
            strain or two to the hautboys, and cease

  TIMON. You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
    Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
    Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
    You have added worth unto't and lustre,
    And entertain'd me with mine own device;
    I am to thank you for't.
  FIRST LADY. My lord, you take us even at the best.
  APEMANTUS. Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would not hold
    taking, I doubt me.
  TIMON. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you;
    Please you to dispose yourselves.
  ALL LADIES. Most thankfully, my lord.
                                         Exeunt CUPID and LADIES
  TIMON. Flavius!
  FLAVIUS. My lord?
  TIMON. The little casket bring me hither.
  FLAVIUS. Yes, my lord. [Aside] More jewels yet!
    There is no crossing him in's humour,
    Else I should tell him- well i' faith, I should-
    When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he could.
    'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,
    That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.          Exit
  FIRST LORD. Where be our men?
  SERVANT. Here, my lord, in readiness.
  SECOND LORD. Our horses!

               Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket

  TIMON. O my friends,
    I have one word to say to you. Look you, my good lord,
    I must entreat you honour me so much
    As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it,
    Kind my lord.
  FIRST LORD. I am so far already in your gifts-
  ALL. So are we all.

                       Enter a SERVANT

  SERVANT. My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate newly
    alighted and come to visit you.
  TIMON. They are fairly welcome.                   Exit SERVANT
  FLAVIUS. I beseech your honour, vouchsafe me a word; it does
    concern you near.
  TIMON. Near! Why then, another time I'll hear thee. I prithee
let's
    be provided to show them entertainment.
  FLAVIUS. [Aside] I scarce know how.

                     Enter another SERVANT

  SECOND SERVANT. May it please vour honour, Lord Lucius, out of
his
    free love, hath presented to you four milk-white horses,
trapp'd
    in silver.
  TIMON. I shall accept them fairly. Let the presents
    Be worthily entertain'd.                        Exit SERVANT

                      Enter a third SERVANT

    How now! What news?
  THIRD SERVANT. 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.
  TIMON. I'll hunt with him; and let them be receiv'd,
    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 ev'ry 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 that do e'en enemies exceed.
    I bleed inwardly for my lord.                           Exit
  TIMON. You do yourselves much wrong;
    You bate too much of your own merits.
    Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
  SECOND LORD. With more than common thanks I will receive it.
  THIRD LORD. O, he's the very soul of bounty!
  TIMON. And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the
other
    day of a bay courser I rode on. 'Tis yours because you lik'd
it.
  THIRD LORD. O, I beseech you pardon me, my lord, in that.
  TIMON. You may take my word, my lord: I know no man
    Can justly praise but what he does affect.
    I weigh my friend's affection with mine own.
    I'll tell you true; I'll call to you.
  ALL LORDS. O, none so welcome!
  TIMON. I take all and your several visitations
    So kind to heart 'tis not enough to give;
    Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends
    And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
    Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich.
    It comes in charity to thee; for all thy living
    Is 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast
    Lie in a pitch'd field.
  ALCIBIADES. Ay, defil'd land, my lord.
  FIRST LORD. We are so virtuously bound-
  TIMON. And so am I to you.
  SECOND LORD. So infinitely endear'd-
  TIMON. All to you. Lights, more lights!
  FIRST LORD. The best of happiness, honour, and fortunes, keep
with
    you, Lord Timon!
  TIMON. Ready for his friends.
                              Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON
  APEMANTUS. What a coil's here!
    Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums!
    I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
    That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs:
    Methinks false hearts should never have sound legs.
    Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies.
  TIMON. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen
    I would be good to thee.
  APEMANTUS. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd too,
there
    would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst
sin
    the faster. Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt
give
    away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these feasts,
pomps,
    and vain-glories?
  TIMON. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn
not to
    give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music.
 Exit
  APEMANTUS. So. Thou wilt not hear me now: thou shalt not then.
I'll
    lock thy heaven from thee.
    O that men's ears should be
    To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!                   Exit

The second scene begins with two boys playing loud music. Timon has given a huge banquet. As the scene opens, enters. He is accompanied by Ventidius who has just been released from prison, the Athenian Lords, and Apemantus. Ventidius tells Timon that, his father is dead and has left him a lot of wealth. He now offers to pay Timon twice the sum of money that Timon has paid to release him from prison. Timon however refuses to accept anything it, saying that his act was an act of kindness towards a friend. Apemantus refuses the meat offered to him, since it is intended for flatters and paid for, by flattery. Apemantus who is regarded as unfit for society warns Timon now and again about the duplicity of his companions, It grieves me to see so many dip their meat ...is the readiest man to kill him. He feels that the guests are feasting on Timon. Unlike Timons guests, Apemantus is not awed by the grand ceremony, which has been arranged. He points out that drinking in the company of men equipped with knives is dangerous. Apemantus does not sit silent but comments on what he can foresee thus drawing everyones attention towards him. His statement is a reflection of Timons ironic future. He gives a note of warning that men shut their door against a setting sun which means that the rising sun and not the setting sun is worshipped by most men. A masque is presented and everyone joins the dance. Lord Lucius presents Timon four milk white horses and Lord Lucullius gives Timon, two brace of greyhound. Timon offers jewel to each of the lords, as they are about to leave. This act disturbs his faithful steward Flavius, as he is aware of Timons financial condition. Apemantus however refuses to accept the gift offered by Timon, saying that, there should at least be one person to keep a check on Timons reckless expenditure. The scene ends with Timon bidding farewell to Apemantus.

Notes Giving away wealth was a mark of nobility in the ancient world and also during the period of the renaissance. Timons spending therefore indicates his nobility. His lavishness can be seen in the second scene as well when he arranges for a huge feast and gives away jewels to the invitees. Timon wishes to be poor so that he could come nearer to his friends. This clearly shows how wrongly he judges his so-called friends. Alcibiades remark to Timon is worth noting; for him it is more important to be at Timons service than be a soldier. Timon does not have a family or relative and is therefore reckless in his action. Apemantus and the faithful Steward Flavius are sketched differently from other characters. Apemantus keeps criticizing Timons behavior and feels pity that he cannot judge the nature of man. Flavius, Timons faithful servant, is worried about Timons future, as he knows that Timon is in heavy debt. The reader can guess the tragic end of The Timon of Athens when he says me thinks I could deal kingdom to my friends and neer be weary." It is worth noting how Timon regards his friends. Timon remarks that friends are like musical instruments. He makes this comparison and adds that, just as musical instruments have no value unless they are played, in the same way, friends cannot be called friends unless one can go to them in times of difficulty. How wrong he is when he wishes himself poorer so that he can come closer to his friends. The readers feel surprised and pity him when he coolly remarks more welcome are ye to my fortune than my fortune to me. Apemantus warns Timon for he can sense the future. He is aware of the nature of the crowd who are feasting on Timons wealth and hence he feels pity for him. But Timon carelessly replies I take no heed of thee Apemantus rightly feels that friendship is full of dogs. Timon however brushes aside Apemantus warning by telling him to come up with pleasant words rather than harsh criticism A parallel between the character of Lear and Timon is noticeable. Timon, like Lear, is unable to understand the feelings of the people who boast their affection for him. He prefers the company of false friends to that of Apemantus who tries to warn him. Towards the end of the play, Timon realizes how true Apemantus judgement of the Athenian Lords is. The scene seems to be more of a moral play than a drama.