TIMON OF ATHENS

TIMON OF ATHENS BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND THOMAS MIDDLETON WE know no more of Timon of Athens than we can deduce from the text printed in the 1623 Folio. Some episodes, such as the emblematic opening dialogue featuring a Poet and a Painter, are elegantly finished, but the play has more unpolished dialogue and loose ends of plot than usual: for example, the episode (3.6) in which Alcibiades pleads for a soldier’s life is only tenuously related to the main structure; and the final stretch of action seems imperfectly worked out. Various theories of collaboration and revision have been advanced to explain the play’s peculiarities. During the 1970s and 1980s strong linguistic and other evidence was adduced in support of the belief that it is a product of collaboration between Shakespeare and Thomas Middleton, a dramatist born in 1580 and educated at Queen’s College, Oxford, who was writing for the stage by 1602 and was to develop into a great playwright. The major passages for which Middleton seems to have taken prime responsibility are Act 1. Scene 2; all of Act 3 except for parts of Scene 7; and the closing episode (4.3.460-537) of Act 4. The theory of collaboration explains some features of the text—Middleton’s verse, for example, was less regular than Shakespeare’s. There is no record of early performance; the play is conjecturally assigned to 1605-6. The story of Timon was well known and had been told in an anonymous play which seems to have been acted at one of the Inns of Court in 1602 or 1603. The classical sources of Timon’s story are a brief, anecdotal passage in Plutarch’s Life of Mark Antony, and a Greek dialogue by Lucian, who wrote during the second century AD, the former was certainly known to the authors of Timon of Athens; the latter influences them directly or indirectly. Plutarch records two epitaphs, one written by Timon himself, which recur, conflated as one epitaph, almost word for word in the play. In Lucian, as in the play, Timon is a misanthrope because his friends flattered and sponged on him in prosperity but abandoned him in poverty. The first part of the play dramatizes this process; in the second part, as in Lucian, Timon finds gold and suddenly becomes attractive again to his old friends. Timon of Athens is an exceptionally schematic play falling into two sharply contrasting parts, the second a kind of mirror image of the first. Many of the characters are presented two-dimensionally, as if the dramatists were more concerned with the play’s pattern of ideas than with psychological realism. The overall tone is harsh and bitter; there are passages of magnificent invective along with brilliant satire, but there is also tenderness in the portrayal of Timon’s servants, especially his ‘one honest man’, Flavius. In the play’s comparatively rare performances some adaptation has usually been found necessary; but the exceptionally long role of Timon offers great opportunities to an actor who can convey his vulnerability as well as his virulence, especially in the strange music of the closing scenes which suggests in him a vision beyond the ordinary.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The Life of Timon of Athens

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Poet at one door, Painter carrying a picture [at another door], [followed by] Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at several doors
POET	Good day, sir.
PAINTER	I am glad you’re 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 conjured to attend.
(didascalia)	Merchant and Jeweller meet. Mercer passes over
(didascalia)	the stage, and exits
POET	I know the merchant.
PAINTER	I know them both. Th’other’s a jeweller.
MERCHANT	(to Jeweller) O, ’tis a worthy lord!
JEWELLER	Nay, that’s most fixed.
MERCHANT	A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.
JEWELLER	(showing a jewel) 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	(to himself) ‘When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.’
MERCHANT	(to Jeweller) ’Tis a good form.
JEWELLER	And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER	(to Poet) You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.
POET	A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum which oozes From whence ‘tis nourished. 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	(showing the picture) ’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.
(didascalia)	Enter certain Senators
PAINTER	How this lord is followed!
POET	The senators of Athens. Happy man!
PAINTER	Look, more.
(didascalia)	The Senators pass over the stage, and exeunt]
POET	You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment. My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of tax. No levelled 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 service to Lord Timon. His large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself; even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace, Most rich in Timon’s nod.
PAINTER	I saw them speak together.
POET	Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o’th’ mount Is ranked 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 fixed 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 conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckoned from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressed 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 laboured after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him fall 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.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter Timon [wearing a rich
PAINTER	jewell, with a Messenger from Ventidius; Lucilius
(didascalia)	and other Servants] attending. Timon addresses
PAINTER	himself courteously to every suitor, then speaks to the Messenger
TIMON	Imprisoned 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 off My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, Which he shall have. I’ll pay the debt and free him.
MESSENGER	Your lordship ever binds him.
TIMON	Commend me to him. I will send his ransom; And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me. ’Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well.
MESSENGER	All happiness to your honour. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter an Old Athenian
OLD ATHENIAN	Lord Timon, hear me speak.
TIMON	Freely, good father.
OLD ATHENIAN	Thou hast a servant named 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	(coming forward) 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 inclined to thrift, And my estate deserves an heir more raised 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	(to Lucilius) 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 endowed If she be mated with an equal husband?
OLD ATHENIAN	Three talents on the present; in future, all.
TIMON	This gentleman of mine hath served me long. To build his fortune I will strain a little, For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter. What you bestow in him I’ll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her.
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian
POET	(presenting a poem to Timon) Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
TIMON	I thank you. You shall hear from me anon. Go not away. (To Painter) 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 pencilled 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. (To Jeweller) 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 extolled 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 mocked.
MERCHANT	No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue Which all men speak with him.
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus
TIMON	Look who comes here. Will you be chid?
JEWELLER	We will 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 called 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’It die for.
APEMANTUS	Right, if doing nothing be death by th’ law.
TIMON	How likest 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	You’re 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 feigned him a worthy fellow.
POET	That’s not feigned, 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 augury but 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!
(didascalia)	Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger
TIMON	What trumpet’s that?
MESSENGER	’Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse All of companionship.
TIMON	(to Servants) Pray entertain them. Give them guide to us. [Exit one or more Servants] [To Jeweller] You must needs dine with me. [To Poet] Go not you hence Till I have thanked you. [To Painter] When dinner’s done Show me this piece. [To all] I am joyful of your sights.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades with [his horsemen]
TIMON	Most welcome, sir!
APEMANTUS	[aside] So, so, there. Aches contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love ’mongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy! The strain of man’s bred out Into baboon and monkey.
ALCIBIADES	(to Timon) Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight.
TIMON	Right welcome, sir! Ere we depart, we’ll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Apemantus
(didascalia)	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 most accursed thou, that still omitt’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.
(didascalia)	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 governed man.
SECOND LORD	Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD I’ll keep you company. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in, Flavius and Servants attending; and then enter Timon, Alcibiades, the Senators, the Athenian Lords, and Ventidius which Timon redeemed from prison. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly, like himself
VENTIDIUS	Most honoured Timon, it hath pleased the gods to remember My father’s age and call him to long peace. He is gone happy, and has left me rich. Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derived liberty.
TIMON	O, by no means, Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love. I gave it freely ever, and there’s none Can truly say he gives if he receives. If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them. Faults that are rich are fair.
VENTIDIUS	A noble spirit!
(didascalia)	The Lords stand with ceremony
TIMON	Nay, my lords, Ceremony was but devised at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown; But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray sit. More welcome are ye to my fortunes Than my fortunes to me.
(didascalia)	They sit
FIRST LORD	My lord, we always have confessed it.
APEMANTUS	Ho, ho, confessed it? Hanged it, have you not?
TIMON	O, Apemantus! You are welcome.
APEMANTUS	No, You shall not make me welcome. I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
TIMON	Fie, thou‘rt a churl. Ye’ve got a humour there Does not become a man; ’tis much to blame. They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est, But yon 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; thou’rt an Athenian, Therefore welcome. I myself would have no power: Prithee, let my meat make thee silent.
APEMANTUS	I scorn thy meat. ‘Twould choke me, for I should ne’er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he sees ‘em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up, too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. Methinks they should invite them without knives: Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There’s much example for’t. The fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him. ’T’as 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	(drinking to a Lord) 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.
(didascalia)	He eats
APEMANTUS	Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus.
TIMON	Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now.
ALCIBIADES	My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TIMON	You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.
ALCISIADES	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 thou mightst kill ‘em and bid me to ’em.
FIRST LORD	(to Timon) 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 keeps their sounds to themselves.’ Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits; and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort ‘tis to have so many like brothers commanding one another’s fortunes! O, joy’s e’en made away ere’t can be born: mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their faults, I drink to you.
APEMANTUS	Thou weep’st to make them drink, Timon.
SECOND LORD	(to Timon) 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	(to Timon) I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.
APEMANTUS	Much! A tucket sounds within
TIMON	What means that trump?
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
TIMON	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.
(didascalia)	Enter one as 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, all, pleased from thy table rise. They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
TIMON	They’re welcome all. Let ’em have kind admittance.
(didascalia)	Music make their welcome! Exit Cupid
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD
TIMON	You see, my lord, how ample you’re beloved.
(didascalia)	Music. Enter a masque of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing
APEMANTUS	Hey-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance? They are madwomen. Like madness is the glory of this life As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friends’ gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me. ’T’as been done. Men shut their doors against a setting sun. The Lords rise from table with much adoring of Timon; and to show their loves each singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the hautboys; and cease
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 entertained me with mine own device. I am to thank you for’t.
(didascalia)	FIRST LADY
TIMON	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 ’tends you. Please you to dispose yourselves.
ALL LADIES	Most thankfully, my lord. Exeunt 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 crossed 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.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD Our horses. Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius with the casket. He gives it to Timon, and exits
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 and wear it, Kind my lord.
FIRST LORD	I am so far already in your gifts.
ALL LORDS	So are we all. Timon gives them jewels.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
FIRST SERVANT	My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate newly alighted and come to visit you.
TIMON	They are fairly welcome. Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius
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	I scarce know how.
(didascalia)	Enter a Second Servant
SECOND SERVANT	May it please your honour, Lord Lucius Out of his free love hath presented to you Four milk-white horses trapped in silver.
TIMON	I shall accept them fairly. Let the presents Be worthily entertained.
(didascalia)	Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter a Third Servant
TIMON	How now, what news?
THIRD SERVANT	Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman Lord Lucullus entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
TIMON	I’ll hunt with him, and let them be received Not without fair reward. Exit Servant
FLAVIUS	(aside) What will this come to? He commands us to provide and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer; Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this: To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes For every word. He is so kind that he now Pays interest for’t. His land’s put to their books. Well, would I were gently put out of office Before I were forced out. Happier is he that has no friend to feed Than such that do e’en enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord. Exit
TIMON	(to the Lords) You do yourselves Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits. (To Second Lord) 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	(to First Lord) And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. ’Tis yours, because you liked it.
FIRST 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 friends’ 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.
(didascalia)	Giving a present It comes in charity to thee, for all
TIMON	thy living Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitched field.
ALCIBIADES	Ay, defiled land, my lord.
FIRST LORD	We are so virtuously bound—
TIMON	And so am I to you.
SECOND LORD	So infinitely endeared—
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Timon and Apemantus
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 curtseys.
TIMON	Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen I would be good to thee.
APEMANTUS	No, I’ll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou giv’st so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these feasts, pomps, and vainglories?
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!
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Senator With bonds
SENATOR	And late five thousand. To Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand, besides my former sum, Which makes it five-and-twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste! It cannot hold, it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar’s dog And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. If I would sell my horse and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon— Ask nothing, give it him—it foals me straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold. No reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis ho! Caphis, I say!
(didascalia)	Enter Caphis
CAPHIS	Here, sir. What is your pleasure?
SENATOR	Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon. Importune him for my moneys. Be not ceased With slight denial, nor then silenced when ‘Commend me to your master’, and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus; but tell him My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own, his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit. I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be tossed and turned to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone. Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand, for I do fear When every feather sticks in his own wing Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
CAPHIS	I go, sir.
(didascalia)	SENATOR giving him bonds
CAPHIS	Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in count.
CAPHIS	I will, sir.
SENATOR	Go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, with many bills in his hand
FLAVIUS	No care, no stop; so senseless of expense That he will neither know how to maintain it Nor cease his flow of riot, takes no account How things go from him, nor resumes no care Of what is to continue. Never mind Was to be so unwise to be so kind. What shall be done? He will not hear till feel.
(didascalia)	A sound of horns within
FLAVIUS	I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. Fie, fie, fie, fie!
(didascalia)	Enter Caphis at one door and Servants of Isidore and Varro at another door
CAPHIS	Good even, Varro. What, you come for money?
VARRO’S SERVANT	Is’t not your business too?
CAPHIS	It is; and yours too, Isidore?
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	It is SO.
CAPHIS	Would we were all discharged.
VARRO’S SERVANT	I fear it.
CAPHIS	Here comes the lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon and his train, amongst them Alcibiades, as from hunting
TIMON	So soon as dinner’s done we’ll forth again, My Alcibiades. Caphis meets Timon With me? What is your will?
CAPHIS	My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
TIMON	Dues? Whence are you?
CAPHIS	Of Athens here, my lord.
TIMON	Go to my steward.
CAPHIS	Please it your lordship, he hath put me off, To the succession of new days, this month. My master is awaked by great occasion To call upon his own, and humbly prays you That with your other noble parts you’ll suit In giving him his right.
TIMON	Mine honest friend, I prithee but repair to me next morning.
CAPHIS	Nay, good my lord.
TIMON	Contain thyself, good friend.
VARRO’S SERVANT	One Varro’s servant, my good lord.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Timon) From Isidore. He humbly prays your speedy payment.
CAPHIS	(to Timon) If you did know, my lord, my master’s wants—
VARRO’S SERVANT	(to Timon) ’Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks and past.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Timon) Your steward puts me off, my lord, and I Am sent expressly to your lordship.
TIMON	Give me breath.— I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on. I’ll wait upon you instantly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Alcibiades and Timon’s train
TIMON	(To Flavius) Come hither. Pray you, How goes the world, that I am thus encountered With clamorous demands of broken bonds And the detention of long-since-due debts, Against my honour?
FLAVIUS	(to Servants) Please you, gentlemen, The time is unagreeable to this business; Your importunacy cease till after dinner, That I may make his lordship understand Wherefore you are not paid.
TIMON	(to Servants) Do so, my friends. (To Flavius) See them well entertained. Exit
FLAVIUS	Pray draw near.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus and Fool
CAPHIS	Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus. Let’s ha’ some sport with ’em.
VARRO’S SERVANT	Hang him, he’ll abuse us.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	A plague upon him, dog!
VARRO’S SERVANT	How dost, fool?
APEMANTUS	Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
VARRO’S SERVANT	I speak not to thee.
APEMANTUS	No, ’tis to thyself, (To Fool) Come away.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Varro’s Servant) There’s the fool hangs on your back already. APEMANTUs No, thou stand‘st single: thou’rt not on him yet.
CAPHIS	(to Isidore’s Servant) Where’s the fool now?
APEMANTUS	He last asked the question. Poor rogues’ and usurers’ men, bawds between gold and want.
ALL SERVANTS	What are we, Apemantus? 6
APEMANTUS	Asses.
ALL SERVANTS	Why?
APEMANTUS	That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Speak to ’em, fool.
FOOL	How do you, gentlemen?
ALL SERVANTS	Gramercies, good fool. How does your mistress?
FOOL	She’s e’en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth.
APEMANTUS	Good; gramercy.
(didascalia)	Enter Page with two letters
FOOL	Look you, here comes my mistress’ page.
PAGE	Why, how now, captain? What do you in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS	Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.
PAGE	Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters. I know not which is which.
APEMANTUS	Canst not read?
PAGE	No.
APEMANTUS	There will little learning die then that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thou’lt die a bawd.
PAGE	Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a dog’s death. Answer not; I am gone. Exit
APEMANTUS	E‘en so thou outrunn’st grace. Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timon’s.
FOOL	Will you leave me there?
APEMANTUS	If Timon stay at home. (To Servants) You three serve three usurers?
ALL SERVANTS	Ay. Would they served us.
APEMANTUS	So would I: as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.
FOOL	Are you three usurers’ men?
ALL SERVANTS	Ay, fool. 95
FOOL	I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters they approach sadly and go away merry, but they enter my mistress’s house merrily and go away sadly. The reason of this?
VARRO’S SERVANT	I could render one.
APEMANTUS	Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no less esteemed.
VARRO’S SERVANT	What is a whoremaster, fool?
FOOL	A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. ’Tis a spirit; sometime ’t appears like a lord, sometime like a lawyer, sometime like a philosopher with two stones more than’s artificial one. He is very often like a knight; and generally in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.
VARRO’S SERVANT	Thou art not altogether a fool.
FOOL	Nor thou altogether a wise man. As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lack ’st.
APEMANTUS	That answer might have become Apemantus. Enter Timon and Flavius
ALL SERVANTS	Aside, aside, here comes Lord Timon.
APEMANTUS	Come with me, fool, come.
FOOL	I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and woman: sometime the philosopher.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Apemantus and Fool
FLAVIUS	(to Servants) Pray you, walk near. I’ll speak with you anon.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Servants
TIMON	You make me marvel wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laid my state before me, That I might so have rated my expense As I had leave of means.
FLAVIUS	You would not hear me. At many leisures I proposed—
TIMON	Go to. Perchance some single vantages you took, When my indisposition put you back, And that unaptness made your minister Thus to excuse yourself.
FLAVIUS	O my good lord, At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you; you would throw them off And say you summed them in mine honesty. When for some trifling present you have bid me Return so much, I have shook my head and wept, Yea, ‘gainst th’authority of manners prayed you To hold your hand more close. I did endure Not seldom nor no slight checks when I have Prompted you in the ebb of your estate And your great flow of debts. My lovèd lord— Though you hear now too late, yet now’s a time— The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts.
TIMON	Let all my land be sold.
FLAVIUS	‘Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone, And what remains will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues. The future comes apace. What shall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck’ning?
TIMON	To Lacedaemon did my land extend.
FLAVIUS	O my good lord, the world is but a word. Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone.
TIMON	You tell me true.
FLAVIUS	If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before th’exactest auditors And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppressed With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blazed with lights and brayed with minstrelsy, I have retired me to a wasteful cock, And set mine eyes at flow.
TIMON	Prithee, no more.
FLAVIUS	‘Heavens,’ have I said, ‘the bounty of this lord! How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants This night englutted! Who is not Timon’s? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon’s? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made. Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of winter show’rs, These flies are couched.’
TIMON	Come, sermon me no further. No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart. Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart. If I would broach the vessels of my love And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and men’s fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak.
FLAVIUS	Assurance bless your thoughts!
TIMON	And in some sort these wants of mine are crowned That I account them blessings, for by these Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you Mistake my fortunes. I am wealthy in my friends.—
(didascalia)	Within there, Flaminius, Servilius!
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius, Servilius, and a Third Servant
ALL SERVANTS	My lord, my lord.
TIMON	I will dispatch you severally, (To Servilius) You to Lord Lucius, (To Flaminius) to Lord Lucullus you— I hunted with his honour today— (To Third Servant) You to Sempronius. Commend me to their loves, And I am proud, say, that my occasions have Found time to use ’em toward a supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents.
FLAMINIUS	As you have said, my lord. Exeunt Servants
FLAVIUS	Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Hmh!
TIMON	Go you, sir, to the senators, Of whom, even to the state’s best health, I have Deserved this hearing. Bid ‘em send o’th’ instant A thousand talents to me.
FLAVIUS	I have been bold, For that I knew it the most general way, To them, to use your signet and your name; But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return.
TIMON	Is’t true? Can’t be?
FLAVIUS	They answer in a joint and corporate voice That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry, you are honourable, But yet they could have wished—they know not— Something hath been amiss—a noble nature May catch a wrench—would all were well—’tis pity; And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold moving nods They froze me into silence.
TIMON	You gods reward them! Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary. Their blood is caked, ‘tis cold, it seldom flows. ’Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; And nature as it grows again toward earth Is fashioned for the journey dull and heavy. Go to Ventidius. Prithee, be not sad. Thou art true and honest—ingenuously I speak— No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately Buried his father, by whose death he’s stepped Into a great estate. When he was poor, Imprisoned, and in scarcity of friends, I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me. Bid him suppose some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be remembered With those five talents. That had, give’t these fellows To whom ‘tis instant due. Ne’er speak or think That Timon’s fortunes ’mong his friends can sink.
FLAVIUS	I would I could not think it. That thought is bounty’s foe: Being free itself, it thinks all others so.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius, with a box under his cloak, waiting to speak with Lucullus. From his master, enters a Servant to him
LUCULLUS’ SERVANT	I have told my lord of you. He is coming down to you.
FLAMINIUS	I thank you, sir.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucullus
LUCULLUS’ SERVANT	Here’s my lord.
LUCULLUS	(aside) One of Lord Timon’s men? A gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver basin and ewer tonight.—Ftaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome, sir. (To his Servant) Fill me some wine. Exit Servant And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master?
FLAMINIUS	His health is well, sir.
LUCULLUS	I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?
FLAMINIUS	Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord’s behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply, who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein.
LUCULLUS	La, la, la, la, ‘nothing doubting’ says he? Alas, good lord! A noble gentleman ’tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha’ dined with him and told him on‘t, and come again to supper to him of purpose to have him spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha’ told him on’t, but I could ne’er get him from’t.
(didascalia)	Enter Servant, with wine
SERVANT	Please your lordship, here is the wine.
LUCULLUS	Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. (Drinking) Here’s to thee!
FLAMINIUS	Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
LUCULLUS	I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit, give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason; and canst use the time well if the time use thee well. (Drinking) Good parts in thee! (To his Servant) Get you gone, sirrah. Exit Servant Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord’s a bountiful gentleman; but thou art wise, and thou know‘st well enough, although thou com’st to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security. (Giving coins) Here’s three solidares for thee. Good boy, wink at me, and say thou saw’st me not. Fare thee well.
FLAMINIUS	Is’t possible the world should so much differ, And we alive that lived? He throws the coins at Lucullus Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee.
LUCULLUS	Ha! Now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLAMINIUS	May these add to the number that may scald thee. Let molten coin be thy damnation, Thou disease of a friend, and not himself. Has friendship such a faint and milky heart It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, I feel my master’s passion! This slave Unto this hour has my lord’s meat in him. Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment, When he is turned to poison? O, may diseases only work upon’t; And when he’s sick to death, let not that part of nature Which my lord paid for be of any power To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, with three Strangers
LUCIUS	Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend, and an honourable gentleman.
FIRST STRANGER	We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon’s happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him.
LUCIUS	Fie, no, do not believe it. He cannot want for money. 9
SECOND STRANGER	But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents—nay, urged extremely for‘t, and showed what necessity belonged to’t, and yet was denied.
LUCIUS	How?
SECOND STRANGER	I tell you, denied, my lord.
LUCIUS	What a strange case was that! Now before the gods, I am ashamed on’t. Denied that honourable man? There was very little honour showed in’t. For my own part, I must needs confess I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and suchlike trifles—nothing comparing to his; yet had he not mistook him and sent to me, I should ne’er have denied his occasion so many talents.
(didascalia)	Enter Servilius
SERVILIUS	(aside) See, by good hap yonder’s my lord. I have sweat to see his honour. (To Lucius) My honoured lord!
(didascalia)	LUCIUS Servilius! You are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well. Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
SERVILIUS	May it please your honour, my lord hath sent—
LUCIUS	Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord, he’s ever sending. How shall I thank him, think’st thou? And what has he sent now?
SERVILIUS	He’s only sent his present occasion now, my lord, requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.
(didascalia)	LUCIUS
SERVILIUS	I know his lordship is but merry with me. He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
SERVILIUS	But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous I should not urge it half so faithfully.
LUCIUS	Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
SERVILIUS	Upon my soul, ’tis true, sir.
LUCIUS	What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time when I might ha’ shown myself honourable) How unluckily it happened that I should purchase the day before a little part, and undo a great deal of honour! Servilius, now before the gods I am not able to do, the more beast I, I say. I was sending to use Lord Timon myself—these gentlemen can witness—but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done’t now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me: I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him?
SERVILIUS	Yes, sir, I shall.
LUCIUS	I’ll look you out a good turn, Servilius. Exit Servilius True as you said: Timon is shrunk indeed; And he that’s once denied will hardly speed. Exit
FIRST STRANGER	Do you observe this, Hostilius?
SECOND STRANGER	Ay, too well.
FIRST STRANGER	Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece Is every flatterer’s spirit. Who can call him his friend That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, Timon has been this lord’s father And kept his credit with his purse, Supported his estate; nay, Timon’s money Has paid his men their wages. He ne’er drinks, But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip; And yet—O see the monstrousness of man When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!— He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars.
THIRD STRANGER	Religion groans at it.
FIRST STRANGER	For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me To mark me for his friend; yet I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me I would have put my wealth into donation And the best half should have returned to him, So much I love his heart. But I perceive Men must learn now with pity to dispense, For policy sits above conscience.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon’s Third Servant, with Sempronius, another of Timon’s friends
SEMPRONIUS	Must he needs trouble me in’t? Hmh! ’Bove all others? He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeemed from prison. All these Owes their estates unto him.
SERVANT	My lord, They have all been touched and found base metal, For they have all denied him.
SEMPRONIUS	How, have they denied him? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him, And does he send to me? Three? Hmhl It shows but little love or judgement in him. Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, Thrive, give him over; must I take th’ cure upon me? He’s much disgraced me in’t. I’m angry at him, That might have known my place. I see no sense for’t But his occasions might have wooed me first, For, in my conscience, I was the first man That e‘er received gift from him. And does he think so backwardly of me now That I’ll requite it last? No. So it may prove an argument of laughter To th’ rest, and I ’mongst lords be thought a fool. I’d rather than the worth of thrice the sum He’d sent to me first, but for my mind’s sake. I’d such a courage to do him good. But now return, And with their faint reply this answer join: Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.
(didascalia)	Exit
SERVANT	Excellent. Your lordship’s a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic—he crossed himself by’t, and I cannot think but in the end the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! Takes virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire; of such a nature is his politic love. This was my lord’s best hope. Now all are fled Save only the gods. Now his friends are dead. Doors that were ne’er acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year must be employed Now to guard sure their master; And this is all a liberal course allows: Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Varro’s two Servants, meeting others, all Servants of Timon’s creditors, to wait for his coming out. Then enter Servants of Lucius, Titus, and Hortensius
(didascalia)	VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT
(didascalia)	Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.
TITUS’ SERVANT	The like to you, kind Varro.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Lucius, what, do we meet together?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, and I think one business does command us all, For mine is money.
TITUS’ SERVANT	So is theirs and ours.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant of Philotus
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	And Sir Philotus too!
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Good day at once.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Welcome, good brother. What do you think the hour?
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Labouring for nine.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	So much?
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Is not my lord seen yet?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Not yet.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	I wonder on’t; he was wont to shine at seven.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him. You must consider that a prodigal course Is like the sun‘s, But not, like his, recoverable. I fear ’Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon’s purse; that is, One may reach deep enough, and yet find little.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	I am of your fear for that.
TITUS’ SERVANT	I’ll show you how t’observe a strange event. Your lord sends now for money?
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Most true, he does.
TITUS’ SERVANT	And he wears jewels now of Timon’s gift, For which I wait for money.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	It is against my heart.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Mark how strange it shows. Timon in this should pay more than he owes, And e‘en as if your lord should wear rich jewels And send for money for ’em.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	I’m weary of this charge, the gods can witness. I know my lord hath spent of Timon’s wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	Yes; mine’s three thousand crowns. What’s yours?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Five thousand, mine.
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	’is much deep, and it should seem by th’ sum Your master’s confidence was above mine, Else surely his had equalled.
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius
TITUS’ SERVANT	One of Lord Timon’s men.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Flaminius! Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord 36 Ready to come forth?
FLAMINIUS	No, indeed he is not.
TITUS’ SERVANT	We attend his lordship. Pray signify so much.
FLAMINIUS	I need not tell Him that; he knows you are too diligent.
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, muffled in a cloak
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ha, is not that his steward muffled so? He goes away in a cloud. Call him, call him.
TITUS’ SERVANT	(to Flavius) Do you hear, sir?
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	(to Flavius) By your leave, sir.
FLAVIUS	What do ye ask of me, my friend?
TITUS’ SERVANT	We wait for certain money here, sir.
FLAVIUS	Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, ‘Twere sure enough. Why then preferred you not your sums and bills When your false masters ate of my lord’s meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, And take down th’int’est into their glutt’nous maws. You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up. Let me pass quietly. Believe’, my lord and I have made an end. I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, but this answer will not serve.
FLAVIUS	If ‘twill not serve ’tis not so base as you, For you serve knaves.
(didascalia)	Exit
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	How? What does his cashiered worship mutter?
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	No matter what; he’s poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.
(didascalia)	Enter Servilius
TITUS’ SERVANT	O, here’s Servilius. Now we shall know some answer.
SERVILIUS	If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from’t; for, take’t of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him. He’s much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Many do keep their chambers are not sick, And if it be so far beyond his health Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts And make a clear way to the gods.
SERVILIUS	Good gods!
TITUS’ SERVANT	We cannot take this for an answer, sir.
FLAMINIUS	(Within) Servilius, helpl My lord, my lord!
(didascalia)	Enter Timon in a rage
TIMON	What, are my doors opposed against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my jail? The place which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Put in now, Titus.
TITUS’ SERVANT	My lord, here is my bill.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Here’s mine.
(didascalia)	HORTENSUS’ SERVANT And mine, my lord.
(didascalia)	VARRO’S FIRST and SECOND SERVANTS And ours, my lord.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	All our bills.
TIMON	Knock me down with ’em, cleave me to the girdle.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Alas, my lord.
TIMON	Cut my heart in sums. 90
TITUS’ SERVANT	Mine fifty talents.
TIMON	Tell out my blood.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Five thousand crowns, my lord.
TIMON	Five thousand drops pays that. What yours? And yours?
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	My lord—
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	My lord—
TIMON	Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you.
(didascalia)	Exit
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money. These debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes ’em.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon and Flavius
TIMON	They have e’en put my breath from me, the slaves. Creditors? Devils!
FLAVIUS	My dear lord—
TIMON	What if it should be so?
FLAVIUS	My lord—
TIMON	I’ll have it so. My steward!
FLAVIUS	Here, my lord.
TIMON	So fitly? Go bid all my friends again: Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius—all luxors, all. I’ll once more feast the rascals.
FLAVIUS	O my lord, You only speak from your distracted soul. There is not so much left to furnish out A moderate table.
TIMON	Be it not in thy care. Go, I charge thee, invite them all. Let in the tide Of knaves once more. My cook and I’ll provide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 3, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter three Senators at one door
FIRST SENATOR	My lords, you have my voice to’t. The fault’s bloody. ’Tis necessary he should die. Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
SECOND SENATOR	Most true; the law shall bruise ’im.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades at another door, with attendants
ALCIBIADES	Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!
FIRST SENATOR	Now, captain.
ALCIBIADES	I am an humble suitor to your virtues; For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stepped into the law, which is past depth To those that without heed do plunge into’t. He is a man, setting his feat aside, Of comely virtues; Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice— An honour in him which buys out his fault— But with a noble fury and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touched to death, He did oppose his foe; And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave his anger, ere ’twas spent, As if he had but proved an argument.
FIRST SENATOR	You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair. Your words have took such pains as if they laboured To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling Upon the head of valour—which indeed Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born. He’s truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs his outsides To wear them like his raiment carelessly, And ne‘er prefer his injuries to his heart To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly ’tis to hazard life for ill!
ALCIBIADES	My lord—
FIRST SENATOR	You cannot make gross sins look clear. To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
ALCIBIADES	My lords, then, under favour, pardon me If I speak like a captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, And not endure all threats, sleep upon‘t, And let the foes quietly cut their throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? Why then, women are more valiant That stay at home if bearing carry it, And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, As you are great, be pitifully good. Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust, But in defence, by mercy, ’tis most just. To be in anger is impiety, But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this.
SECOND SENATOR	You breathe in vain.
ALCIBIADES	In vain? His service done at Lacedaemon and Byzantium Were a sufficient briber for his life.
FIRST SENATOR	What’s that?
ALCIBIADES	Why, I say, my lords, he’s done fair service, And slain in fight many of your enemies. How full of valour did he bear himself In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!
SECOND SENATOR	He has made too much plenty with ‘em. He’s a sworn rioter; he has a sin That often drowns him and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no foes, that were enough To overcome him. In that beastly fury He has been known to commit outrages And cherish factions. ’Tis inferred to us His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
FIRST SENATOR	He dies.
ALCIBIADES	Hard fate! He might have died in war. My lords, if not for any parts in him— Though his right arm might purchase his own time And be in debt to none—yet more to move you, Take my deserts to his and join ’em both. And for I know Your reverend ages love security, I’ll pawn my victories, all my honour to you Upon his good returns. If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receive’t in valiant gore, For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
FIRST SENATOR	We are for law; he dies. Urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
ALCIBIADES	Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, I do beseech you know me.
SECOND SENATOR	How?
ALCIBIADES	Call me to your remembrances.
THIRD SENATOR	What?
ALCIBIADES	I cannot think but your age has forgot me. It could not else be I should prove so base To sue and be denied such common grace. My wounds ache at you.
FIRST SENATOR	Do you dare our anger? ’Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for ever.
ALCIBIADES	Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish usury That makes the senate ugly.
FIRST SENATOR	If after two days’ shine Athens contain thee, attend our weightier judgement; And, not to swell your spirit, he shall be Executed presently.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Senators and attendants
ALCIBIADES	Now the gods keep you old enough that you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you! I’m worse than mad. I have kept back their foes While they have told their money and let out Their coin upon large interest—I myself, Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? Is this the balsam that the usuring senate Pours into captains’ wounds? Banishment! It comes not ill; I hate not to be banished. It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens. I’ll cheer up My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. ’Tis honour with most lands to be at odds. Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 3, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter divers of Timon’s friends, amongst them Lucullus, Lucius, Sempronius, and other Lords and Senators, at several doors
FIRST LORD	The good time of day to you, sir.
SECOND LORD	I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day.
FIRST LORD	Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
SECOND LORD	It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.
FIRST LORD	I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off, but he hath conjured me beyond them, and I must needs appear.
SECOND LORD	In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry when he sent to borrow of me that my provision was out.
FIRST LORD	I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.
SECOND LORD	Every man hears so. What would he have borrowed of you?
FIRST LORD	A thousand pieces.
SECOND LORD	A thousand pieces?
FIRST LORD	What of you?
SECOND LORD	He sent to me, sir—
(didascalia)	Loud music. Enter Timon and attendants
SECOND LORD	Here he comes.
TIMON	With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you?
FIRST LORD	Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
SECOND LORD	The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.
TIMON	(aside) Nor more willingly leaves winter, such summer birds are men.—Genttemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay. Feast your ears with the music a while, if they will fare so harshly o’th’ trumpets’ sound; we shall to’t presently.
FIRST LORD	I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger.
TIMON	O sir, let it not trouble you.
SECOND LORD	My noble lord—
TIMON	Ah, my good friend, what cheer?
(didascalia)	A table and stools are brought in
SECOND LORD	My most honourable lord, I am e’en sick of shame that when your lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.
TIMON	Think not on’t, sir.
SECOND LORD	If you had sent but two hours before—
TIMON	Let it not cumber your better remembrance.—Come, bring in all together.
(didascalia)	Enter Servants with covered dishes
SECOND LORD	All covered dishes.
FIRST LORD	Royal cheer, I warrant you.
THIRD LORD	Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.
FIRST LORD	How do you? What’s the news?
THIRD LORD	Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?
FIRST	and SECOND LORDS Alcibiades banished?
THIRD LORD	’Tis so, be sure of it.
FIRST LORD	How, how?
SECOND LORD	I pray you, upon what?
TIMON	My worthy friends, will you draw near?
THIRD LORD	I’ll tell you more anon. Here’s a noble feast toward.
SECOND LORD	This is the old man still.
THIRD LORD	Will’t hold, will’t hold?
SECOND LORD	It does; but time will—and so—
THIRD LORD	I do conceive. 64
TIMON	Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. They sit You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts make yourselves praised; but reserve still to give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough that one need not lend to another; for were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest of your foes, O gods—the senators of Athens, together with the common tag of people—what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them; and to nothing are they welcome.—Uncover, dogs, and lap.
(didascalia)	The dishes are uncovered, and seen to be full of steaming water and stones
SOME LORDS	What does his lordship mean?
OTHER LORDS	I know not.
TIMON	May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends. Smoke and lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last, Who, stuck and spangled with your flattery, Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villainy.
(didascalia)	He throws water in their faces
TIMON	Live loathed and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies, Cap-and-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! Of man and beast the infinite malady Crust you quite o’er.
(didascalia)	A Lord is going
TIMON	What, dost thou go? Soft, take thy physic first. Thou too, and thou.
(didascalia)	He beats them
TIMON	Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lords, leaving caps and gowns
TIMON	What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest. Burn house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be Of Timon man and all humanity!
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter the Senators and other Lords
FIRST LORD	How now, my lords?
SECOND LORD	Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?
THIRD LORD	Push! Did you see my cap?
FOURTH LORD	I have lost my gown.
FIRST LORD	He’s but a mad lord, and naught but humours sways him. He gave me a jewel th’other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see my jewel?
(didascalia)	THIRD LORD Did you see my cap?
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD
FIRST LORD	Here ’tis.
FOURTH LORD	Here lies my gown.
FIRST LORD	Let’s make no stay.
SECOND LORD	Lord Timon’s mad.
THIRD LORD	I feel’t upon my bones.
FOURTH LORD	One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon
TIMON	Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench And minister in their steads! To general filths Convert o‘th’ instant, green virginity! Do’t in your parents’ eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast! Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters’ throats. Bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed! Thy mistress is o’th’ brothel. Son of sixteen, Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire; With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And let confusion live! Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners! Lust and liberty, Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That ‘gainst the stream of virtue they may strive And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains, Sow all th’Athenian bosoms, and their crop Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison!
(didascalia)	He tears off his clothes
TIMON	Nothing I’ll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town; Take thou that too, with multiplying bans. Timon will to the woods, where he shall find Th‘unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound—hear me you good gods all— Th’Athenians, both within and out that wall; And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low. Amen.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants
FIRST SERVANT	Hear you, master steward, where’s our master? Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?
FLAVIUS	Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded: by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you.
FIRST SERVANT	Such a house broke, So noble a master fall’n? All gone, and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm And go along with him?
SECOND SERVANT	As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away, leave their false vows with him Like empty purses picked; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunned poverty, Walks like contempt alone.
(didascalia)	Enter other Servants
SECOND SERVANT	More of our fellows.
FLAVIUS	All broken implements of a ruined house.
THIRD SERVANT	Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery. That see I by our faces. We are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our barque, And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck Hearing the surges’ threat. We must all part Into this sea of air.
FLAVIUS	Good fellows all, The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you. Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake Let’s yet be fellows. Let’s shake our heads and say, As ‘twere a knell unto our master’s fortunes, ’We have seen better days.’ He gives them money Let each take some. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more. Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. They embrace, and the Servants part several ways O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted like his varnished friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood When man’s worst sin is he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. My dearest lord, blessed to be most accursed, Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat Of monstrous friends; Nor has he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it. I’ll follow and enquire him out. I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will. Whilst I have gold I’ll be his steward still.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon from his cave in the woods, half naked, and with a spade
TIMON	O blessèd breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb Infect the air. Twinned brothers of one womb, Whose procreation, residence, and birth Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes, The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature, To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune But by contempt of nature. It is the pasture lards the brother’s sides, The want that makes him lean. Raise me this beggar and demit that lord, The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, The beggar native honour. 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 grece of fortune Is smoothed by that below. The learnèd pate Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy; There’s nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred All feasts, societies, and throngs of men. His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains. Destruction fang mankind. Earth, yield me roots. He digs Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison. He finds gold What is here? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I am no idle votarist: Roots, you clear heavens. Thus much of this will make Black white, foul fair, wrong right, Base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! Why this, what, this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads. This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th’accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation With senators on the bench. This is it That makes the wappered widow wed again. She whom the spittle house and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To th’ April day again. Come, damned earth, Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds Among the rout of nations; I will make thee Do thy right nature. March afar off Ha, a drum! Thou’rt quick; But yet I’ll bury thee. He buries gold Thou’lt go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. He keeps some gold Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades, with soldiers playing drum and
TIMON	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 unlearned 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 promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost not 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 blessèd time.
TIMON	As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA	Is this th’Athenian minion, whom the world Voiced so regardfully?
SIMON	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-cheeked youth To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA	Hang thee, monster!
ALCIBIADES	Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drowned 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 grieved 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	Warr‘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 conquered.
ALCIBIADES	Why me, Timon?
TIMON	That by killing of villains Thou wast born to conquer my country. Put up thy gold. He gives Alcibiades gold Go on; here’s gold; go on. Be as a planetary plague when Jove Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one. Pity not honoured age for his white beard; He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron; It is her habit only that is honest, Herself’s a bawd. Let not the virgin’s cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps That through the window-bars bore at men’s eyes Are not within the leaf of pity writ; But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy. Think it a bastard whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects. Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There’s gold to pay thy soldiers. Make large confusion, and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself. Speak not. Be gone.
ALCIBIADES	Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou giv’st 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 wholesomeness a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, Your aprons mountant.
(didascalia)	He throws gold into their aprons
TIMON	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 pain-sick months Be quite contrary, and thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged, No matter. Wear them, betray with them; whore still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face. A pox of wrinkles!
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 curled-pate ruffians bald, And let the unscarred braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you. Plague all, That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection. There’s more gold. Do you damn others, and let this damn you; And ditches grave you all!
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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt to drum and fife all but Timon
TIMON	That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness, Should yet be hungry! He digs the earth Common mother—thou Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast Teems and feeds all, whose selfsame mettle Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffed Engenders the black toad and adder blue, The gilded newt and eyeless venomed worm, With all th‘abhorrèd births below crisp heaven Whereon Hyperion’s quick’ning fire doth shine— Yield him who all thy human sons do hate From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root. Ensear thy fertile and conceptions 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. He finds a root 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!—
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus
TIMON	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 diseased 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 mossed trees That have outlived 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 unhousèd trunks To the conflicting elements exposed 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 enforcèdly. Thou’dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crowned 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 shouldst 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 clasped, but bred a dog. Hadst thou like us from our first swathe proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drudges of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself In general riot, melted down thy youth In different beds of lust, and never learned The icy precepts of respect, but followed The sugared game before thee. But myself, Who had the world as my confectionary, The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men At duty, more than I could frame employment, That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winter’s brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows—I to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden. Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee hard in’t. Why shouldst thou hate men? They never flattered thee. What hast thou given? If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff To some she-beggar and compounded thee Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, 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. He bites the root
(didascalia)	APEMANTUS offering food Here, I will mend thy feast.
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 botched; 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 mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know’st none, but art despised 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 thou’dst hated meddlers 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 beloved?
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 accused by the ass. If thou wert the ass, thy dullness would torment thee, and still thou lived’st but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse. Wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard. Wert thou a leopard, thou wert 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 a 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. 356
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’d 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!
(didascalia)	He throws a stone at Apemantus
TIMON	I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
APEMANTUS	Beast!
TIMON	Slave!
APEMANTUS	Toad!
TIMON	Rogue, rogue, rogue! I am sick of this false world, and will love naught 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. He looks on 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, loved, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian’s lap; thou visible god, That sold’rest close impossibilities And mak‘st them kiss, that speak’st with every tongue To every purpose; O thou touch of hearts: Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire.
APEMANTUS	Would ’twere so, But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold. Thou wilt be thronged to shortly.
TIMON	Thronged to?
APEMANTUS	Ay.
TIMON	Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS	Live, and love thy misery.
TIMON	Long live so, and so die. I am quit.
(didascalia)	Enter the Banditti, thieves
APEMANTUS	More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
(didascalia)	Exit
FIRST THIEF	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 THIEF	It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIRD THIEF	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 THIEF	True, for he bears it not about him; ’tis hid.
FIRST THIEF	Is not this he?
OTHER THIEVES	Where?
SECOND THIEF	’Tis his description.
THIRD THIEF	He, I know him.
ALL THIEVES	(coming forward) Save thee, Timon.
TIMON	Now, thieves.
ALL THIEVES	Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON	Both, too, and women’s sons.
ALL THIEVES	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.
(didascalia)	Within this mile break forth a hundred springs.
TIMON	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 THIEF	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 professed, that you work not In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft In limited professions. (Giving gold) 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 unchecked 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 no less for this I give you, And gold confound you howsoe’er. Amen.
THIRD THIEF	He’s almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.
FIRST THIEF	’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.
SECOND THIEF	I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.
FIRST THIEF	Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thieves
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius to Timon
FLAVIUS	O you gods! Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord, Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed! 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 wished to love his enemies! Grant I may ever love and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do! Timon sees him He’s 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 thou’rt 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; ay, all I kept were knaves, To serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS	The gods are witness, Ne’er 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,
(didascalia)	He offers his money
FLAVIUS	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, 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 placed too late. You should have feared 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 honoured 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,
(didascalia)	He gives Flavius gold
TIMON	Here, take. The gods, out of my misery, Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men, Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famished flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs What thou deniest to men. Let prisons swallow ‘em, Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods. And so farewell, and thrive.
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Timon into his cave, Flavius another way

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Poet and Painter
PAINTER	As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
POET	What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he’s so full of gold?
PAINTER	Certain. Alcibiades reports it. Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him. He likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. ’Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
POET	Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends?
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 supposed 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 a 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon from his cave, unobserved
PAINTER	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 judgement that makes it.
TIMON	(aside) Excellent workman, thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.
POET	(to Painter) 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	(to Painter) 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-cornered night, Find what thou want’st by free and offered fight. Come.
TIMON	(aside) I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold, That he is worshipped in a baser temple Than where swine feed! ‘Tis thou that rigg’st the barque and plough’st the foam, Settlest admired reverence in a slave. To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey. Fit I meet them. He comes forward to them
POET	Hail, worthy Timon!
PAINTER	Our late noble master!
TIMON	Have I once lived to see two honest men?
POET	Sir, having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retired, 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 infiuence 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 travelled 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.
POET	and PAINTER What we can do we’ll do to do you service.
TIMON	You’re honest men. You’ve heard that I have gold, I am sure you have. Speak truth; you’re honest men.
PAINTER	So it is said, my noble lord, but therefor Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON	Good honest men. (To Painter) Thou draw‘st a counterfeit Best in all Athens; thou’rt 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-natured friends, I must needs say you have a little fault. Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much pains to mend.
POET	and PAINTER Beseech your honour To make it known to us.
TIMON	You’ll take it ill.
POET	and PAINTER Most thankfully, my lord.
TIMON	Will you indeed?
POET	and PAINTER Doubt it not, worthy lord.
TIMON	There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave That mightily deceives you.
POET	and PAINTER 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 assured That he’s a made-up villain.
PAINTER	I know none 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.
POET	and PAINTER 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.
(didascalia)	To Painter If where thou art two villains shall not be,
(didascalia)	Come not near him. To Poet If thou wouldst not
TIMON	reside But where one villain is, then him abandon.
(didascalia)	Hence; pack! Striking him There’s gold. You came
TIMON	for gold, ye slaves.
(didascalia)	Striking Painter You have work for me; there’s
TIMON	payment. Hence!
(didascalia)	Striking Poet You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
(didascalia)	Out, rascal dogs! Exeunt Poet and Painter one way,
(didascalia)	Timon into his cave

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius and two Senators
FLAVIUS	It is in vain that you would speak with Timon, For he is set so only to himself That nothing but himself which looks like man Is friendly with him.
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 framed 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. (Calling) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon out of his cave
TIMON	Thou sun that comforts, burn! Speak and be hanged. For each true word a blister, and each false Be as a cantherizing 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, Allowed 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-brained 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	(to Senators) Stay not; all’s in vain.
TIMON	Why, I was writing of my epitaph. It will be seen tomorrow. My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go; live still. Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough.
FIRST SENATOR	We speak in vain.
TIMON	But yet I love my country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wrack 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	(aside) 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	(to Senators) 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 four words go by, and language end. What is amiss, plague and infection mend. Graves only be men’s works, and death their gain. Sun, hide thy beams. Timon hath done his reign.
(didascalia)	Exit into his
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger
(didascalia)	THIRD SENATOR
(didascalia)	Thou hast painfully discovered. Are his files As full as thy report?
MESSENGER	I have spoke the least. Besides, his expedition promises Present approach.
(didascalia)	FOURTH SENATOR
MESSENGER	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 opposed, Yet our old love made 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 moved.
(didascalia)	Enter the other Senators
(didascalia)	THIRD SENATOR
MESSENGER	Here come our brothers.
(didascalia)	FIRST SENATOR
MESSENGER	No talk of Timon; nothing of him expect. The enemy’s drum is heard, and fearful scouring Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare. Ours is the fall, I fear, our foe’s the snare. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Soldier, in the woods, seeking Timon
SOLDIER	By all description, this should be the place. Who’s here? Speak, ho! No answer?
(didascalia)	He discovers a gravestone
SOLDIER	What is this? 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 aged interpreter, though young in days. Before proud Athens he’s set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. Exit

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers, before Athens
(didascalia)	Sound to this coward and lascivious town
ALCIBIADES	Our terrible approach. A parley sounds. The Senators appear upon the walls Till now you have gone on and filled 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 wandered with our traversed arms, and breathed 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 promised 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 received your grief; 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 destined 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, revenges. 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 rampired gates and they shall ope, So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before To say thou’lt 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 sealed thy full desire.
(didascalia)	ALCIBIADES throwing up a glove
SECOND SENATOR	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 remedied to your public laws At heaviest answer.
BOTH SENATORS	’Tis most nobly spoken.
ALCIBIADES	Descend, and keep your words.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Exeunt Senators from the walls.
(didascalia)	Enter Soldier, with a tablet of wax
SOLDIER	My noble general, Timon is dead, Entombed upon the very hem o’th’ sea; And on his gravestone this insculpture, which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance. Alcibiades reads the epitaph
ALCIBIADES	‘Here lies a wretched corpse, 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 abhorred‘st in us our human griefs, Scorned’st our brains’ 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Senators through the gates
ALCIBIADES	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.
(didascalia)	Drums. Exeunt through
ALCIBIADES	the
(didascalia)	gates
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE	(ADAPTED BY THOMAS MIDDLETON)
SHORTLY	after James VI of Scotland succeeded to the English throne, in 1603, he gave his patronage to Shakespeare’s company; the Lord Chamberlain’s Men became the King’s Men, entering into a special relationship with their sovereign. Macbeth is the play of Shakespeare’s that most clearly reflects this relationship. James regarded the virtuous and noble Banquo, Macbeth’s comrade at the start of the action, as his direct ancestor; eight Stuart kings were said to have preceded James, just as, in the play, Banquo points to ‘a show of eight kings’ as his descendants (4.1.127.1-140); and in the play the English king (historically Edward the Confessor) is praised for the capacity, on which James also prided himself, to cure ’the king’s evil’ (scrofula). Macbeth is obviously a Jacobean play, composed probably in 1606. But the first printed text, in the 1623 Folio, shows signs of having been adapted at a later date. It is exceptionally short by comparison with Shakespeare’s other tragedies; and it includes episodes which there is good reason to believe are not by Shakespeare. Most conspicuous are Act 3, Scene 5 and parts of Act 4, Scene I: 38.I-60 and 141-8.1. These episodes feature Hecate, who does not appear elsewhere in the play; they are composed largely in octosyllabic couplets in a style conspicuously different from the rest of the play; and they call for the performance of two songs that are found in The Witch, a play of uncertain date by Thomas Middleton. Probably Middleton himself adapted Shakespeare’s play some years after its first performance, adding these and more localized details, and cutting the play elsewhere. We do not attempt to excise passages most clearly written by Middleton, because the adapter’s hand almost certainly affected the text at other, less determinable points. The Folio text of Macbeth cites only the opening words of the songs; drawing on The Witch, we attempt a reconstruction of their staging in Macbeth. Shakespeare took materials for his story from the account in Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicle of the reigns of Duncan and Macbeth (AD 1034-57). Occasionally (especially in the English episodes of Act 4, Scene 2) he closely followed Holinshed’s wording, but essentially the play’s structure is his own. He invented the framework of the three witches who tempted both Macbeth and Banquo with prophecies of greatness. His Macbeth is both more introspective and more intensely evil than the competent warrior-king portrayed by Holinshed; conversely, Shakespeare made Duncan, the king whom Macbeth murders, far more venerable and saintly. Some of the play’s features, notably the character of Lady Macbeth, originate in Holinshed’s account of the murder of an earlier Scottish king, Duff; he was killed in his castle at Forres by Donwald, who had been ‘set on’ by his wife. Macbeth is an exciting story of witchcraft, murder, and retribution that can also be seen as a study in the philosophy and psychology of evil. The witches are not easily made credible in modern performances, and Shakespeare seems deliberately to have drained colour away from some parts of his composition in order to concentrate attention on Macbeth and his Lady. It is Macbeth’s neurotic self-absorption, his fear, his anger, and his despair, along with his wife’s steely determination, her invoking of the powers of evil, and her eventual revelation in sleep of her repressed humanity, that have given the play its long-proven power to fascinate readers and to challenge performers.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY
KING DUNCAN	of Scotland A CAPTAIN in Duncan’s army MACBETH, Thane of Glamis, later Thane of Cawdor, then King of Scotland A PORTER at Macbeth’s castle Three MURDERERS attending on Macbeth SEYTON, servant of Macbeth
LADY	MACBETH, Macbeth’s wife BANQUO, a Scottish thane FLEANCE, his son MACDUFF, Thane of Fife
LADY	MACDUFF, his wife
MACDUFF’S SON	SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland
YOUNG	SIWARD, his son An English DOCTOR HECATE, Queen of the Witches Six WITCHES Three APPARITIONS, one an armed head, one a bloody child, one a child crowned A SPIRIT LIKE A CAT Other SPIRITS An OLD MAN A MESSENGER
SERVANTS	A show of eight kings; Lords and Thanes, attendants, soldiers, drummers

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Poet at one door, Painter carrying a picture [at another door], [followed by] Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at several doors
POET	Good day, sir.
PAINTER	I am glad you’re 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 conjured to attend.
(didascalia)	Merchant and Jeweller meet. Mercer passes over
(didascalia)	the stage, and exits
POET	I know the merchant.
PAINTER	I know them both. Th’other’s a jeweller.
MERCHANT	(to Jeweller) O, ’tis a worthy lord!
JEWELLER	Nay, that’s most fixed.
MERCHANT	A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness. He passes.
JEWELLER	(showing a jewel) 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	(to himself) ‘When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.’
MERCHANT	(to Jeweller) ’Tis a good form.
JEWELLER	And rich. Here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER	(to Poet) You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.
POET	A thing slipped idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum which oozes From whence ‘tis nourished. 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	(showing the picture) ’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.
(didascalia)	Enter certain Senators
PAINTER	How this lord is followed!
POET	The senators of Athens. Happy man!
PAINTER	Look, more.
(didascalia)	The Senators pass over the stage, and exeunt]
POET	You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment. My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of tax. No levelled 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 service to Lord Timon. His large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself; even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace, Most rich in Timon’s nod.
PAINTER	I saw them speak together.
POET	Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feigned Fortune to be throned. The base o’th’ mount Is ranked 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 fixed 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 conceived to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckoned from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressed 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 laboured after him to the mountain’s top Even on their knees and hands, let him fall 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.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter Timon [wearing a rich
PAINTER	jewell, with a Messenger from Ventidius; Lucilius
(didascalia)	and other Servants] attending. Timon addresses
PAINTER	himself courteously to every suitor, then speaks to the Messenger
TIMON	Imprisoned 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 off My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, Which he shall have. I’ll pay the debt and free him.
MESSENGER	Your lordship ever binds him.
TIMON	Commend me to him. I will send his ransom; And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me. ’Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well.
MESSENGER	All happiness to your honour. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter an Old Athenian
OLD ATHENIAN	Lord Timon, hear me speak.
TIMON	Freely, good father.
OLD ATHENIAN	Thou hast a servant named 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	(coming forward) 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 inclined to thrift, And my estate deserves an heir more raised 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	(to Lucilius) 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 endowed If she be mated with an equal husband?
OLD ATHENIAN	Three talents on the present; in future, all.
TIMON	This gentleman of mine hath served me long. To build his fortune I will strain a little, For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter. What you bestow in him I’ll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her.
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian
POET	(presenting a poem to Timon) Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
TIMON	I thank you. You shall hear from me anon. Go not away. (To Painter) 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 pencilled 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. (To Jeweller) 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 extolled 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 mocked.
MERCHANT	No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue Which all men speak with him.
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus
TIMON	Look who comes here. Will you be chid?
JEWELLER	We will 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 called 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’It die for.
APEMANTUS	Right, if doing nothing be death by th’ law.
TIMON	How likest 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	You’re 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 feigned him a worthy fellow.
POET	That’s not feigned, 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 augury but 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!
(didascalia)	Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger
TIMON	What trumpet’s that?
MESSENGER	’Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse All of companionship.
TIMON	(to Servants) Pray entertain them. Give them guide to us. [Exit one or more Servants] [To Jeweller] You must needs dine with me. [To Poet] Go not you hence Till I have thanked you. [To Painter] When dinner’s done Show me this piece. [To all] I am joyful of your sights.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades with [his horsemen]
TIMON	Most welcome, sir!
APEMANTUS	[aside] So, so, there. Aches contract and starve your supple joints! That there should be small love ’mongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy! The strain of man’s bred out Into baboon and monkey.
ALCIBIADES	(to Timon) Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight.
TIMON	Right welcome, sir! Ere we depart, we’ll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Apemantus
(didascalia)	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 most accursed thou, that still omitt’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.
(didascalia)	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 governed man.
SECOND LORD	Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD I’ll keep you company. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Poeta da una porta, il Pittore che reca un quadro [da un’altra porta], [seguiti da] il Gioielliere, il Mercante e il Merciaio, da diverse porte
POETA	Buon giorno, signore.
PITTORE	Mi rallegro che stiate bene.
POETA	Da tempo non vi vedevo. Come va il mondo?
PITTORE	Si logora, signore, mentre cresce.
POETA	Sì, questo è ben noto. Ma quale singolare rarità, quale prodigio, che i molteplici annali non eguaglino?—Vedi, Magia di munificenza, tutti questi spiriti il tuo potere ha evocato a servirti.
(didascalia)	Il Mercante e il Gioielliere s’incontrano. Il Merciaio attraversa
(didascalia)	la scena, ed esce
POETA	Conosco il mercante.
PITTORE	Li conosco entrambi. L’altro è un gioielliere.
MERCANTE	(al Gioielliere) Oh, è un signore degno!
GIOIELLIERE	Sì, questo è certissimo.
MERCANTE	Un uomo incomparabile, allenato, si direbbe, a una bontà instancabile e continua. Egli supera ogni misura.
GIOIELLIERE	(mostrando un gioiello) Ho qui un gioiello.
MERCANTE	Oh, di grazia, mostratelo. Per il signor Timone, messere?
GIOIELLIERE	Se vorrà pagarne la stima. Ma quanto a ciò—
POETA	(fra sé) ‘Quando per ricompensa abbiamo lodato il vile, ciò macchia la gloria di quel verso felice che degnamente canta il bene.’
MERCANTE	(al Gioielliere) È di bella forma.
GIOIELLIERE	E ricco. Ecco qui un’acqua, guardate.
PITTORE	(al Poeta) Siete assorto, signore, in qualche opera, qualche dedica al grande signore.
POETA	Cosa sfuggitami oziosamente. La nostra poesia è come una gomma che stilla da ciò che la nutre. Il fuoco nella selce non appare finché non sia percossa; la nostra gentile fiamma si provoca da sé, e come la corrente supera ogni argine che l’irrita. Che avete là?
PITTORE	Un quadro, signore. Quando esce il vostro libro?
POETA	Subito dopo la mia presentazione, signore. Vediamo la vostra opera.
PITTORE	(mostrando il quadro) È una buona opera.
POETA	Lo è davvero. Questo riesce bene ed eccellente.
PITTORE	Mediocre.
POETA	Ammirevole. Come questa grazia proclama la propria dignità! Che potenza mentale saetta quest’occhio! Quanto grande immaginazione si muove in questo labbro! Alla mutezza del gesto si potrebbe dar parola.
PITTORE	È un grazioso rifacimento della vita. Ecco un tocco; è buono?
POETA	Dirò di esso che ammaestra la natura. Un’artificiale contesa vive in questi tocchi più viva della vita.
(didascalia)	Entrano alcuni Senatori
PITTORE	Com’è seguito questo signore!
POETA	I senatori d’Atene. Uomo felice!
PITTORE	Guardate, altri ancora.
(didascalia)	I Senatori attraversano la scena, ed escono]
POETA	Vedete questo concorso, questa gran piena di visitatori. In quest’opera abbozzata ho foggiato un uomo che questo mondo di quaggiù abbraccia e stringe con amplissima accoglienza. Il mio libero intento non si ferma su nessuno in particolare, ma si muove in un ampio mare di biasimo. Nessuna malizia mirata infetta una virgola nel corso che tengo, ma vola d’un volo d’aquila, ardito e avanti, senza lasciare traccia dietro di sé.
PITTORE	Come devo intendervi?
POETA	Ve lo dischiuderò. Vedete come tutte le condizioni, tutti gli animi, così bene di creature lisce e sdrucciolevoli come di grave e austera qualità, offrono i loro servigi al signor Timone. La sua larga fortuna, sospesa alla sua buona e cortese natura, soggioga e fa proprietà del suo amore e della sua cura ogni sorta di cuori; sì, dall’adulatore dal viso di specchio ad Apemanto, che poche cose ama di più che aborrire sé stesso; anche lui piega il ginocchio davanti a lui, e torna in pace, ricchissimo d’un cenno di Timone.
PITTORE	Li ho visti parlare insieme.
POETA	Signore, sopra un alto e ameno colle ho finto in trono la Fortuna. La base del monte è schierata d’ogni merito, d’ogni sorta di nature che s’affaticano sul seno di questa sfera per accrescere il proprio stato. Fra tutti costoro, i cui occhi sono fissi su questa sovrana signora, uno ne raffiguro della statura del signor Timone, che la Fortuna con la sua mano d’avorio attira a sé, la cui presente grazia in schiavi e servi presenti tramuta i suoi rivali.
PITTORE	È concepito a dovere. Questo trono, questa Fortuna, e questo colle, mi pare, con un uomo chiamato a cenni fra gli altri di sotto, che china il capo contro l’erta del monte per salire alla sua felicità, sarebbero ben espressi nella nostra arte.
POETA	No, signore, ma ascoltatemi ancora. Tutti quelli che gli erano pari fino a ieri, alcuni di lui più valenti, all’istante seguono i suoi passi, gli riempiono le anticamere d’ossequi, gli piovono nell’orecchio bisbigli sacrificali, gli fanno sacra perfino la staffa, e attraverso lui bevono l’aria libera.
PITTORE	Sì, per la Vergine, e che ne è di costoro?
POETA	Quando la Fortuna, nel suo volgersi e mutar d’umore, respinge in basso il suo diletto d’un tempo, tutti i suoi dipendenti, che s’erano arrampicati dietro a lui fino alla cima del monte perfino su ginocchia e mani, lo lasciano precipitare, senza che uno solo accompagni il suo piede che scende.
PITTORE	È cosa comune. Mille dipinti morali posso mostrare che dimostreranno questi rapidi colpi della Fortuna più efficacemente delle parole. Pur fate bene a mostrare al signor Timone che occhi umili hanno veduto il piede sopra il capo.
(didascalia)	Squillano le trombe. Entra Timone [che porta un ricco
PITTORE	gioiello, con un Messaggero da Ventidio; Lucilio
(didascalia)	e altri Servi] al seguito. Timone si rivolge
PITTORE	cortesemente a ogni postulante, poi parla al Messaggero
TIMONE	È in prigione, dite?
MESSAGGERO	Sì, mio buon signore. Cinque talenti è il suo debito, i suoi mezzi scarsissimi, i creditori durissimi. Desidera una vostra onorevole lettera a coloro che l’hanno rinchiuso; se questa manca, è finita ogni sua consolazione.
TIMONE	Nobile Ventidio! Bene, non son io di quella penna da scuotermi di dosso l’amico quando ha bisogno di me. So che egli è un gentiluomo che ben merita aiuto, e l’avrà. Pagherò il debito e lo libererò.
MESSAGGERO	Vostra signoria se lo lega per sempre.
TIMONE	Salutatelo da parte mia. Manderò il suo riscatto; e, una volta liberato, ditegli di venire da me. Non basta rimettere in piedi il debole, bisogna sorreggerlo poi. State bene.
MESSAGGERO	Ogni felicità al vostro onore. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra un Vecchio Ateniese
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Signor Timone, ascoltatemi.
TIMONE	Liberamente, buon padre.
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Hai un servo di nome Lucilio.
TIMONE	Sì. Che c’è di lui?
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Nobilissimo Timone, chiama l’uomo davanti a te.
TIMONE	È qui in attesa o no? Lucilio!
LUCILIO	(facendosi avanti) Qui al servizio di vostra signoria.
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Costui qui, signor Timone, questa tua creatura, di notte frequenta la mia casa. Io sono un uomo che fin dal principio è stato incline al risparmio, e il mio patrimonio merita un erede più alto di uno che regge un tagliere.
TIMONE	Bene, e poi?
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Una sola figlia ho, nessun altro parente a cui possa conferire ciò che ho acquistato. La fanciulla è bella, giovanissima per sposa, e l’ho allevata a mie carissime spese nelle migliori qualità. Quest’uomo tuo tenta il suo amore. Ti prego, nobile signore, unisciti a me per vietargli di frequentarla. Io stesso ho parlato invano.
TIMONE	L’uomo è onesto.
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Tale dunque resti, Timone. La sua onestà lo ricompensa da sé; non deve portarsi via mia figlia.
TIMONE	Lo ama ella?
VECCHIO ATENIESE	È giovane e arrendevole. Le nostre passioni trascorse c’insegnano quanta leggerezza sia nella gioventù.
TIMONE	(a Lucilio) Ami la fanciulla?
LUCILIO	Sì, mio buon signore, ed ella l’accetta.
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Se nel suo matrimonio manca il mio consenso, chiamo gli dèi a testimoni, sceglierò il mio erede fra i mendicanti del mondo, e la spoglierò d’ogni cosa.
TIMONE	Di che sarà dotata se sarà unita a un marito suo pari?
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Tre talenti al presente; in futuro, ogni cosa.
TIMONE	Questo mio gentiluomo m’ha servito a lungo. Per edificare la sua fortuna mi sforzerò un poco, ché è un vincolo fra gli uomini. Dagli tua figlia. Quel che le darai in dote io lo controbilancerò, e lo farò pesare quanto lei.
VECCHIO ATENIESE	Nobilissimo signore, impegnatemi in ciò il vostro onore, ed ella è sua.
TIMONE	La mia mano a te; il mio onore sulla mia promessa.
LUCILIO	Umilmente ringrazio vostra signoria. Mai cada in mia custodia stato o fortuna che non sia dovuta a voi.
(didascalia)	Escono Lucilio e il Vecchio Ateniese
POETA	(presentando un poema a Timone) Degnatevi della mia fatica, e lunga vita a vostra signoria!
TIMONE	Vi ringrazio. Avrete presto mie notizie. Non andatevene. (Al Pittore) Che avete là, amico mio?
PITTORE	Un’opera di pittura, che supplico vostra signoria d’accettare.
TIMONE	La pittura è benvenuta. Il dipinto è quasi l’uomo naturale; poiché da quando il disonore traffica con la natura dell’uomo, egli non è che superficie; queste figure disegnate sono proprio quel che dichiarano. Mi piace il vostro lavoro, e vedrete che mi piace. Restate in attesa finché non abbiate altre mie notizie.
PITTORE	Gli dèi vi conservino!
TIMONE	Bene vi sia, gentiluomo. Datemi la mano. Dobbiamo assolutamente pranzare insieme. (Al Gioielliere) Signore, il vostro gioiello ha sofferto sotto la lode.
GIOIELLIERE	Come, mio signore, biasimo?
TIMONE	Una mera sazietà di elogi. Se dovessi pagarvelo come viene esaltato mi dipanerebbe del tutto.
GIOIELLIERE	Mio signore, è valutato come lo darebbero quelli che vendono; ma voi ben sapete che cose di pari valore, differenti nei possessori, sono pregiate secondo i loro padroni. Credetelo, caro signore, voi migliorate il gioiello portandolo.
TIMONE	Ben beffato.
MERCANTE	No, mio buon signore, egli parla la lingua comune che tutti gli uomini parlano con lui.
(didascalia)	Entra Apemanto
TIMONE	Guardate chi arriva. Volete essere sgridati?
GIOIELLIERE	Sopporteremo, insieme a vostra signoria.
MERCANTE	Non risparmierà nessuno.
TIMONE	Buon giorno a te, gentile Apemanto.
APEMANTO	Finché non sia gentile, aspetta pure il tuo buon giorno— quando tu sarai il cane di Timone, e questi furfanti onesti.
TIMONE	Perché li chiami furfanti? Tu non li conosci.
APEMANTO	Non sono Ateniesi?
TIMONE	Sì.
APEMANTO	Allora non me ne pento.
GIOIELLIERE	Mi conoscete, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Sai bene di sì. T’ho chiamato col tuo nome.
TIMONE	Sei superbo, Apemanto!
APEMANTO	Di nulla tanto quanto di non essere simile a Timone.
TIMONE	Dove vai?
APEMANTO	A far saltare le cervella a un onesto Ateniese.
TIMONE	È un’azione per cui morirai.
APEMANTO	Giusto, se non far nulla è morte secondo la legge.
TIMONE	Come ti piace questo quadro, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Ottimo per l’innocenza.
TIMONE	Non ha operato bene chi l’ha dipinto?
APEMANTO	Meglio operò chi fece il pittore, eppure costui non è che una lurida opera.
PITTORE	Sei un cane.
APEMANTO	Tua madre è della mia razza. Che cos’è lei, se io sono un cane?
TIMONE	Vuoi pranzare con me, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	No, io non mangio signori.
TIMONE	Se lo facessi, faresti adirare le dame.
APEMANTO	Oh, loro sì che mangiano signori. Così si procurano grossi ventri.
TIMONE	È una lasciva interpretazione.
APEMANTO	Così tu l’intendi; prenditela per tua fatica.
TIMONE	Come ti piace questo gioiello, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Non così bene come il trattare schietto, che non costa a un uomo un quattrino.
TIMONE	Quanto pensi che valga?
APEMANTO	Non vale il mio pensiero. Ebbene, poeta?
POETA	Ebbene, filosofo?
APEMANTO	Menti.
POETA	Non lo sei?
APEMANTO	Sì.
POETA	Allora non mento.
APEMANTO	Non sei un poeta?
POETA	Sì.
APEMANTO	Allora menti. Guarda nella tua ultima opera, dove l’hai finto uomo degno.
POETA	Non è finzione, egli è tale.
APEMANTO	Sì, è degno di te, e di pagarti la tua fatica. Chi ama essere adulato è degno dell’adulatore. Cieli, foss’io un signore!
TIMONE	Che faresti allora, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Proprio quel che Apemanto fa ora: odiare un signore con tutto il cuore.
TIMONE	Come, te stesso?
APEMANTO	Sì.
TIMONE	Perché?
APEMANTO	Per non aver avuto altro presagio che d’essere un signore.-Non sei tu un mercante?
MERCANTE	Sì, Apemanto.
APEMANTO	Ti confonda il traffico, se non lo faranno gli dèi!
MERCANTE	Se lo fa il traffico, lo fanno gli dèi.
APEMANTO	Il traffico è il tuo dio, e il tuo dio ti confonda!
(didascalia)	Squilla una tromba. Entra un Messaggero
TIMONE	Che tromba è quella?
MESSAGGERO	È Alcibiade, con una ventina di cavalli tutti in compagnia.
TIMONE	(ai Servi) Vi prego, accoglieteli. Fate loro da guida fino a noi. [Esce uno o più Servi] [Al Gioielliere] Dovete assolutamente pranzare con me. [Al Poeta] Non andatevene di qui finché non v’abbia ringraziato. [Al Pittore] Quando il pranzo è finito mostratemi quest’opera. [A tutti] Godo alla vista di voi tutti.
(didascalia)	Entra Alcibiade con [i suoi cavalieri]
TIMONE	Benvenutissimo, signore!
APEMANTO	[a parte] Così, così, ecco. Doglie contraggano e consumino le vostre agili giunture! Che ci sia così poco amore fra questi dolci furfanti, e tutta questa cortesia! La stirpe dell’uomo è degenerata in babbuino e scimmia.
ALCIBIADE	(a Timone) Signore, avete appagato il mio desiderio, e mi nutro con gran fame della vostra vista.
TIMONE	Benvenuto davvero, signore! Prima di separarci, spartiremo un generoso tempo in diversi piaceri. Vi prego, entriamo.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Apemanto
(didascalia)	Entrano due Signori
PRIMO SIGNORE	Che ora del giorno è, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Tempo d’essere onesti.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Quel tempo è sempre opportuno.
APEMANTO	Tanto più maledetto tu, che sempre lo trascuri.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Vai al banchetto del signor Timone?
APEMANTO	Sì, per vedere la carne riempire furfanti, e il vino scaldare sciocchi.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Sta’ bene, sta’ bene.
APEMANTO	Sei uno sciocco a darmi l’addio due volte.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Perché, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Avresti dovuto serbarne uno per te, ché io non intendo dartene alcuno.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Impiccati
APEMANTO	No, non farò nulla al tuo comando. Rivolgi le tue richieste al tuo amico.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Via, cane rissoso, o ti caccio a calci di qui.
APEMANTO	Fuggirò, come un cane, i calcagni dell’asino.
(didascalia)	Esce
PRIMO SIGNORE	È il contrario dell’umanità. Su, entriamo, e gustiamo la munificenza del signor Timone? Egli supera il cuore stesso della bontà.
SECONDO SIGNORE	La versa a piene mani. Pluto il dio dell’oro non è che il suo intendente; non v’è merito ch’egli non ripaghi sette volte al di sopra di sé; non v’è dono a lui che non frutti al donatore un contraccambio eccedente ogni usanza di ricambio.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Porta in sé l’animo più nobile che mai governasse uomo.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Lungamente viva nelle fortune! Entriamo?
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE Vi terrò compagnia. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in, Flavius and Servants attending; and then enter Timon, Alcibiades, the Senators, the Athenian Lords, and Ventidius which Timon redeemed from prison. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly, like himself
VENTIDIUS	Most honoured Timon, it hath pleased the gods to remember My father’s age and call him to long peace. He is gone happy, and has left me rich. Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derived liberty.
TIMON	O, by no means, Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love. I gave it freely ever, and there’s none Can truly say he gives if he receives. If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them. Faults that are rich are fair.
VENTIDIUS	A noble spirit!
(didascalia)	The Lords stand with ceremony
TIMON	Nay, my lords, Ceremony was but devised at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown; But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray sit. More welcome are ye to my fortunes Than my fortunes to me.
(didascalia)	They sit
FIRST LORD	My lord, we always have confessed it.
APEMANTUS	Ho, ho, confessed it? Hanged it, have you not?
TIMON	O, Apemantus! You are welcome.
APEMANTUS	No, You shall not make me welcome. I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
TIMON	Fie, thou‘rt a churl. Ye’ve got a humour there Does not become a man; ’tis much to blame. They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est, But yon 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; thou’rt an Athenian, Therefore welcome. I myself would have no power: Prithee, let my meat make thee silent.
APEMANTUS	I scorn thy meat. ‘Twould choke me, for I should ne’er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he sees ‘em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up, too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. Methinks they should invite them without knives: Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There’s much example for’t. The fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him. ’T’as 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	(drinking to a Lord) 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.
(didascalia)	He eats
APEMANTUS	Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus.
TIMON	Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now.
ALCIBIADES	My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TIMON	You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.
ALCISIADES	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 thou mightst kill ‘em and bid me to ’em.
FIRST LORD	(to Timon) 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 keeps their sounds to themselves.’ Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits; and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort ‘tis to have so many like brothers commanding one another’s fortunes! O, joy’s e’en made away ere’t can be born: mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their faults, I drink to you.
APEMANTUS	Thou weep’st to make them drink, Timon.
SECOND LORD	(to Timon) 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	(to Timon) I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.
APEMANTUS	Much! A tucket sounds within
TIMON	What means that trump?
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
TIMON	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.
(didascalia)	Enter one as 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, all, pleased from thy table rise. They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
TIMON	They’re welcome all. Let ’em have kind admittance.
(didascalia)	Music make their welcome! Exit Cupid
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD
TIMON	You see, my lord, how ample you’re beloved.
(didascalia)	Music. Enter a masque of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing
APEMANTUS	Hey-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance? They are madwomen. Like madness is the glory of this life As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friends’ gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me. ’T’as been done. Men shut their doors against a setting sun. The Lords rise from table with much adoring of Timon; and to show their loves each singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the hautboys; and cease
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 entertained me with mine own device. I am to thank you for’t.
(didascalia)	FIRST LADY
TIMON	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 ’tends you. Please you to dispose yourselves.
ALL LADIES	Most thankfully, my lord. Exeunt 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 crossed 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.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD Our horses. Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius with the casket. He gives it to Timon, and exits
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 and wear it, Kind my lord.
FIRST LORD	I am so far already in your gifts.
ALL LORDS	So are we all. Timon gives them jewels.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
FIRST SERVANT	My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate newly alighted and come to visit you.
TIMON	They are fairly welcome. Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius
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	I scarce know how.
(didascalia)	Enter a Second Servant
SECOND SERVANT	May it please your honour, Lord Lucius Out of his free love hath presented to you Four milk-white horses trapped in silver.
TIMON	I shall accept them fairly. Let the presents Be worthily entertained.
(didascalia)	Exit Servant
(didascalia)	Enter a Third Servant
TIMON	How now, what news?
THIRD SERVANT	Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman Lord Lucullus entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
TIMON	I’ll hunt with him, and let them be received Not without fair reward. Exit Servant
FLAVIUS	(aside) What will this come to? He commands us to provide and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer; Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this: To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes For every word. He is so kind that he now Pays interest for’t. His land’s put to their books. Well, would I were gently put out of office Before I were forced out. Happier is he that has no friend to feed Than such that do e’en enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord. Exit
TIMON	(to the Lords) You do yourselves Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits. (To Second Lord) 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	(to First Lord) And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. ’Tis yours, because you liked it.
FIRST 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 friends’ 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.
(didascalia)	Giving a present It comes in charity to thee, for all
TIMON	thy living Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitched field.
ALCIBIADES	Ay, defiled land, my lord.
FIRST LORD	We are so virtuously bound—
TIMON	And so am I to you.
SECOND LORD	So infinitely endeared—
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Timon and Apemantus
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 curtseys.
TIMON	Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen I would be good to thee.
APEMANTUS	No, I’ll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou giv’st so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these feasts, pomps, and vainglories?
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!
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Oboi che suonano una musica alta. Viene servito un gran banchetto, con Flavio e i Servi al seguito; ed entrano poi Timone, Alcibiade, i Senatori, i Signori ateniesi, e Ventidio che Timone riscattò dalla prigione. Poi giunge, cascando dietro a tutti, Apemanto, scontento, come è suo costume
VENTIDIO	Onoratissimo Timone, è piaciuto agli dèi di ricordare la vecchiaia di mio padre e chiamarlo a lunga pace. Se n’è andato felice, e m’ha lasciato ricco. Perciò, come per grata virtù sono legato al vostro cuore generoso, vi rendo quei talenti, raddoppiati di grazie e servigio, dal cui aiuto trassi la libertà.
TIMONE	Oh, in nessun modo, onesto Ventidio. Fraintendete il mio amore. L’ho sempre dato liberamente, e nessuno può dire in verità di dare se riceve. Se i nostri superiori giocano a quel gioco, noi non dobbiamo osare d’imitarli. Le colpe che son ricche son belle.
VENTIDIO	Un nobile spirito!
(didascalia)	I Signori restano in piedi con cerimonia
TIMONE	No, miei signori, la cerimonia fu dapprima escogitata soltanto per dar lustro ad atti fiacchi, accoglienze vuote, bontà che si ritratta, pentita prima d’esser mostrata; ma dove c’è vera amicizia, non ne occorre alcuna. Vi prego, sedete. Più benvenuti siete voi alle mie fortune che le mie fortune a me.
(didascalia)	Siedono
PRIMO SIGNORE	Mio signore, l’abbiamo sempre confessato.
APEMANTO	Oh, oh, confessato? Impiccato, non è vero?
TIMONE	Oh, Apemanto! Siate il benvenuto.
APEMANTO	No, non mi renderete benvenuto. Vengo perché tu mi cacci fuori dalla porta.
TIMONE	Via, sei uno zotico. Hai lì un umore che non s’addice a un uomo; è molto biasimevole. Si dice, miei signori, Ira furor brevis est, ma quell’uomo è sempre in collera. Andate, dategli una tavola per sé solo, ché egli né ama la compagnia né vi è adatto, in verità.
APEMANTO	Lasciami restare a tuo rischio, Timone. Vengo per osservare, te ne do avviso.
TIMONE	Non bado a te; sei un Ateniese, perciò benvenuto. Io stesso non vorrei aver potere: ti prego, che le mie vivande ti facciano tacere.
APEMANTO	Disprezzo le tue vivande. Mi soffocherebbero, ché non ti adulerei mai. O voi dèi, che quantità d’uomini divora Timone, ed egli non li vede! Mi duole vedere tanti intingere la carne nel sangue d’un uomo solo; e la follia più grande è che egli per giunta li incoraggia. Mi meraviglio che gli uomini osino affidarsi agli uomini. Mi pare che dovrebbero invitarli senza coltelli: meglio per le vivande, e più sicuro per la vita. Ce n’è molto esempio. Colui che siede accanto a lui, ora spartisce il pane con lui, brinda al suo respiro in una coppa divisa, è l’uomo più pronto a ucciderlo. È stato provato. Se fossi un uomo potente, avrei paura di bere ai pasti, per timore che spiassero le note pericolose della mia gola. I grandi dovrebbero bere con l’armatura alla gola.
TIMONE	(bevendo alla salute d’un Signore) Mio signore, di cuore; e giri la salute.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Che scorra da questa parte, mio buon signore.
APEMANTO	‘Scorra da questa parte’? Un bravo compagno; tiene bene le sue maree. Quelle salutazioni faranno apparire malmessi te e il tuo stato, Timone. Ecco qui ciò che è troppo debole per essere peccatore: onesta acqua, che mai lasciò un uomo nel fango. Questa e il mio cibo sono pari; non c’è divario. I banchetti sono troppo superbi per render grazie agli dèi. La grazia di Apemanto Dèi immortali, non chiedo ricchezza. Non prego per nessuno, se non per me stesso. Concedete ch’io non sia mai tanto sciocco da fidarmi d’un uomo per giuramento o contratto, o d’una meretrice per il suo pianto, o d’un cane che par dormire, o d’un carceriere con la mia libertà, o dei miei amici se avessi bisogno di loro. Amen. E dunque all’opera. I ricchi peccano, e io mangio radici.
(didascalia)	Mangia
APEMANTO	Buon pro faccia al tuo buon cuore, Apemanto.
TIMONE	Capitano Alcibiade, il vostro cuore è ora sul campo.
ALCIBIADE	Il mio cuore è sempre al vostro servizio, mio signore.
TIMONE	Preferireste una colazione di nemici a un pranzo d’amici.
ALCISIADES	Purché fossero freschi di sangue, mio signore; non c’è carne come la loro. Vorrei il mio migliore amico a un tale banchetto.
APEMANTO	Fossero allora tutti quegli adulatori tuoi nemici, così potresti ucciderli e invitarmi a loro.
PRIMO SIGNORE	(a Timone) Se solo avessimo quella felicità, mio signore, che voleste una volta servirvi dei nostri cuori, per cui potessimo esprimere qualche parte del nostro zelo, ci riterremmo per sempre appagati.
TIMONE	Oh, senza dubbio, buoni amici, gli dèi stessi hanno provveduto che io abbia molto aiuto da voi. Come sareste altrimenti stati miei amici? Perché avreste quel caritatevole titolo fra mille, se non apparteneste principalmente al mio cuore? Ho detto di voi a me stesso più di quanto voi possiate con modestia dire in vostro favore; e fin qui vi confermo. ‘O voi dèi,’ penso, ‘che bisogno abbiamo d’amici se non dovessimo mai aver bisogno di loro? Sarebbero le creature più inutili che vivano, se non avessimo mai da servircene, e somiglierebbero assai a dolci strumenti appesi nelle custodie, che serbano i loro suoni per sé.’ Sì, spesso ho desiderato d’essere più povero, per potermi accostare di più a voi. Siamo nati per fare benefici; e che cosa possiamo chiamare nostra di meglio o di più proprio delle ricchezze dei nostri amici? Oh, che prezioso conforto è avere tanti che, come fratelli, dispongono l’uno delle fortune dell’altro! Oh, la gioia se ne va prima ancora di poter nascere: i miei occhi non riescono a trattenere l’acqua, mi pare. Per dimenticare i loro difetti, bevo a voi.
APEMANTO	Piangi per farli bere, Timone.
SECONDO SIGNORE	(a Timone) La gioia ebbe simile concepimento nei nostri occhi, e in quell’istante come un bimbo balzò fuori.
APEMANTO	Oh, oh, rido a pensare quel bimbo un bastardo.
TERZO SIGNORE	(a Timone) V’assicuro, mio signore, m’avete molto commosso.
APEMANTO	Molto! Squilla una fanfara dentro
TIMONE	Che significa quella tromba?
(didascalia)	Entra un Servo
TIMONE	Ebbene?
SERVO	Con vostra licenza, mio signore, ci sono certe dame desiderosissime d’essere ammesse.
TIMONE	Dame? Quali sono i loro voleri?
SERVO	Viene con loro un precursore, mio signore, che ha l’ufficio di significare i loro desideri.
TIMONE	Vi prego, siano ammesse.
(didascalia)	Entra uno in veste di Cupido
CUPIDO	Salute a te, degno Timone, e a tutti coloro che gustano le tue munificenze! I cinque migliori sensi ti riconoscono loro patrono, e vengono liberamente a felicitare il tuo generoso petto. L’udito, il gusto, il tatto, l’olfatto, tutti, appagati si levano dalla tua mensa. Solo ora vengono a far festa ai tuoi occhi.
TIMONE	Siano tutti benvenuti. Abbiano cortese accoglienza.
(didascalia)	La musica dia loro il benvenuto! Esce Cupido
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE
TIMONE	Vedete, mio signore, quanto ampiamente siete amato.
(didascalia)	Musica. Entra una mascherata di Dame in veste d’Amazzoni, con liuti in mano, danzando e suonando
APEMANTO	Ehilà, che spazzata di vanità viene da questa parte! Danzano? Sono pazze. Simile a follia è la gloria di questa vita quanto questa pompa a paragone d’un po’ d’olio e d’una radice. Ci facciamo sciocchi per divertirci, e spendiamo le nostre adulazioni per bere quegli uomini sulla cui vecchiaia le rivomitiamo poi con velenoso dispetto e invidia. Chi vive che non sia depravato o non depravi? Chi muore che non porti alla tomba un calcio in dono dagli amici? Avrei paura che quelli che danzano ora davanti a me un giorno mi calpestino. È già accaduto. Gli uomini chiudono le porte al sole che tramonta. I Signori si levano da tavola con molte adorazioni a Timone; e per mostrare il loro amore ciascuno sceglie un’ Amazzone, e tutti danzano, uomini con donne, una nobile aria o due agli oboi; e cessano
TIMONE	Avete fatto molta grazia ai nostri piaceri, belle dame, avete dato bella foggia al nostro intrattenimento, che non era neppure a metà così bello e cortese. Gli avete aggiunto pregio e lustro, e m’avete intrattenuto con una mia stessa invenzione. Ve ne devo ringraziare.
(didascalia)	PRIMA DAMA
TIMONE	Mio signore, ci prendete proprio nel migliore dei modi.
APEMANTO	In fede mia; ché il peggio è lurido, e non reggerebbe a esser preso, ne dubito.
TIMONE	Dame, un banchetto leggero vi attende. Compiacetevi di disporne.
TUTTE LE DAME	Con molta gratitudine, mio signore. Escono le Dame
TIMONE	Flavio.
FLAVIO	Mio signore.
TIMONE	Portami qui il piccolo cofanetto.
FLAVIO	Sì, mio signore. (A parte) Ancora gioielli? Non c’è modo di contrariarlo nel suo umore, altrimenti glielo direi bene, in fede mia lo farei. Quando tutto è speso, allora vorrebbe esser contrariato, se potesse. È peccato che la munificenza non abbia occhi di dietro, ché l’uomo non fosse mai misero per il suo buon animo. Esce
PRIMO SIGNORE	Dove sono i nostri uomini?
SERVO	Qui, mio signore, pronti.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE I nostri cavalli. Esce il Servo
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio col cofanetto. Lo dà a Timone, ed esce
TIMONE	O amici miei, ho una parola da dirvi. Vedete, mio buon signore, devo pregarvi di onorarmi tanto da dar pregio a questo gioiello. Accettatelo e portatelo, caro mio signore.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Sono già così avanti nei vostri doni.
TUTTI I SIGNORI	E così tutti noi. Timone dà loro gioielli.
(didascalia)	Entra un Servo
PRIMO SERVO	Mio signore, ci sono certi nobili del senato appena smontati da cavallo e venuti a farvi visita.
TIMONE	Sono i benvenuti. Esce il Servo
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio
FLAVIO	Supplico vostro onore, degnatemi d’una parola; vi tocca da vicino.
TIMONE	Da vicino? Ebbene, un’altra volta t’ascolterò. Ti prego, prepariamoci a offrir loro accoglienza.
FLAVIO	A stento so come.
(didascalia)	Entra un Secondo Servo
SECONDO SERVO	Con licenza di vostro onore, il signor Lucio per suo libero amore vi ha donato quattro cavalli bianchi come latte bardati d’argento.
TIMONE	Li accetterò di buon grado. Che i doni siano degnamente accolti.
(didascalia)	Esce il Servo
(didascalia)	Entra un Terzo Servo
TIMONE	Ebbene, che notizie?
TERZO SERVO	Con vostra licenza, mio signore, quell’onorevole gentiluomo il signor Lucullo chiede la vostra compagnia domani per cacciare con lui, e ha mandato a vostro onore due coppie di levrieri.
TIMONE	Caccerò con lui, e siano ricevuti non senza giusta ricompensa. Esce il Servo
FLAVIO	(a parte) Dove andrà a finire tutto questo? Ci comanda di provvedere e di fare gran doni, e tutto da uno scrigno vuoto; né vuol conoscere la sua borsa, né concedermi questo: di mostrargli che mendicante sia il suo cuore, non avendo alcun potere di far buoni i suoi desideri. Le sue promesse volano tanto oltre il suo stato che quel che dice è tutto a debito, egli deve per ogni parola. È così generoso che ora ne paga gli interessi. Le sue terre sono iscritte nei loro libri. Bene, vorrei essere gentilmente rimosso dall’ufficio prima d’esserne cacciato per forza. Più felice è chi non ha amici da nutrire che chi ne ha di tali da superare perfino i nemici. Sanguino internamente per il mio signore. Esce
TIMONE	(ai Signori) Vi fate gran torto, sminuite troppo i vostri meriti. (Al Secondo Signore) Ecco, mio signore, un pegno del nostro amore.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Con più che comune gratitudine lo riceverò.
TERZO SIGNORE	Oh, egli è l’anima stessa della munificenza!
TIMONE	(al Primo Signore) E ora ricordo, mio signore, che l’altro giorno spendeste buone parole per un corsiero baio che cavalcavo. È vostro, perché vi piaceva.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Oh, vi supplico, perdonatemi in questo, mio signore.
TIMONE	Potete credermi sulla parola, mio signore, so che nessuno può lodare con giustizia se non ciò che ama. Peso l’affetto dei miei amici col mio. Vi dirò il vero, farò ricorso a voi.
TUTTI I SIGNORI	Oh, nessuno sarà più benvenuto.
TIMONE	Prendo tutto e le vostre singole visite tanto a cuore, che non basta dare. Mi pare che potrei distribuire regni ai miei amici, e non stancarmi mai. Alcibiade, tu sei un soldato, perciò di rado ricco.
(didascalia)	Facendo un dono Ti viene per carità, ché tutto
TIMONE	il tuo vivere è fra i morti, e tutte le terre che possiedi giacciono in un campo di battaglia.
ALCIBIADE	Sì, terra insozzata, mio signore.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Siamo così virtuosamente obbligati—
TIMONE	E così io a voi.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Così infinitamente affezionati—
TIMONE	Tutto a voi. Lumi, più lumi!
PRIMO SIGNORE	Il meglio di felicità, onore e fortune resti con voi, signor Timone.
TIMONE	Pronto per i suoi amici.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Timone e Apemanto
APEMANTO	Che baccano qui, un servire di cenni e uno sporgere di deretani! Dubito che le loro gambe valgano le somme che si danno per esse. L’amicizia è piena di feccia. Mi pare che cuori falsi non dovrebbero mai avere gambe sane. Così gli sciocchi onesti spendono la loro ricchezza in riverenze.
TIMONE	Ora, Apemanto, se tu non fossi arcigno sarei buono con te.
APEMANTO	No, non voglio nulla; ché se fossi corrotto anch’io, non resterebbe nessuno a inveire contro di te, e allora peccheresti più in fretta. Tu dai da tanto tempo, Timone, che temo darai via te stesso in carta fra poco. Che bisogno c’è di questi banchetti, pompe e vanaglorie?
TIMONE	No, se una volta cominci a inveire contro la società, ho giurato di non darti ascolto. Addio, e vieni con musica migliore. Esce
APEMANTO SO.	Non vuoi ascoltarmi ora, non lo farai allora. Ti chiuderò il tuo cielo. Oh, che le orecchie degli uomini debbano essere sorde al consiglio, ma non all’adulazione!
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Senator With bonds
SENATOR	And late five thousand. To Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand, besides my former sum, Which makes it five-and-twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste! It cannot hold, it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar’s dog And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. If I would sell my horse and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon— Ask nothing, give it him—it foals me straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold. No reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis ho! Caphis, I say!
(didascalia)	Enter Caphis
CAPHIS	Here, sir. What is your pleasure?
SENATOR	Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon. Importune him for my moneys. Be not ceased With slight denial, nor then silenced when ‘Commend me to your master’, and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus; but tell him My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own, his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit. I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be tossed and turned to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone. Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand, for I do fear When every feather sticks in his own wing Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
CAPHIS	I go, sir.
(didascalia)	SENATOR giving him bonds
CAPHIS	Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in count.
CAPHIS	I will, sir.
SENATOR	Go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra un Senatore con obbligazioni
SENATORE	E di recente cinquemila. A Varrone e a Isidoro ne deve novemila, oltre alla mia somma precedente, il che fa venticinque. Sempre in moto di furiosa dissipazione! Non può reggere, non reggerà. Se voglio oro, basta rubare il cane d’un mendicante e darlo a Timone: ecco, il cane conia oro. Se volessi vendere il mio cavallo e comprarne venti altri migliori di lui: ebbene, dà il mio cavallo a Timone— non chieder nulla, daglielo—e subito mi figlia, e cavalli robusti. Nessun portiere alla sua porta, ma piuttosto uno che sorride e sempre invita quanti passano. Non può reggere. Nessuna ragione può scandagliare il suo stato in sicurezza. Ehi, Caphis! Caphis, dico!
(didascalia)	Entra Caphis
CAPHIS	Eccomi, signore. Qual è il vostro volere?
SENATORE	Mettiti il mantello e affrettati dal signor Timone. Importunalo per i miei denari. Non lasciarti fermare da un lieve diniego, né zittire quando ‘Salutami il tuo padrone’, e il berretto gioca nella destra, così; ma digli che i miei bisogni gridano a me, devo provvedere del mio, i suoi giorni e i suoi termini son passati, e il mio affidarmi alle sue scadenze infrante ha colpito il mio credito. Io l’amo e l’onoro, ma non devo rompermi la schiena per guarirgli un dito. Immediati sono i miei bisogni, e il mio sollievo non dev’essermi palleggiato e rigirato in parole, ma trovare immediato soccorso. Vattene. Assumi l’aspetto più importuno, un volto d’esigenza, perché temo che, quando ogni penna torni alla propria ala, il signor Timone resterà un nudo gabbiano, lui che ora sfolgora fenice. Vattene.
CAPHIS	Vado, signore.
(didascalia)	SENATORE dandogli le obbligazioni
CAPHIS	Porta con te le obbligazioni, e tieni conto delle scadenze.
CAPHIS	Lo farò, signore.
SENATORE	Va’.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, with many bills in his hand
FLAVIUS	No care, no stop; so senseless of expense That he will neither know how to maintain it Nor cease his flow of riot, takes no account How things go from him, nor resumes no care Of what is to continue. Never mind Was to be so unwise to be so kind. What shall be done? He will not hear till feel.
(didascalia)	A sound of horns within
FLAVIUS	I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. Fie, fie, fie, fie!
(didascalia)	Enter Caphis at one door and Servants of Isidore and Varro at another door
CAPHIS	Good even, Varro. What, you come for money?
VARRO’S SERVANT	Is’t not your business too?
CAPHIS	It is; and yours too, Isidore?
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	It is SO.
CAPHIS	Would we were all discharged.
VARRO’S SERVANT	I fear it.
CAPHIS	Here comes the lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon and his train, amongst them Alcibiades, as from hunting
TIMON	So soon as dinner’s done we’ll forth again, My Alcibiades. Caphis meets Timon With me? What is your will?
CAPHIS	My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
TIMON	Dues? Whence are you?
CAPHIS	Of Athens here, my lord.
TIMON	Go to my steward.
CAPHIS	Please it your lordship, he hath put me off, To the succession of new days, this month. My master is awaked by great occasion To call upon his own, and humbly prays you That with your other noble parts you’ll suit In giving him his right.
TIMON	Mine honest friend, I prithee but repair to me next morning.
CAPHIS	Nay, good my lord.
TIMON	Contain thyself, good friend.
VARRO’S SERVANT	One Varro’s servant, my good lord.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Timon) From Isidore. He humbly prays your speedy payment.
CAPHIS	(to Timon) If you did know, my lord, my master’s wants—
VARRO’S SERVANT	(to Timon) ’Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks and past.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Timon) Your steward puts me off, my lord, and I Am sent expressly to your lordship.
TIMON	Give me breath.— I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on. I’ll wait upon you instantly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Alcibiades and Timon’s train
TIMON	(To Flavius) Come hither. Pray you, How goes the world, that I am thus encountered With clamorous demands of broken bonds And the detention of long-since-due debts, Against my honour?
FLAVIUS	(to Servants) Please you, gentlemen, The time is unagreeable to this business; Your importunacy cease till after dinner, That I may make his lordship understand Wherefore you are not paid.
TIMON	(to Servants) Do so, my friends. (To Flavius) See them well entertained. Exit
FLAVIUS	Pray draw near.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus and Fool
CAPHIS	Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus. Let’s ha’ some sport with ’em.
VARRO’S SERVANT	Hang him, he’ll abuse us.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	A plague upon him, dog!
VARRO’S SERVANT	How dost, fool?
APEMANTUS	Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
VARRO’S SERVANT	I speak not to thee.
APEMANTUS	No, ’tis to thyself, (To Fool) Come away.
ISIDORE’S SERVANT	(to Varro’s Servant) There’s the fool hangs on your back already. APEMANTUs No, thou stand‘st single: thou’rt not on him yet.
CAPHIS	(to Isidore’s Servant) Where’s the fool now?
APEMANTUS	He last asked the question. Poor rogues’ and usurers’ men, bawds between gold and want.
ALL SERVANTS	What are we, Apemantus? 6
APEMANTUS	Asses.
ALL SERVANTS	Why?
APEMANTUS	That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Speak to ’em, fool.
FOOL	How do you, gentlemen?
ALL SERVANTS	Gramercies, good fool. How does your mistress?
FOOL	She’s e’en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth.
APEMANTUS	Good; gramercy.
(didascalia)	Enter Page with two letters
FOOL	Look you, here comes my mistress’ page.
PAGE	Why, how now, captain? What do you in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS	Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.
PAGE	Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters. I know not which is which.
APEMANTUS	Canst not read?
PAGE	No.
APEMANTUS	There will little learning die then that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thou’lt die a bawd.
PAGE	Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a dog’s death. Answer not; I am gone. Exit
APEMANTUS	E‘en so thou outrunn’st grace. Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timon’s.
FOOL	Will you leave me there?
APEMANTUS	If Timon stay at home. (To Servants) You three serve three usurers?
ALL SERVANTS	Ay. Would they served us.
APEMANTUS	So would I: as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.
FOOL	Are you three usurers’ men?
ALL SERVANTS	Ay, fool. 95
FOOL	I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters they approach sadly and go away merry, but they enter my mistress’s house merrily and go away sadly. The reason of this?
VARRO’S SERVANT	I could render one.
APEMANTUS	Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no less esteemed.
VARRO’S SERVANT	What is a whoremaster, fool?
FOOL	A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. ’Tis a spirit; sometime ’t appears like a lord, sometime like a lawyer, sometime like a philosopher with two stones more than’s artificial one. He is very often like a knight; and generally in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.
VARRO’S SERVANT	Thou art not altogether a fool.
FOOL	Nor thou altogether a wise man. As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lack ’st.
APEMANTUS	That answer might have become Apemantus. Enter Timon and Flavius
ALL SERVANTS	Aside, aside, here comes Lord Timon.
APEMANTUS	Come with me, fool, come.
FOOL	I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and woman: sometime the philosopher.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Apemantus and Fool
FLAVIUS	(to Servants) Pray you, walk near. I’ll speak with you anon.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Servants
TIMON	You make me marvel wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laid my state before me, That I might so have rated my expense As I had leave of means.
FLAVIUS	You would not hear me. At many leisures I proposed—
TIMON	Go to. Perchance some single vantages you took, When my indisposition put you back, And that unaptness made your minister Thus to excuse yourself.
FLAVIUS	O my good lord, At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you; you would throw them off And say you summed them in mine honesty. When for some trifling present you have bid me Return so much, I have shook my head and wept, Yea, ‘gainst th’authority of manners prayed you To hold your hand more close. I did endure Not seldom nor no slight checks when I have Prompted you in the ebb of your estate And your great flow of debts. My lovèd lord— Though you hear now too late, yet now’s a time— The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts.
TIMON	Let all my land be sold.
FLAVIUS	‘Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone, And what remains will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues. The future comes apace. What shall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck’ning?
TIMON	To Lacedaemon did my land extend.
FLAVIUS	O my good lord, the world is but a word. Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone.
TIMON	You tell me true.
FLAVIUS	If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before th’exactest auditors And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppressed With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blazed with lights and brayed with minstrelsy, I have retired me to a wasteful cock, And set mine eyes at flow.
TIMON	Prithee, no more.
FLAVIUS	‘Heavens,’ have I said, ‘the bounty of this lord! How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants This night englutted! Who is not Timon’s? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon’s? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made. Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of winter show’rs, These flies are couched.’
TIMON	Come, sermon me no further. No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart. Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart. If I would broach the vessels of my love And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and men’s fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak.
FLAVIUS	Assurance bless your thoughts!
TIMON	And in some sort these wants of mine are crowned That I account them blessings, for by these Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you Mistake my fortunes. I am wealthy in my friends.—
(didascalia)	Within there, Flaminius, Servilius!
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius, Servilius, and a Third Servant
ALL SERVANTS	My lord, my lord.
TIMON	I will dispatch you severally, (To Servilius) You to Lord Lucius, (To Flaminius) to Lord Lucullus you— I hunted with his honour today— (To Third Servant) You to Sempronius. Commend me to their loves, And I am proud, say, that my occasions have Found time to use ’em toward a supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents.
FLAMINIUS	As you have said, my lord. Exeunt Servants
FLAVIUS	Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Hmh!
TIMON	Go you, sir, to the senators, Of whom, even to the state’s best health, I have Deserved this hearing. Bid ‘em send o’th’ instant A thousand talents to me.
FLAVIUS	I have been bold, For that I knew it the most general way, To them, to use your signet and your name; But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return.
TIMON	Is’t true? Can’t be?
FLAVIUS	They answer in a joint and corporate voice That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry, you are honourable, But yet they could have wished—they know not— Something hath been amiss—a noble nature May catch a wrench—would all were well—’tis pity; And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold moving nods They froze me into silence.
TIMON	You gods reward them! Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary. Their blood is caked, ‘tis cold, it seldom flows. ’Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; And nature as it grows again toward earth Is fashioned for the journey dull and heavy. Go to Ventidius. Prithee, be not sad. Thou art true and honest—ingenuously I speak— No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately Buried his father, by whose death he’s stepped Into a great estate. When he was poor, Imprisoned, and in scarcity of friends, I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me. Bid him suppose some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be remembered With those five talents. That had, give’t these fellows To whom ‘tis instant due. Ne’er speak or think That Timon’s fortunes ’mong his friends can sink.
FLAVIUS	I would I could not think it. That thought is bounty’s foe: Being free itself, it thinks all others so.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio, con molte fatture in mano
FLAVIO	Nessuna cura, nessun freno; così insensato nella spesa che non saprà né come sostenerla né cesserà il suo fiume di sperpero, non tien conto di come le cose gli sfuggano, né si riprende cura di ciò che deve durare. Mai animo fu tanto insensato per essere tanto generoso. Che si farà? Non vuole udire finché non senta.
(didascalia)	Suono di corni dall’interno
FLAVIO	Devo parlargli chiaro, ora che torna dalla caccia. Ohibò, ohibò, ohibò, ohibò!
(didascalia)	Entra Caphis da una porta e i Servi d’Isidoro e di Varrone da un’altra porta
CAPHIS	Buona sera, Varrone. Come, venite per denaro?
SERVO DI VARRONE	Non è affare anche vostro?
CAPHIS	Lo è; e anche vostro, Isidoro?
SERVO D’ISIDORO	È così.
CAPHIS	Fossimo tutti soddisfatti.
SERVO DI VARRONE	Lo temo.
CAPHIS	Ecco che viene il signore.
(didascalia)	Entrano Timone e il suo seguito, fra loro Alcibiade, come di ritorno dalla caccia
TIMONE	Appena finito il pranzo usciremo di nuovo, mio Alcibiade. Caphis incontra Timone Con me? Qual è il vostro volere?
CAPHIS	Mio signore, ecco una nota di certi crediti.
TIMONE	Crediti? Di dove siete?
CAPHIS	Di qui, d’Atene, mio signore.
TIMONE	Andate dal mio intendente.
CAPHIS	Con licenza di vostra signoria, egli m’ha rimandato, di giorno in giorno, per tutto questo mese. Il mio padrone è spinto da grave necessità a richiedere il suo, e umilmente vi prega che alle vostre altre nobili doti facciate accordo rendendogli il suo diritto.
TIMONE	Mio onesto amico, ti prego, torna da me domattina.
CAPHIS	No, mio buon signore.
TIMONE	Contieniti, buon amico.
SERVO DI VARRONE	Un servo di Varrone, mio buon signore.
SERVO D’ISIDORO	(a Timone) Da Isidoro. Prega umilmente il vostro sollecito pagamento.
CAPHIS	(a Timone) Se sapeste, mio signore, i bisogni del mio padrone—
SERVO DI VARRONE	(a Timone) Era scaduto con penale, mio signore, da sei settimane e più.
SERVO D’ISIDORO	(a Timone) Il vostro intendente mi rimanda, mio signore, e io sono mandato espressamente a vostra signoria.
TIMONE	Datemi respiro.— Vi supplico, miei buoni signori, proseguite. Vi raggiungo all’istante.
(didascalia)	Escono Alcibiade e il seguito di Timone
TIMONE	(A Flavio) Vieni qua. Di grazia, come va il mondo, che io sia così assalito da clamorose richieste di obbligazioni infrante e dal trattenersi di debiti scaduti da tempo, contro il mio onore?
FLAVIO	(ai Servi) Con licenza, signori, il momento non è adatto a questo affare; cessi la vostra insistenza fino a dopo il pranzo, ch’io possa far intendere a sua signoria perché non siate pagati.
TIMONE	(ai Servi) Fate così, amici miei. (A Flavio) Siano bene trattati. Esce
FLAVIO	Prego, accostatevi.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano Apemanto e il Buffone
CAPHIS	Ferma, ferma, ecco che viene il buffone con Apemanto. Divertiamoci un po’ con loro.
SERVO DI VARRONE	Al diavolo, ci insulterà.
SERVO D’ISIDORO	La peste lo colga, cane!
SERVO DI VARRONE	Come stai, buffone?
APEMANTO	Dialoghi con la tua ombra?
SERVO DI VARRONE	Non parlo a te.
APEMANTO	No, è a te stesso. (Al Buffone) Vieni via.
SERVO D’ISIDORO	(al Servo di Varrone) Ecco il buffone già ti pende dalla schiena. APEMANTO No, tu stai solo: non sei ancora addosso a lui.
CAPHIS	(al Servo d’Isidoro) Dov’è ora il buffone?
APEMANTO	Chi ha fatto per ultimo la domanda. Uomini di poveri furfanti e d’usurai, ruffiani fra l’oro e il bisogno.
TUTTI I SERVI	Che siamo noi, Apemanto? 6
APEMANTO	Asini.
TUTTI I SERVI	Perché?
APEMANTO	Perché chiedete a me che cosa siete, e non conoscete voi stessi. Parla loro, buffone.
BUFFONE	Come state, signori?
TUTTI I SERVI	Grazie tante, buon buffone. Come sta la tua padrona?
BUFFONE	Sta giusto mettendo l’acqua al fuoco per spennare polli come voi. Vorremmo potervi vedere a Corinto.
APEMANTO	Bene; grazie tante.
(didascalia)	Entra un Paggio con due lettere
BUFFONE	Guardate, ecco il paggio della mia padrona.
PAGGIO	Ehi, che c’è, capitano? Che fate in questa savia compagnia? Come stai, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Vorrei avere una verga in bocca, per poterti rispondere con profitto.
PAGGIO	Ti prego, Apemanto, leggimi l’indirizzo di queste lettere. Non so quale sia quale.
APEMANTO	Non sai leggere?
PAGGIO	No.
APEMANTO	Poca dottrina morirà dunque il giorno che sarai impiccato. Questa è per il signor Timone, questa per Alcibiade. Va’, sei nato bastardo, e morirai ruffiano.
PAGGIO	Tu fosti figliato cane, e morirai di fame d’una morte da cane. Non rispondere; me ne vado. Esce
APEMANTO	Proprio così superi di corsa la grazia. Buffone, verrò con te dal signor Timone.
BUFFONE	Mi lascerete là?
APEMANTO	Se Timone resta in casa. (Ai Servi) Voi tre servite tre usurai?
TUTTI I SERVI	Sì. Volesse il cielo che servissero noi.
APEMANTO	Lo vorrei anch’io: buon servizio come mai boia ne rese a ladro.
BUFFONE	Siete voi tre uomini d’usurai?
TUTTI I SERVI	Sì, buffone. 95
BUFFONE	Credo che non ci sia usuraio che non abbia uno sciocco per servo. La mia padrona è una di quelli, e io sono il suo buffone. Quando gli uomini vengono a prendere in prestito dai vostri padroni si accostano tristi e se ne vanno allegri, ma entrano nella casa della mia padrona allegri e se ne vanno tristi. La ragione di ciò?
SERVO DI VARRONE	Potrei darne una.
APEMANTO	Fallo dunque, così potremo tenerti per un puttaniere e un furfante, e ciò nonostante non sarai stimato meno.
SERVO DI VARRONE	Che cos’è un puttaniere, buffone?
BUFFONE	Uno sciocco in bei panni, e qualcosa di simile a te. È uno spirito; talvolta appare come un signore, talvolta come un avvocato, talvolta come un filosofo con due pietre in più della sua artificiale. È spessissimo simile a un cavaliere; e in generale in tutte le forme in cui l’uomo va su e giù dagli ottanta ai tredici anni, in quelle cammina questo spirito.
SERVO DI VARRONE	Non sei del tutto uno sciocco.
BUFFONE	Né tu del tutto un saggio. Quanta follia ho io, tanto senno manca a te.
APEMANTO	Quella risposta sarebbe stata degna di Apemanto. Entrano Timone e Flavio
TUTTI I SERVI	Da parte, da parte, ecco che viene il signor Timone.
APEMANTO	Vieni con me, buffone, vieni.
BUFFONE	Non sempre seguo l’innamorato, il fratello maggiore e la donna: talvolta il filosofo.
(didascalia)	Escono Apemanto e il Buffone
FLAVIO	(ai Servi) Di grazia, restate qui vicino. Vi parlerò fra poco.
(didascalia)	Escono i Servi
TIMONE	Mi fai stupire che prima di quest’ora tu non m’abbia esposto per intero il mio stato, ch’io avessi potuto misurare la mia spesa secondo che i mezzi mi consentivano.
FLAVIO	Non volevate ascoltarmi. In molti momenti liberi ve lo proposi—
TIMONE	Suvvia. Forse cogliesti qualche singola occasione, quando la mia indisposizione ti respingeva, e di quella malagevolezza facesti tuo ministro per scusarti così.
FLAVIO	O mio buon signore, molte volte portai i miei conti, li posi davanti a voi; voi li respingevate e dicevate di sommarli nella mia onestà. Quando per qualche dono da nulla m’avete ordinato di rendere tanto, io scossi il capo e piansi, anzi, contro l’autorità delle convenienze vi pregai di tenere la mano più chiusa. Sopportai non di rado né lievi rimproveri, quando v’ho avvertito del riflusso del vostro patrimonio e della gran piena dei vostri debiti. Mio amato signore— benché ora udiate troppo tardi, pure ora è il momento— tutto ciò che possedete manca della metà per pagare i vostri debiti presenti.
TIMONE	Si vendano tutte le mie terre.
FLAVIO	Son tutte impegnate, alcune perdute e andate, e quel che resta a stento chiuderà la bocca dei crediti presenti. Il futuro viene a gran passi. Che difenderà il frattempo, e alla fine come andrà il nostro conto?
TIMONE	Fino a Lacedemone si stendevano le mie terre.
FLAVIO	O mio buon signore, il mondo non è che una parola. Fosse tutto vostro da donarlo in un respiro, quanto presto se ne andrebbe.
TIMONE	Dici il vero.
FLAVIO	Se sospettate della mia amministrazione o della mia lealtà, chiamatemi davanti ai più rigorosi revisori e mettetemi alla prova. Così gli dèi m’assistano: quando tutte le nostre dispense erano oppresse da mangiatori sfrenati, quando le nostre cantine piangevano per il vino versato dagli ubriachi, quando ogni stanza fiammeggiava di lumi e strepitava di musici, io mi ritiravo presso una cannella che perdeva, e lasciavo scorrere i miei occhi.
TIMONE	Ti prego, basta.
FLAVIO	‘Cieli,’ ho detto, ‘la munificenza di questo signore! Quanti bocconi prodighi hanno servi e villani questa notte ingoiato! Chi non è di Timone? Quale cuore, testa, spada, forza, mezzo, che non sia del signor Timone? Gran Timone, nobile, degno, regale Timone! Ah, quando saranno finiti i mezzi che comprano questa lode, finito è il fiato di cui questa lode è fatta. Banchetto vinto, digiuno perduto; una nube di piogge d’inverno, e queste mosche sono acquattate.’
TIMONE	Su, non farmi altri sermoni. Nessuna munificenza villana è mai passata per il mio cuore. Imprudentemente, non ignobilmente, ho donato. Perché piangi? Puoi mancare di coscienza fino a pensare che mi mancheranno amici? Rassicura il tuo cuore. Se volessi spillare le botti del mio amore e saggiare la prova dei cuori chiedendo in prestito, gli uomini e le fortune degli uomini potrei usare francamente come posso ordinare a te di parlare.
FLAVIO	La certezza benedica i vostri pensieri!
TIMONE	E in certo modo queste mie strettezze sono coronate tanto che le tengo per benedizioni, ché per esse metterò alla prova gli amici. Vedrai come fraintendi le mie fortune. Io sono ricco d’amici.—
(didascalia)	Ehi, là dentro, Flaminio, Servilio!
(didascalia)	Entrano Flaminio, Servilio e un Terzo Servo
TUTTI I SERVI	Mio signore, mio signore.
TIMONE	Vi spedirò separatamente. (A Servilio) Tu dal signor Lucio, (A Flaminio) tu dal signor Lucullo— ho cacciato oggi con sua signoria— (Al Terzo Servo) tu da Sempronio. Raccomandatemi al loro affetto, e dite ch’io sono fiero che le mie necessità abbiano trovato il tempo di ricorrere a loro per una provvista di denaro. La richiesta sia di cinquanta talenti.
FLAMINIO	Come avete detto, mio signore. Escono i Servi
FLAVIO	Il signor Lucio e Lucullo? Ehm!
TIMONE	Andate voi, signore, dai senatori, dai quali, anche per il miglior bene dello stato, ho meritato questo ascolto. Dite loro di mandarmi all’istante mille talenti.
FLAVIO	Sono stato ardito, perché sapevo essere quella la via più consueta verso di loro, a usare il vostro sigillo e il vostro nome; ma essi scuotono il capo, e io sono qui non più ricco al ritorno.
TIMONE	È vero? Può essere?
FLAVIO	Rispondono con voce unanime e corporata che ora sono in ribasso, mancano di tesoro, non possono far quel che vorrebbero, son dolenti, voi siete onorevole, ma pure avrebbero desiderato—non sanno— qualcosa è andato storto—una nobile natura può prendere una storta—fosse tutto bene—è un peccato; e così, volgendosi ad altre gravi faccende, dopo sguardi sgraditi e queste dure frasi spezzate, con certi mezzi saluti di berretto e freddi cenni del capo mi gelarono nel silenzio.
TIMONE	Voi dèi ricompensateli! Ti prego, uomo, mostrati allegro. Questi vecchi hanno in sé ereditaria l’ingratitudine. Il loro sangue è rappreso, è freddo, di rado scorre. È mancanza di calore benigno se non sono benigni; e la natura, mentre torna a piegarsi verso la terra, è foggiata per il viaggio ottusa e pesante. Va’ da Ventidio. Ti prego, non essere triste. Sei fedele e onesto—lo dico schiettamente— nessuna colpa ti spetta. Ventidio ha di recente sepolto suo padre, per la cui morte è entrato in un gran patrimonio. Quando era povero, imprigionato, e scarso d’amici, io lo liberai con cinque talenti. Salutalo da parte mia. Digli di supporre che qualche onesta necessità tocchi il suo amico, il quale chiede d’esser ricordato con quei cinque talenti. Avutili, dalli a costoro ai quali sono immediatamente dovuti. Non dire né pensare mai che le fortune di Timone possano affondare fra i suoi amici.
FLAVIO	Vorrei non poterlo pensare. Quel pensiero è nemico della munificenza: essendo generosa essa stessa, crede tutti gli altri tali.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius, with a box under his cloak, waiting to speak with Lucullus. From his master, enters a Servant to him
LUCULLUS’ SERVANT	I have told my lord of you. He is coming down to you.
FLAMINIUS	I thank you, sir.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucullus
LUCULLUS’ SERVANT	Here’s my lord.
LUCULLUS	(aside) One of Lord Timon’s men? A gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver basin and ewer tonight.—Ftaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome, sir. (To his Servant) Fill me some wine. Exit Servant And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master?
FLAMINIUS	His health is well, sir.
LUCULLUS	I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?
FLAMINIUS	Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord’s behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply, who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein.
LUCULLUS	La, la, la, la, ‘nothing doubting’ says he? Alas, good lord! A noble gentleman ’tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha’ dined with him and told him on‘t, and come again to supper to him of purpose to have him spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha’ told him on’t, but I could ne’er get him from’t.
(didascalia)	Enter Servant, with wine
SERVANT	Please your lordship, here is the wine.
LUCULLUS	Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. (Drinking) Here’s to thee!
FLAMINIUS	Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
LUCULLUS	I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit, give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason; and canst use the time well if the time use thee well. (Drinking) Good parts in thee! (To his Servant) Get you gone, sirrah. Exit Servant Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord’s a bountiful gentleman; but thou art wise, and thou know‘st well enough, although thou com’st to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security. (Giving coins) Here’s three solidares for thee. Good boy, wink at me, and say thou saw’st me not. Fare thee well.
FLAMINIUS	Is’t possible the world should so much differ, And we alive that lived? He throws the coins at Lucullus Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee.
LUCULLUS	Ha! Now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLAMINIUS	May these add to the number that may scald thee. Let molten coin be thy damnation, Thou disease of a friend, and not himself. Has friendship such a faint and milky heart It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, I feel my master’s passion! This slave Unto this hour has my lord’s meat in him. Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment, When he is turned to poison? O, may diseases only work upon’t; And when he’s sick to death, let not that part of nature Which my lord paid for be of any power To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Flaminio, con una scatola sotto il mantello, in attesa di parlare con Lucullo. Da parte del suo padrone, gli si fa incontro un Servo
SERVO DI LUCULLO	Ho parlato di voi al mio signore. Sta scendendo da voi.
FLAMINIO	Vi ringrazio, signore.
(didascalia)	Entra Lucullo
SERVO DI LUCULLO	Ecco il mio signore.
LUCULLO	(a parte) Uno degli uomini del signor Timone? Un dono, ne son certo. Ecco, ci azzecca in pieno; stanotte ho sognato un bacile e una brocca d’argento.—Flaminio, onesto Flaminio, siete assai rispettosamente il benvenuto, signore. (Al suo Servo) Versami del vino. Esce il Servo E come sta quell’onorevole, compiuto, generoso gentiluomo d’Atene, il tuo munificentissimo buon signore e padrone?
FLAMINIO	La sua salute è buona, signore.
LUCULLO	Son proprio lieto che la sua salute sia buona, signore. E che hai là sotto il mantello, grazioso Flaminio?
FLAMINIO	In fede mia, nient’altro che una scatola vuota, signore, che a nome del mio signore vengo a pregare vostro onore di riempire; il quale, avendo grande e immediata occasione di servirsi di cinquanta talenti, ha mandato a vostra signoria perché gliene provveda, per nulla dubitando del vostro pronto soccorso in ciò.
LUCULLO	La, la, la, la, ‘per nulla dubitando’ dice? Ahimè, buon signore! È un nobile gentiluomo, se non tenesse una casa così sfarzosa. Molte volte e spesso ho pranzato con lui e gliel’ho detto, e sono tornato a cena da lui apposta per fargli spendere meno; eppure non voleva accogliere consiglio, né prendere avvertimento dal mio venire. Ogni uomo ha il suo difetto, e l’onestà è il suo. Gliel’ho detto, ma non ho mai potuto distoglierlo.
(didascalia)	Entra il Servo, col vino
SERVO	Con licenza di vostra signoria, ecco il vino.
LUCULLO	Flaminio, t’ho sempre notato savio. (Bevendo) Alla tua salute!
FLAMINIO	Vostra signoria dice ciò che le piace.
LUCULLO	T’ho sempre osservato per uno spirito docile e pronto, a darti il tuo dovuto, e uno che sa quel che spetta alla ragione; e sai usare bene il tempo se il tempo usa bene te. (Bevendo) Buone qualità in te! (Al suo Servo) Vattene, messere. Esce il Servo Accostati, onesto Flaminio. Il tuo signore è un gentiluomo munifico; ma tu sei savio, e sai bene abbastanza, benché tu venga da me, che questo non è tempo da prestar denaro, specialmente sulla nuda amicizia senza garanzia. (Dandogli monete) Ecco tre solidari per te. Bravo ragazzo, chiudi un occhio su di me, e di’ che non m’hai visto. Sta’ bene.
FLAMINIO	È possibile che il mondo tanto muti, e noi vivi che vivemmo? Getta le monete addosso a Lucullo Vola, dannata bassezza, a colui che t’adora.
LUCULLO	Ah! Ora vedo che sei uno sciocco, e degno del tuo padrone.
(didascalia)	Esce
FLAMINIO	S’aggiungano queste al numero di ciò che potrà scottarti. Sia moneta fusa la tua dannazione, tu malattia d’un amico, e non lui stesso. Ha l’amicizia un cuore così fiacco e lattiginoso da inacidirsi in meno di due notti? O voi dèi, sento la passione del mio padrone! Questo schiavo ha in sé fino a quest’ora le vivande del mio signore. Perché dovrebbero giovargli e mutarsi in nutrimento, quando lui s’è mutato in veleno? Oh, che solo le malattie vi operino sopra; e quando sarà malato a morte, quella parte di natura che il mio signore ha pagato non abbia alcun potere di scacciare il male, ma prolunghi la sua agonia.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lucius, with three Strangers
LUCIUS	Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend, and an honourable gentleman.
FIRST STRANGER	We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon’s happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him.
LUCIUS	Fie, no, do not believe it. He cannot want for money. 9
SECOND STRANGER	But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents—nay, urged extremely for‘t, and showed what necessity belonged to’t, and yet was denied.
LUCIUS	How?
SECOND STRANGER	I tell you, denied, my lord.
LUCIUS	What a strange case was that! Now before the gods, I am ashamed on’t. Denied that honourable man? There was very little honour showed in’t. For my own part, I must needs confess I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and suchlike trifles—nothing comparing to his; yet had he not mistook him and sent to me, I should ne’er have denied his occasion so many talents.
(didascalia)	Enter Servilius
SERVILIUS	(aside) See, by good hap yonder’s my lord. I have sweat to see his honour. (To Lucius) My honoured lord!
(didascalia)	LUCIUS Servilius! You are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well. Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
SERVILIUS	May it please your honour, my lord hath sent—
LUCIUS	Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord, he’s ever sending. How shall I thank him, think’st thou? And what has he sent now?
SERVILIUS	He’s only sent his present occasion now, my lord, requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.
(didascalia)	LUCIUS
SERVILIUS	I know his lordship is but merry with me. He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
SERVILIUS	But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous I should not urge it half so faithfully.
LUCIUS	Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
SERVILIUS	Upon my soul, ’tis true, sir.
LUCIUS	What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time when I might ha’ shown myself honourable) How unluckily it happened that I should purchase the day before a little part, and undo a great deal of honour! Servilius, now before the gods I am not able to do, the more beast I, I say. I was sending to use Lord Timon myself—these gentlemen can witness—but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done’t now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me: I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him?
SERVILIUS	Yes, sir, I shall.
LUCIUS	I’ll look you out a good turn, Servilius. Exit Servilius True as you said: Timon is shrunk indeed; And he that’s once denied will hardly speed. Exit
FIRST STRANGER	Do you observe this, Hostilius?
SECOND STRANGER	Ay, too well.
FIRST STRANGER	Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece Is every flatterer’s spirit. Who can call him his friend That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, Timon has been this lord’s father And kept his credit with his purse, Supported his estate; nay, Timon’s money Has paid his men their wages. He ne’er drinks, But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip; And yet—O see the monstrousness of man When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!— He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars.
THIRD STRANGER	Religion groans at it.
FIRST STRANGER	For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me To mark me for his friend; yet I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me I would have put my wealth into donation And the best half should have returned to him, So much I love his heart. But I perceive Men must learn now with pity to dispense, For policy sits above conscience.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Lucio, con tre Forestieri
LUCIO	Chi, il signor Timone? È un mio ottimo amico, e un onorevole gentiluomo.
PRIMO FORESTIERO	Lo conosciamo per non meno, benché gli siamo soltanto estranei. Ma posso dirvi una cosa, mio signore, che odo da voci comuni: ora le ore felici del signor Timone sono finite e passate, e il suo patrimonio si ritira da lui.
LUCIO	Via, no, non lo credete. Non può mancargli denaro. 9
SECONDO FORESTIERO	Ma credete a questo, mio signore, che non molto tempo fa uno dei suoi uomini fu dal signor Lucullo a chiedere in prestito altrettanti talenti—anzi, insistette all’estremo, e mostrò quale necessità vi fosse legata, eppure gli fu rifiutato.
LUCIO	Come?
SECONDO FORESTIERO	Vi dico, rifiutato, mio signore.
LUCIO	Che caso strano fu quello! Ora, davanti agli dèi, me ne vergogno. Rifiutare quell’uomo onorevole? Ben poco onore si mostrò in ciò. Per parte mia, devo confessare d’aver ricevuto da lui qualche piccola cortesia, come denaro, argenteria, gioielli e simili inezie—nulla a paragone delle sue; eppure, se egli non si fosse sbagliato e avesse mandato da me, non avrei mai negato alla sua occasione altrettanti talenti.
(didascalia)	Entra Servilio
SERVILIO	(a parte) Guarda, per buona sorte ecco laggiù il mio signore. Ho sudato per vedere sua signoria. (A Lucio) Mio onorato signore!
(didascalia)	LUCIO Servilio! Ben trovato, signore. Sta’ bene. Salutami il tuo onorevole e virtuoso signore, mio squisitissimo amico.
SERVILIO	Con licenza di vostro onore, il mio signore ha mandato—
LUCIO	Ah! Che ha mandato? Sono tanto obbligato a quel signore, manda sempre qualcosa. Come lo ringrazierò, secondo te? E che ha mandato ora?
SERVILIO	Ha mandato soltanto la sua presente necessità, mio signore, chiedendo a vostra signoria di soccorrere il suo immediato bisogno con altrettanti talenti.
(didascalia)	LUCIO
SERVILIO	So che sua signoria scherza soltanto con me. Non possono mancargli cinquemilacinquecento talenti.
SERVILIO	Ma nel frattempo gliene mancano meno, mio signore. Se la sua occasione non fosse virtuosa non insisterei neppure per metà con tanta fedeltà.
LUCIO	Parli sul serio, Servilio?
SERVILIO	Sulla mia anima, è vero, signore.
LUCIO	Che bestia malvagia fui a spogliarmi proprio in vista d’un così buon momento, quando avrei potuto mostrarmi onorevole! Come sfortunatamente accadde che io comprassi il giorno prima una piccola parte, e disfacessi gran parte del mio onore! Servilio, ora davanti agli dèi non sono in grado di farlo, tanto più bestia io, dico. Stavo mandando io stesso a ricorrere al signor Timone—questi gentiluomini possono testimoniarlo—ma non vorrei per tutta la ricchezza d’Atene averlo fatto ora. Salutatemi con larghezza sua buona signoria; e spero che il suo onore penserà il meglio di me, perché non ho il potere d’essere generoso. E ditegli questo da parte mia: che la considero una delle mie più grandi afflizioni, ditegli, di non poter far piacere a un così onorevole gentiluomo. Buon Servilio, mi farete l’amicizia di riferirgli le mie stesse parole?
SERVILIO	Sì, signore, lo farò.
LUCIO	Ti procurerò un buon servizio, Servilio. Esce Servilio Vero come dicevate: Timone è davvero in ribasso; e chi una volta è respinto difficilmente avrà fortuna. Esce
PRIMO FORESTIERO	Osservate questo, Ostilio?
SECONDO FORESTIERO	Sì, fin troppo bene.
PRIMO FORESTIERO	Ecco, questa è l’anima del mondo, e proprio della stessa stoffa è lo spirito d’ogni adulatore. Chi può chiamarlo suo amico colui che intinge nello stesso piatto? Ché, per quanto io so, Timone è stato il padre di questo signore e ne ha sostenuto il credito con la propria borsa, ne ha sorretto il patrimonio; anzi, il denaro di Timone ha pagato ai suoi uomini il salario. Non beve mai senza che l’argento di Timone gli calchi il labbro; eppure—oh, vedete la mostruosità dell’uomo quando si mostra in forma ingrata!— egli gli nega, in proporzione dei suoi averi, quel che gli uomini caritatevoli danno ai mendicanti.
TERZO FORESTIERO	La religione ne geme.
PRIMO FORESTIERO	Per parte mia, non ho mai gustato Timone in vita mia, né alcuna delle sue munificenze mi è mai giunta a segnarmi come suo amico; eppure protesto che, per il suo animo veramente nobile, l’illustre virtù e l’onorevole contegno, se la sua necessità si fosse servita di me avrei messo in dono la mia ricchezza e la metà migliore gli sarebbe tornata, tanto amo il suo cuore. Ma m’avvedo che gli uomini devono ormai imparare a fare a meno della pietà, ché il calcolo siede al di sopra della coscienza.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon’s Third Servant, with Sempronius, another of Timon’s friends
SEMPRONIUS	Must he needs trouble me in’t? Hmh! ’Bove all others? He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeemed from prison. All these Owes their estates unto him.
SERVANT	My lord, They have all been touched and found base metal, For they have all denied him.
SEMPRONIUS	How, have they denied him? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him, And does he send to me? Three? Hmhl It shows but little love or judgement in him. Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, Thrive, give him over; must I take th’ cure upon me? He’s much disgraced me in’t. I’m angry at him, That might have known my place. I see no sense for’t But his occasions might have wooed me first, For, in my conscience, I was the first man That e‘er received gift from him. And does he think so backwardly of me now That I’ll requite it last? No. So it may prove an argument of laughter To th’ rest, and I ’mongst lords be thought a fool. I’d rather than the worth of thrice the sum He’d sent to me first, but for my mind’s sake. I’d such a courage to do him good. But now return, And with their faint reply this answer join: Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.
(didascalia)	Exit
SERVANT	Excellent. Your lordship’s a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic—he crossed himself by’t, and I cannot think but in the end the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! Takes virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire; of such a nature is his politic love. This was my lord’s best hope. Now all are fled Save only the gods. Now his friends are dead. Doors that were ne’er acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year must be employed Now to guard sure their master; And this is all a liberal course allows: Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Terzo Servo di Timone, con Sempronio, un altro degli amici di Timone
SEMPRONIO	Deve proprio disturbare me in questo? Ehm! Più di tutti gli altri? Poteva provare col signor Lucio o con Lucullo; e ora anche Ventidio è ricco, lui che riscattò dalla prigione. Tutti costoro devono a lui i loro patrimoni.
SERVO	Mio signore, tutti sono stati saggiati e trovati metallo vile, ché tutti gli hanno rifiutato.
SEMPRONIO	Come, gli hanno rifiutato? Gli hanno rifiutato Ventidio e Lucullo, e manda a me? Tre? Ehm! Mostra ben poco amore o giudizio in lui. Devo essere io il suo ultimo rifugio? I suoi amici, come i medici, prosperano e lo abbandonano; devo prendermi io la cura? M’ha molto disonorato in ciò. Sono in collera con lui, che avrebbe dovuto conoscere il mio rango. Non ci vedo altro senso se non che le sue necessità avrebbero dovuto corteggiare prima me, ché, nella mia coscienza, io fui il primo uomo che mai ricevette dono da lui. E ora pensa di me così bassamente ch’io lo ricambi per ultimo? No. Così potrebbe diventare argomento di riso per gli altri, e io fra i signori esser tenuto per uno sciocco. Avrei preferito, più del valore di tre volte la somma, ch’egli avesse mandato prima da me, per amor del mio animo. Avevo tanto ardore di fargli del bene. Ma ora torna, e alla loro fiacca risposta unisci questa: chi sminuisce il mio onore non conoscerà la mia moneta.
(didascalia)	Esce
SERVO	Eccellente. Vostra signoria è un bel furfante. Il diavolo non sapeva quel che faceva quando fece l’uomo politico—così s’è rovinato da sé, e non posso pensare altro se non che alla fine le scelleratezze dell’uomo lo faranno apparire innocente. Con che bella arte questo signore si sforza d’apparire turpe! Prende modelli virtuosi per essere malvagio, come quelli che sotto un caldo e ardente zelo darebbero interi regni alle fiamme; di tale natura è il suo politico amore. Questa era la migliore speranza del mio signore. Ora tutti sono fuggiti tranne solo gli dèi. Ora i suoi amici sono morti. Porte che per molti anni munifici non conobbero mai i loro catenacci dovranno ora essere adoperate a custodire ben chiuso il loro padrone; ed ecco tutto quel che una condotta liberale concede: chi non sa serbare la ricchezza deve serbare la casa.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Varro’s two Servants, meeting others, all Servants of Timon’s creditors, to wait for his coming out. Then enter Servants of Lucius, Titus, and Hortensius
(didascalia)	VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT
(didascalia)	Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.
TITUS’ SERVANT	The like to you, kind Varro.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Lucius, what, do we meet together?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, and I think one business does command us all, For mine is money.
TITUS’ SERVANT	So is theirs and ours.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant of Philotus
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	And Sir Philotus too!
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Good day at once.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Welcome, good brother. What do you think the hour?
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Labouring for nine.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	So much?
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	Is not my lord seen yet?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Not yet.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	I wonder on’t; he was wont to shine at seven.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him. You must consider that a prodigal course Is like the sun‘s, But not, like his, recoverable. I fear ’Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon’s purse; that is, One may reach deep enough, and yet find little.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	I am of your fear for that.
TITUS’ SERVANT	I’ll show you how t’observe a strange event. Your lord sends now for money?
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Most true, he does.
TITUS’ SERVANT	And he wears jewels now of Timon’s gift, For which I wait for money.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	It is against my heart.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Mark how strange it shows. Timon in this should pay more than he owes, And e‘en as if your lord should wear rich jewels And send for money for ’em.
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	I’m weary of this charge, the gods can witness. I know my lord hath spent of Timon’s wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	Yes; mine’s three thousand crowns. What’s yours?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Five thousand, mine.
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	’is much deep, and it should seem by th’ sum Your master’s confidence was above mine, Else surely his had equalled.
(didascalia)	Enter Flaminius
TITUS’ SERVANT	One of Lord Timon’s men.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Flaminius! Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord 36 Ready to come forth?
FLAMINIUS	No, indeed he is not.
TITUS’ SERVANT	We attend his lordship. Pray signify so much.
FLAMINIUS	I need not tell Him that; he knows you are too diligent.
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, muffled in a cloak
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ha, is not that his steward muffled so? He goes away in a cloud. Call him, call him.
TITUS’ SERVANT	(to Flavius) Do you hear, sir?
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	(to Flavius) By your leave, sir.
FLAVIUS	What do ye ask of me, my friend?
TITUS’ SERVANT	We wait for certain money here, sir.
FLAVIUS	Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, ‘Twere sure enough. Why then preferred you not your sums and bills When your false masters ate of my lord’s meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, And take down th’int’est into their glutt’nous maws. You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up. Let me pass quietly. Believe’, my lord and I have made an end. I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Ay, but this answer will not serve.
FLAVIUS	If ‘twill not serve ’tis not so base as you, For you serve knaves.
(didascalia)	Exit
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	How? What does his cashiered worship mutter?
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	No matter what; he’s poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.
(didascalia)	Enter Servilius
TITUS’ SERVANT	O, here’s Servilius. Now we shall know some answer.
SERVILIUS	If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from’t; for, take’t of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him. He’s much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Many do keep their chambers are not sick, And if it be so far beyond his health Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts And make a clear way to the gods.
SERVILIUS	Good gods!
TITUS’ SERVANT	We cannot take this for an answer, sir.
FLAMINIUS	(Within) Servilius, helpl My lord, my lord!
(didascalia)	Enter Timon in a rage
TIMON	What, are my doors opposed against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my jail? The place which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Put in now, Titus.
TITUS’ SERVANT	My lord, here is my bill.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Here’s mine.
(didascalia)	HORTENSUS’ SERVANT And mine, my lord.
(didascalia)	VARRO’S FIRST and SECOND SERVANTS And ours, my lord.
PHILOTUS’ SERVANT	All our bills.
TIMON	Knock me down with ’em, cleave me to the girdle.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Alas, my lord.
TIMON	Cut my heart in sums. 90
TITUS’ SERVANT	Mine fifty talents.
TIMON	Tell out my blood.
LUCIUS’ SERVANT	Five thousand crowns, my lord.
TIMON	Five thousand drops pays that. What yours? And yours?
VARRO’S FIRST SERVANT	My lord—
VARRO’S SECOND SERVANT	My lord—
TIMON	Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you.
(didascalia)	Exit
HORTENSIUS’ SERVANT	Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money. These debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes ’em.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i due Servi di Varrone, incontrandone altri, tutti Servi dei creditori di Timone, per attendere che egli esca. Entrano poi i Servi di Lucio, di Tito e di Ortensio
(didascalia)	PRIMO SERVO DI VARRONE
(didascalia)	Ben trovati; buon giorno, Tito e Ortensio.
SERVO DI TITO	Altrettanto a voi, buon Varrone.
SERVO DI ORTENSIO	Lucio, come, ci troviamo tutti insieme?
SERVO DI LUCIO	Sì, e credo che un solo affare ci comandi tutti, ché il mio è denaro.
SERVO DI TITO	Così il loro e il nostro.
(didascalia)	Entra un Servo di Filoto
SERVO DI LUCIO	E anche messer Filoto!
SERVO DI FILOTO	Buon giorno a tutti insieme.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Benvenuto, buon fratello. Che ora credi che sia?
SERVO DI FILOTO	Va faticando verso le nove.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Già tanto?
SERVO DI FILOTO	Non s’è ancora visto il mio signore?
SERVO DI LUCIO	Non ancora.
SERVO DI FILOTO	Me ne meraviglio; soleva risplendere alle sette.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Sì, ma i giorni gli si sono fatti più corti. Devi considerare che un corso prodigo è come quello del sole, ma non, come il suo, ricuperabile. Temo che sia il più fondo inverno nella borsa del signor Timone; cioè, uno può frugare abbastanza a fondo, e trovar pur poco.
SERVO DI FILOTO	Ho il tuo stesso timore su ciò.
SERVO DI TITO	Ti mostrerò come osservare uno strano caso. Il tuo signore manda ora a chiedere denaro?
SERVO DI ORTENSIO	Verissimo, lo fa.
SERVO DI TITO	E porta ora gioielli avuti in dono da Timone, per i quali io attendo denaro.
SERVO DI ORTENSIO	È contro il mio cuore.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Nota com’è strana la cosa. Timone in questo dovrebbe pagare più di quanto deve, ed è proprio come se il tuo signore portasse ricchi gioielli e mandasse a chiedere denaro per essi.
SERVO DI ORTENSIO	Sono stanco di quest’incarico, gli dèi ne son testimoni. So che il mio signore ha speso della ricchezza di Timone, e ora l’ingratitudine rende ciò peggiore d’un furto.
PRIMO SERVO DI VARRONE	Sì; il mio è di tremila corone. Qual è il tuo?
SERVO DI LUCIO	Cinquemila, il mio.
PRIMO SERVO DI VARRONE	È molto più alto, e parrebbe dalla somma che la fiducia del tuo padrone fosse superiore alla mia, altrimenti certo la sua l’avrebbe eguagliata.
(didascalia)	Entra Flaminio
SERVO DI TITO	Uno degli uomini del signor Timone.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Flaminio! Signore, una parola. Di grazia, il mio signore è 36 pronto a venir fuori?
FLAMINIO	No, davvero non lo è.
SERVO DI TITO	Attendiamo sua signoria. Di grazia, fateglielo sapere.
FLAMINIO	Non ho bisogno di dirglielo; egli sa che siete anche troppo diligenti.
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio, avvolto in un mantello
SERVO DI LUCIO	Ah, non è il suo intendente così avvolto? Se ne va in una nuvola. Chiamatelo, chiamatelo.
SERVO DI TITO	(a Flavio) Udite, signore?
SECONDO SERVO DI VARRONE	(a Flavio) Con vostra licenza, signore.
FLAVIO	Che chiedete da me, amico mio?
SERVO DI TITO	Attendiamo qui certo denaro, signore.
FLAVIO	Sì, se il denaro fosse così certo come il vostro attendere, sarebbe abbastanza sicuro. Perché allora non presentaste le vostre somme e le vostre fatture quando i vostri falsi padroni mangiavano le vivande del mio signore? Allora sapevano sorridere e adulare i suoi debiti, e ingoiare gli interessi nelle loro gole ghiotte. Fate torto solo a voi stessi a irritarmi. Lasciatemi passare in pace. Credetemi, il mio signore e io abbiamo finito. Io non ho più nulla da contare, né lui da spendere.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Sì, ma questa risposta non servirà.
FLAVIO	Se non serve, non è tanto vile quanto voi, ché voi servite furfanti.
(didascalia)	Esce
PRIMO SERVO DI VARRONE	Come? Che borbotta sua signoria licenziata?
SECONDO SERVO DI VARRONE	Non importa che cosa; è povero, e questa è vendetta a sufficienza. Chi può parlare più liberamente di chi non ha casa in cui mettere il capo? Costui può ben inveire contro i grandi edifici.
(didascalia)	Entra Servilio
SERVO DI TITO	Oh, ecco Servilio. Ora avremo qualche risposta.
SERVILIO	Se potessi supplicarvi, signori, di tornare a qualche altra ora, ne ricaverei molto; ché, prendetelo sulla mia anima, il mio signore pende straordinariamente verso lo sconforto. Il suo umore sereno l’ha abbandonato. È molto malandato in salute, e tiene la camera.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Molti tengono la camera e non sono malati, e se è così al di là della sua salute mi pare che dovrebbe pagare i suoi debiti tanto più presto e farsi una strada libera verso gli dèi.
SERVILIO	Buoni dèi!
SERVO DI TITO	Non possiamo prendere questa per risposta, signore.
FLAMINIO	(Dall’interno) Servilio, aiuto! Mio signore, mio signore!
(didascalia)	Entra Timone infuriato
TIMONE	Come, le mie porte si oppongono al mio passaggio? Sono sempre stato libero, e deve la mia casa essere il mio nemico che mi trattiene, la mia prigione? Il luogo dove ho banchettato, mi mostra ora, come tutto il genere umano, un cuore di ferro?
SERVO DI LUCIO	Fatti avanti ora, Tito.
SERVO DI TITO	Mio signore, ecco la mia fattura.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Ecco la mia.
(didascalia)	SERVO DI ORTENSIO E la mia, mio signore.
(didascalia)	PRIMO e SECONDO SERVO DI VARRONE E le nostre, mio signore.
SERVO DI FILOTO	Tutte le nostre fatture.
TIMONE	Abbattetemi con esse, spaccatemi fino alla cintura.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Ahimè, mio signore.
TIMONE	Tagliatemi il cuore in somme. 90
SERVO DI TITO	Il mio, cinquanta talenti.
TIMONE	Contate il mio sangue.
SERVO DI LUCIO	Cinquemila corone, mio signore.
TIMONE	Cinquemila gocce pagano quello. Il vostro? E il vostro?
PRIMO SERVO DI VARRONE	Mio signore—
SECONDO SERVO DI VARRONE	Mio signore—
TIMONE	Sbranatemi, prendetemi, e gli dèi vi piombino addosso.
(didascalia)	Esce
SERVO DI ORTENSIO	In fede mia, m’accorgo che i nostri padroni possono gettare i berretti dietro al loro denaro. Questi debiti si possono ben chiamare disperati, ché li deve un pazzo.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon and Flavius
TIMON	They have e’en put my breath from me, the slaves. Creditors? Devils!
FLAVIUS	My dear lord—
TIMON	What if it should be so?
FLAVIUS	My lord—
TIMON	I’ll have it so. My steward!
FLAVIUS	Here, my lord.
TIMON	So fitly? Go bid all my friends again: Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius—all luxors, all. I’ll once more feast the rascals.
FLAVIUS	O my lord, You only speak from your distracted soul. There is not so much left to furnish out A moderate table.
TIMON	Be it not in thy care. Go, I charge thee, invite them all. Let in the tide Of knaves once more. My cook and I’ll provide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Timone e Flavio
TIMONE	M’hanno proprio tolto il respiro, quegli schiavi. Creditori? Demoni!
FLAVIO	Mio caro signore—
TIMONE	E se fosse così?
FLAVIO	Mio signore—
TIMONE	Voglio che sia così. Intendente mio!
FLAVIO	Eccomi, mio signore.
TIMONE	Così a proposito? Va’ a invitare di nuovo tutti i miei amici: Lucio, Lucullo e Sempronio—tutti crapuloni, tutti. Voglio banchettare ancora una volta con quei furfanti.
FLAVIO	O mio signore, parlate soltanto dalla vostra anima sconvolta. Non resta tanto da imbandire una mensa modesta.
TIMONE	Non sia questa la tua cura. Va’, te lo comando, invitali tutti. Lascia entrare ancora una volta la marea dei furfanti. Il mio cuoco e io provvederemo.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter three Senators at one door
FIRST SENATOR	My lords, you have my voice to’t. The fault’s bloody. ’Tis necessary he should die. Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
SECOND SENATOR	Most true; the law shall bruise ’im.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades at another door, with attendants
ALCIBIADES	Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!
FIRST SENATOR	Now, captain.
ALCIBIADES	I am an humble suitor to your virtues; For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stepped into the law, which is past depth To those that without heed do plunge into’t. He is a man, setting his feat aside, Of comely virtues; Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice— An honour in him which buys out his fault— But with a noble fury and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touched to death, He did oppose his foe; And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave his anger, ere ’twas spent, As if he had but proved an argument.
FIRST SENATOR	You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair. Your words have took such pains as if they laboured To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling Upon the head of valour—which indeed Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born. He’s truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs his outsides To wear them like his raiment carelessly, And ne‘er prefer his injuries to his heart To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly ’tis to hazard life for ill!
ALCIBIADES	My lord—
FIRST SENATOR	You cannot make gross sins look clear. To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
ALCIBIADES	My lords, then, under favour, pardon me If I speak like a captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, And not endure all threats, sleep upon‘t, And let the foes quietly cut their throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? Why then, women are more valiant That stay at home if bearing carry it, And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, As you are great, be pitifully good. Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust, But in defence, by mercy, ’tis most just. To be in anger is impiety, But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this.
SECOND SENATOR	You breathe in vain.
ALCIBIADES	In vain? His service done at Lacedaemon and Byzantium Were a sufficient briber for his life.
FIRST SENATOR	What’s that?
ALCIBIADES	Why, I say, my lords, he’s done fair service, And slain in fight many of your enemies. How full of valour did he bear himself In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!
SECOND SENATOR	He has made too much plenty with ‘em. He’s a sworn rioter; he has a sin That often drowns him and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no foes, that were enough To overcome him. In that beastly fury He has been known to commit outrages And cherish factions. ’Tis inferred to us His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
FIRST SENATOR	He dies.
ALCIBIADES	Hard fate! He might have died in war. My lords, if not for any parts in him— Though his right arm might purchase his own time And be in debt to none—yet more to move you, Take my deserts to his and join ’em both. And for I know Your reverend ages love security, I’ll pawn my victories, all my honour to you Upon his good returns. If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receive’t in valiant gore, For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
FIRST SENATOR	We are for law; he dies. Urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
ALCIBIADES	Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, I do beseech you know me.
SECOND SENATOR	How?
ALCIBIADES	Call me to your remembrances.
THIRD SENATOR	What?
ALCIBIADES	I cannot think but your age has forgot me. It could not else be I should prove so base To sue and be denied such common grace. My wounds ache at you.
FIRST SENATOR	Do you dare our anger? ’Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for ever.
ALCIBIADES	Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish usury That makes the senate ugly.
FIRST SENATOR	If after two days’ shine Athens contain thee, attend our weightier judgement; And, not to swell your spirit, he shall be Executed presently.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Senators and attendants
ALCIBIADES	Now the gods keep you old enough that you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you! I’m worse than mad. I have kept back their foes While they have told their money and let out Their coin upon large interest—I myself, Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? Is this the balsam that the usuring senate Pours into captains’ wounds? Banishment! It comes not ill; I hate not to be banished. It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens. I’ll cheer up My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. ’Tis honour with most lands to be at odds. Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano tre Senatori da una porta
PRIMO SENATORE	Miei signori, avete il mio voto. La colpa è sanguinosa. È necessario che muoia. Nulla incoraggia il peccato quanto la clemenza.
SECONDO SENATORE	Verissimo; la legge lo schiaccerà.
(didascalia)	Entra Alcibiade da un’altra porta, con seguito
ALCIBIADE	Onore, salute e compassione al senato!
PRIMO SENATORE	Ebbene, capitano.
ALCIBIADE	Sono un umile supplice delle vostre virtù; ché la pietà è la virtù della legge, e nessuno se non i tiranni l’usa crudelmente. Piace al tempo e alla fortuna di gravare pesantemente sopra un mio amico, il quale in caldo sangue è incorso nella legge, che è di profondità smisurata per quelli che senza cautela vi si tuffano. Egli è uomo, messo da parte il suo atto, di belle virtù; né macchiò il fatto di viltà— un onore in lui che riscatta la sua colpa— ma con nobile furore e franco spirito, vedendo la propria reputazione ferita a morte, affrontò il suo nemico; e con passione così pacata e composta governò la sua collera, prima che si sfogasse, come se non avesse fatto che sostenere un ragionamento.
PRIMO SENATORE	Sostenete un troppo arduo paradosso, sforzandovi di far apparire bella una brutta azione. Le vostre parole si son date tanta pena come se s’affaticassero a mettere in forma l’omicidio, e a porre la rissa sul capo del valore—il quale in verità è valore mal generato, e venne al mondo quando sette e fazioni erano appena nate. Veramente valoroso è colui che sa saggiamente sopportare il peggio che uomo possa proferire, e fare dei propri torti la sua veste esteriore, per portarli con noncuranza come un abito, e mai accostare le offese al cuore per metterlo in pericolo. Se i torti sono mali e ci costringono a uccidere, che follia è rischiare la vita per il male!
ALCIBIADE	Mio signore—
PRIMO SENATORE	Non potete far apparire limpidi i peccati grossolani. Vendicarsi non è valore, ma sopportare.
ALCIBIADE	Miei signori, allora, con vostra licenza, perdonatemi se parlo da capitano. Perché gli uomini insensati s’espongono alla battaglia, e non sopportano ogni minaccia, e non ci dormono sopra, e non lasciano che i nemici tranquillamente taglino loro la gola senza opporsi? Se c’è tanto valore nel sopportare, che facciamo noi in campo? Ebbene allora, più valorose sono le donne che restano a casa, se il sopportare è ciò che conta, e l’asino più capitano del leone, e il malfattore carico di ferri più savio del giudice, se la saggezza sta nel patire. O miei signori, come siete grandi, siate pietosamente buoni. Chi non sa condannare l’avventatezza a sangue freddo? Uccidere, lo concedo, è la raffica estrema del peccato, ma in difesa, per misericordia, è cosa giustissima. Essere in collera è empietà, ma chi è uomo che non s’adiri? Pesate il delitto soltanto con questo.
SECONDO SENATORE	Sprecate fiato.
ALCIBIADE	Sprecato? I servigi da lui resi a Lacedemone e a Bisanzio basterebbero a riscattare la sua vita.
PRIMO SENATORE	Che c’entra questo?
ALCIBIADE	Dico, miei signori, ch’egli ha reso bei servigi, e ucciso in battaglia molti dei vostri nemici. Con quanto valore si comportò nell’ultimo scontro, e quante ferite inflisse!
SECONDO SENATORE	Ne ha fatta anche troppa abbondanza. È uno sfrenato giurato; ha un vizio che spesso lo annega e gli fa prigioniero il valore. Se non ci fossero nemici, quello basterebbe a vincerlo. In quel furore bestiale è noto che ha commesso oltraggi e alimentato fazioni. Ci vien riferito che i suoi giorni sono turpi e il suo bere pericoloso.
PRIMO SENATORE	Muoia.
ALCIBIADE	Dura sorte! Poteva morire in guerra. Miei signori, se non per alcuna sua qualità— benché il suo braccio destro potrebbe comprarsi il proprio tempo e non esser debitore a nessuno—pure, per commuovervi di più, prendete i miei meriti insieme ai suoi e uniteli entrambi. E poiché so che le vostre venerande età amano la garanzia, vi darò in pegno le mie vittorie, tutto il mio onore sul suo buon ravvedimento. Se per questo delitto egli deve la vita alla legge, ebbene, la riceva la guerra in valoroso sangue, ché la legge è severa, e la guerra non è nulla di più.
PRIMO SENATORE	Noi stiamo per la legge; egli muore. Non insistete oltre, a costo del colmo del nostro sdegno. Amico o fratello, perde il proprio sangue chi versa quello d’un altro.
ALCIBIADE	Dev’essere così? Non dev’essere. Miei signori, vi supplico, riconoscetemi.
SECONDO SENATORE	Come?
ALCIBIADE	Richiamatemi alla vostra memoria.
TERZO SENATORE	Che cosa?
ALCIBIADE	Non posso pensare altro se non che la vostra età m’abbia dimenticato. Non potrebbe altrimenti essere ch’io mi mostrassi tanto vile da chiedere e vedermi negare una grazia così comune. Le mie ferite mi dolgono per causa vostra.
PRIMO SENATORE	Osate sfidare la nostra collera? È in poche parole, ma ampia negli effetti: ti bandiamo per sempre.
ALCIBIADE	Bandire me? Bandite il vostro rimbambimento, bandite l’usura che rende turpe il senato.
PRIMO SENATORE	Se dopo due giorni di sole Atene ti conterrà ancora, aspettati un giudizio più grave; e, per non gonfiare il vostro spirito, egli sarà giustiziato immediatamente.
(didascalia)	Escono i Senatori e il seguito
ALCIBIADE	Ora gli dèi vi conservino tanto vecchi che possiate vivere solo in ossa, sì che nessuno voglia guardarvi! Sono peggio che pazzo. Io ho tenuto lontani i loro nemici mentre essi contavano il loro denaro e prestavano la loro moneta a grossi interessi—io stesso, ricco soltanto di larghe ferite. Tutto questo per questo? È questo il balsamo che il senato usuraio versa nelle ferite dei capitani? Bando! Non giunge male; non mi spiace essere bandito. È una causa degna del mio livore e del mio furore, ch’io possa colpire Atene. Rincuorerò le mie truppe scontente, e mi metterò a conquistare cuori. È onore essere in urto con la maggior parte dei paesi. I soldati dovrebbero tollerare i torti quanto poco li tollerano gli dèi.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter divers of Timon’s friends, amongst them Lucullus, Lucius, Sempronius, and other Lords and Senators, at several doors
FIRST LORD	The good time of day to you, sir.
SECOND LORD	I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day.
FIRST LORD	Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
SECOND LORD	It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.
FIRST LORD	I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off, but he hath conjured me beyond them, and I must needs appear.
SECOND LORD	In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry when he sent to borrow of me that my provision was out.
FIRST LORD	I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.
SECOND LORD	Every man hears so. What would he have borrowed of you?
FIRST LORD	A thousand pieces.
SECOND LORD	A thousand pieces?
FIRST LORD	What of you?
SECOND LORD	He sent to me, sir—
(didascalia)	Loud music. Enter Timon and attendants
SECOND LORD	Here he comes.
TIMON	With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you?
FIRST LORD	Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
SECOND LORD	The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.
TIMON	(aside) Nor more willingly leaves winter, such summer birds are men.—Genttemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay. Feast your ears with the music a while, if they will fare so harshly o’th’ trumpets’ sound; we shall to’t presently.
FIRST LORD	I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger.
TIMON	O sir, let it not trouble you.
SECOND LORD	My noble lord—
TIMON	Ah, my good friend, what cheer?
(didascalia)	A table and stools are brought in
SECOND LORD	My most honourable lord, I am e’en sick of shame that when your lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.
TIMON	Think not on’t, sir.
SECOND LORD	If you had sent but two hours before—
TIMON	Let it not cumber your better remembrance.—Come, bring in all together.
(didascalia)	Enter Servants with covered dishes
SECOND LORD	All covered dishes.
FIRST LORD	Royal cheer, I warrant you.
THIRD LORD	Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.
FIRST LORD	How do you? What’s the news?
THIRD LORD	Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?
FIRST	and SECOND LORDS Alcibiades banished?
THIRD LORD	’Tis so, be sure of it.
FIRST LORD	How, how?
SECOND LORD	I pray you, upon what?
TIMON	My worthy friends, will you draw near?
THIRD LORD	I’ll tell you more anon. Here’s a noble feast toward.
SECOND LORD	This is the old man still.
THIRD LORD	Will’t hold, will’t hold?
SECOND LORD	It does; but time will—and so—
THIRD LORD	I do conceive. 64
TIMON	Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. They sit You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts make yourselves praised; but reserve still to give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough that one need not lend to another; for were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest of your foes, O gods—the senators of Athens, together with the common tag of people—what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them; and to nothing are they welcome.—Uncover, dogs, and lap.
(didascalia)	The dishes are uncovered, and seen to be full of steaming water and stones
SOME LORDS	What does his lordship mean?
OTHER LORDS	I know not.
TIMON	May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends. Smoke and lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last, Who, stuck and spangled with your flattery, Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villainy.
(didascalia)	He throws water in their faces
TIMON	Live loathed and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies, Cap-and-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! Of man and beast the infinite malady Crust you quite o’er.
(didascalia)	A Lord is going
TIMON	What, dost thou go? Soft, take thy physic first. Thou too, and thou.
(didascalia)	He beats them
TIMON	Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lords, leaving caps and gowns
TIMON	What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest. Burn house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be Of Timon man and all humanity!
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter the Senators and other Lords
FIRST LORD	How now, my lords?
SECOND LORD	Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?
THIRD LORD	Push! Did you see my cap?
FOURTH LORD	I have lost my gown.
FIRST LORD	He’s but a mad lord, and naught but humours sways him. He gave me a jewel th’other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see my jewel?
(didascalia)	THIRD LORD Did you see my cap?
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD
FIRST LORD	Here ’tis.
FOURTH LORD	Here lies my gown.
FIRST LORD	Let’s make no stay.
SECOND LORD	Lord Timon’s mad.
THIRD LORD	I feel’t upon my bones.
FOURTH LORD	One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano diversi amici di Timone, fra loro Lucullo, Lucio, Sempronio, e altri Signori e Senatori, da diverse porte
PRIMO SIGNORE	Il buon giorno a voi, signore.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Ve lo auguro anch’io. Credo che quest’onorevole signore l’altro giorno non facesse che metterci alla prova.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Su questo si affaticavano i miei pensieri quando c’incontrammo. Spero che non sia in così basso stato come volle far apparire nella prova dei suoi vari amici.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Non dovrebbe esserlo, a persuasione del suo nuovo banchetto.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Credo di sì. M’ha mandato un caldo invito, che molte mie prossime occupazioni mi spingevano a declinare, ma egli m’ha scongiurato al di là di esse, e devo pur comparire.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Allo stesso modo ero io debitore ai miei affari pressanti, ma non volle udire la mia scusa. Mi dispiace che, quando mandò a chiedermi in prestito, la mia provvista fosse esaurita.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Anch’io soffro di quel dolore, ora che comprendo come vanno le cose.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Ognuno ne sente parlare. Quanto avrebbe voluto in prestito da voi?
PRIMO SIGNORE	Mille pezzi.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Mille pezzi?
PRIMO SIGNORE	E da voi?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Mandò da me, signore—
(didascalia)	Musica alta. Entrano Timone e il seguito
SECONDO SIGNORE	Eccolo che viene.
TIMONE	Con tutto il cuore, gentiluomini entrambi; e come state?
PRIMO SIGNORE	Sempre al meglio, udendo bene di vostra signoria.
SECONDO SIGNORE	La rondine non segue l’estate più volentieri di quanto noi seguiamo vostra signoria.
TIMONE	(a parte) Né più volentieri lascia l’inverno: tali uccelli d’estate sono gli uomini.—Gentiluomini, il nostro pranzo non ricompenserà questa lunga attesa. Banchettate un poco le vostre orecchie con la musica, se vorranno cibarsi così aspramente del suono delle trombe; ci metteremo a tavola fra poco.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Spero che vostra signoria non serbi rancore perché vi rimandai un messaggero a mani vuote.
TIMONE	Oh signore, non ve ne date pensiero.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Mio nobile signore—
TIMONE	Ah, mio buon amico, come va?
(didascalia)	Vengono portati una tavola e degli sgabelli
SECONDO SIGNORE	Mio onoratissimo signore, sono proprio malato di vergogna che, quando vostra signoria mandò da me l’altro giorno, io fossi un mendicante così sfortunato.
TIMONE	Non pensateci, signore.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Se solo aveste mandato due ore prima—
TIMONE	Non ingombri la vostra migliore memoria.—Su, portate tutto insieme.
(didascalia)	Entrano i Servi con piatti coperti
SECONDO SIGNORE	Tutti piatti coperti.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Cibo regale, ve lo garantisco.
TERZO SIGNORE	Non dubitatene, se il denaro e la stagione possono darlo.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Come state? Che notizie ci sono?
TERZO SIGNORE	Alcibiade è bandito. L’avete saputo?
PRIMO	e SECONDO SIGNORE Alcibiade bandito?
TERZO SIGNORE	È così, statene certi.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Come, come?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Di grazia, per che cosa?
TIMONE	Miei degni amici, volete accostarvi?
TERZO SIGNORE	Ve ne dirò di più fra poco. Ecco un nobile banchetto in arrivo.
SECONDO SIGNORE	È sempre l’uomo di prima.
TERZO SIGNORE	Durerà, durerà?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Dura; ma il tempo farà—e così—
TERZO SIGNORE	Intendo. 64
TIMONE	Ognuno al suo sgabello con lo stesso slancio con cui andrebbe alle labbra della sua amante. Il vostro cibo sarà uguale in ogni posto. Non ne fate un banchetto di città, da lasciar raffreddare le vivande prima d’accordarci sul primo posto. Sedete, sedete. Gli dèi esigono i nostri ringraziamenti. Siedono Voi grandi benefattori, spargete di gratitudine la nostra compagnia. Per i vostri doni fatevi lodare; ma serbate sempre da dare, perché le vostre divinità non siano disprezzate. Prestate a ciascuno abbastanza perché l’uno non debba prestare all’altro; ché se le vostre divinità dovessero chiedere in prestito agli uomini, gli uomini abbandonerebbero gli dèi. Fate che le vivande siano amate più di chi le dona. Nessuna adunanza di venti sia senza una ventina di furfanti. Se dodici donne siedono a tavola, che una dozzina di loro sia quel che è. Il resto dei vostri nemici, o dèi—i senatori d’Atene, insieme alla comune marmaglia del popolo—ciò che in loro è guasto, voi dèi, rendetelo adatto alla distruzione. Quanto a questi miei amici presenti, come essi non sono nulla per me, così in nulla benediteli; e a nulla siano i benvenuti.—Scoprite, cani, e lappate.
(didascalia)	I piatti vengono scoperti, e si vedono pieni d’acqua fumante e di pietre
ALCUNI SIGNORI	Che intende sua signoria?
ALTRI SIGNORI	Non so.
TIMONE	Possiate non vedere mai un banchetto migliore, voi manipolo d’amici di bocca. Fumo e acqua tiepida è la vostra perfezione. Questo è l’ultimo di Timone, il quale, incrostato e infiorato della vostra adulazione, se la lava via, e vi spruzza in faccia la vostra fetida infamia.
(didascalia)	Getta loro l’acqua in faccia
TIMONE	Vivete odiati e a lungo, sorridentissimi, lisci, detestati parassiti, cortesi distruttori, affabili lupi, miti orsi, voi sciocchi della fortuna, amici da tavola, mosche del tempo, schiavi da berretto e ginocchio, vapori, pupazzi da orologio! D’uomo e di bestia l’infinito morbo vi ricopra tutti d’una crosta.
(didascalia)	Un Signore se ne va
TIMONE	Come, te ne vai? Piano, prendi prima la tua medicina. Anche tu, e tu.
(didascalia)	Li percuote
TIMONE	Fermo, ti presterò denaro, non ne prenderò a prestito.
(didascalia)	Escono i Signori, lasciando berretti e toghe
TIMONE	Come, tutti in fuga? D’ora innanzi non vi sia banchetto in cui un furfante non sia ospite gradito. Brucia, casa! Sprofonda, Atene! D’ora innanzi siano odiati da Timone l’uomo e tutta l’umanità!
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano i Senatori e gli altri Signori
PRIMO SIGNORE	Ebbene, miei signori?
SECONDO SIGNORE	Conoscete la qualità del furore del signor Timone?
TERZO SIGNORE	Puah! Avete visto il mio berretto?
QUARTO SIGNORE	Ho perso la mia toga.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Non è che un signore pazzo, e nulla se non gli umori lo governa. Mi diede un gioiello l’altro giorno, e ora me l’ha battuto fuori dal cappello. Avete visto il mio gioiello?
(didascalia)	TERZO SIGNORE Avete visto il mio berretto?
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE
PRIMO SIGNORE	Eccolo qui.
QUARTO SIGNORE	Qui giace la mia toga.
PRIMO SIGNORE	Non indugiamo.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Il signor Timone è pazzo.
TERZO SIGNORE	Lo sento sulle mie ossa.
QUARTO SIGNORE	Un giorno ci dà diamanti, il giorno dopo pietre.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon
TIMON	Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench And minister in their steads! To general filths Convert o‘th’ instant, green virginity! Do’t in your parents’ eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast! Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters’ throats. Bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed! Thy mistress is o’th’ brothel. Son of sixteen, Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire; With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And let confusion live! Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners! Lust and liberty, Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, That ‘gainst the stream of virtue they may strive And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains, Sow all th’Athenian bosoms, and their crop Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison!
(didascalia)	He tears off his clothes
TIMON	Nothing I’ll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town; Take thou that too, with multiplying bans. Timon will to the woods, where he shall find Th‘unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound—hear me you good gods all— Th’Athenians, both within and out that wall; And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low. Amen.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Timone
TIMONE	Lascia ch’io mi volga a guardarti. O tu, muro che cingi quei lupi, sprofonda nella terra, e non difendere Atene! Matrone, fatevi incontinenti! Manchi l’obbedienza nei figli! Schiavi e sciocchi, strappate dal seggio il grave senato rugoso e governate in loro vece! In lordure comuni convertitevi all’istante, verde verginità! Fatelo sotto gli occhi dei vostri genitori. Falliti, tenete duro! Piuttosto che restituire, fuori i coltelli, e tagliate la gola a chi vi diede fiducia. Servi legati, rubate! Ladri dalla mano larga sono i vostri gravi padroni, e saccheggiano per legge. Ancella, al letto del tuo padrone! La tua padrona è al bordello. Figlio di sedici anni, strappa la gruccia imbottita al tuo vecchio padre zoppo; e con quella fagli saltare le cervella! Pietà e timore, religione verso gli dèi, pace, giustizia, verità, rispetto domestico, riposo della notte, e buon vicinato, istruzione, costumi, misteri e mestieri, gradi, osservanze, usanze e leggi, degenerate nei vostri contrari che tutto confondono, e viva la confusione! Pesti che toccate agli uomini, ammucchiate le vostre potenti e infettive febbri su Atene, matura per il colpo! Tu, fredda sciatica, storpia i nostri senatori, sì che le loro membra zoppichino come zoppicano i loro costumi! Lussuria e licenza, insinuatevi nelle menti e nei midolli della nostra gioventù, sì che contro la corrente della virtù essa si sforzi e s’anneghi nella dissolutezza! Pruriti e pustole, seminate tutti i petti ateniesi, e il loro raccolto sia lebbra universale! Il fiato infetti il fiato, sì che il loro consorzio, come la loro amicizia, sia puro e semplice veleno!
(didascalia)	Si strappa di dosso le vesti
TIMONE	Nulla porterò via da te se non la nudità, città detestabile; prenditi anche quella, con moltiplicate maledizioni. Timone andrà ai boschi, dove troverà la belva più crudele più benigna del genere umano. Gli dèi confondano—uditemi, voi tutti buoni dèi— gli Ateniesi, tanto dentro quanto fuori di quel muro; e concedano che, come Timone cresce, cresca il suo odio verso tutta la razza umana, alti e bassi. Amen.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants
FIRST SERVANT	Hear you, master steward, where’s our master? Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?
FLAVIUS	Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded: by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you.
FIRST SERVANT	Such a house broke, So noble a master fall’n? All gone, and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm And go along with him?
SECOND SERVANT	As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away, leave their false vows with him Like empty purses picked; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunned poverty, Walks like contempt alone.
(didascalia)	Enter other Servants
SECOND SERVANT	More of our fellows.
FLAVIUS	All broken implements of a ruined house.
THIRD SERVANT	Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery. That see I by our faces. We are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our barque, And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck Hearing the surges’ threat. We must all part Into this sea of air.
FLAVIUS	Good fellows all, The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you. Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake Let’s yet be fellows. Let’s shake our heads and say, As ‘twere a knell unto our master’s fortunes, ’We have seen better days.’ He gives them money Let each take some. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more. Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. They embrace, and the Servants part several ways O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted like his varnished friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood When man’s worst sin is he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. My dearest lord, blessed to be most accursed, Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat Of monstrous friends; Nor has he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it. I’ll follow and enquire him out. I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will. Whilst I have gold I’ll be his steward still.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio, con due o tre Servi
PRIMO SERVO	Udite, messer intendente, dov’è il nostro padrone? Siamo rovinati, licenziati, non resta più nulla?
FLAVIO	Ahimè, compagni miei, che dovrei dirvi? Sia messo agli atti: per gli dèi giusti, io sono povero quanto voi.
PRIMO SERVO	Una tal casa rovinata, un padrone così nobile caduto? Tutti spariti, e non un amico che prenda per il braccio la sua fortuna e vada con lui?
SECONDO SERVO	Come noi volgiamo le spalle al compagno gettato nella sua tomba, così i suoi intimi, alle sue fortune sepolte, svicolano via tutti, gli lasciano i loro falsi voti come borse vuote e svaligiate; e il suo povero io, mendicante votato all’aria aperta, con la sua malattia della povertà fuggita da tutti, cammina solo come il disprezzo.
(didascalia)	Entrano altri Servi
SECONDO SERVO	Altri dei nostri compagni.
FLAVIO	Tutti strumenti rotti d’una casa in rovina.
TERZO SERVO	Eppure i nostri cuori portano la livrea di Timone. Lo vedo dai nostri volti. Siamo compagni ancora, servendo del pari nel dolore. La nostra barca fa acqua, e noi, poveri marinai, stiamo sul ponte che muore udendo la minaccia dei flutti. Dobbiamo tutti separarci in questo mare d’aria.
FLAVIO	Buoni compagni tutti, l’ultimo della mia ricchezza lo dividerò fra voi. Dovunque c’incontreremo, per amore di Timone siamo ancora compagni. Scuotiamo il capo e diciamo, quasi fosse un rintocco per le fortune del nostro padrone, ‘Abbiamo visto giorni migliori.’ Dà loro del denaro Ciascuno ne prenda un poco. Su, tendete tutti le mani. Non una parola di più. Così ci separiamo ricchi di dolore, separandoci poveri. S’abbracciano, e i Servi si dividono per varie strade Oh, la feroce miseria che la gloria ci porta! Chi non vorrebbe essere esente dalla ricchezza, poiché i beni conducono alla miseria e al disprezzo? Chi vorrebbe essere così beffato dalla gloria, o vivere solo in un sogno d’amicizia, avere il suo fasto e tutto ciò che compone il rango soltanto dipinto, come i suoi amici verniciati? Povero onesto signore, abbassato dal proprio cuore, rovinato dalla bontà! Strano, insolito sangue quando il peggior peccato dell’uomo è fare troppo bene! Chi oserà allora essere di nuovo generoso neppure a metà? Ché la munificenza, che fa gli dèi, sempre rovina gli uomini. Carissimo mio signore, benedetto per essere maledettissimo, ricco solo per essere misero, le tue grandi fortune sono divenute le tue principali afflizioni. Ahimè, buon signore! S’è scagliato con furore via da questa ingrata sede d’amici mostruosi; né ha con sé di che sostentare la vita, o ciò che possa procurarla. Lo seguirò e mi metterò a cercarlo. Servirò sempre il suo animo con la mia miglior volontà. Finché avrò oro sarò ancora il suo intendente.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Timon from his cave in the woods, half naked, and with a spade
TIMON	O blessèd breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb Infect the air. Twinned brothers of one womb, Whose procreation, residence, and birth Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes, The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature, To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune But by contempt of nature. It is the pasture lards the brother’s sides, The want that makes him lean. Raise me this beggar and demit that lord, The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, The beggar native honour. 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 grece of fortune Is smoothed by that below. The learnèd pate Ducks to the golden fool. All’s obliquy; There’s nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred All feasts, societies, and throngs of men. His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains. Destruction fang mankind. Earth, yield me roots. He digs Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison. He finds gold What is here? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I am no idle votarist: Roots, you clear heavens. Thus much of this will make Black white, foul fair, wrong right, Base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! Why this, what, this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads. This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th’accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation With senators on the bench. This is it That makes the wappered widow wed again. She whom the spittle house and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To th’ April day again. Come, damned earth, Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds Among the rout of nations; I will make thee Do thy right nature. March afar off Ha, a drum! Thou’rt quick; But yet I’ll bury thee. He buries gold Thou’lt go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. He keeps some gold Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
(didascalia)	Enter Alcibiades, with soldiers playing drum and
TIMON	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 unlearned 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 promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost not 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 blessèd time.
TIMON	As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA	Is this th’Athenian minion, whom the world Voiced so regardfully?
SIMON	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-cheeked youth To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA	Hang thee, monster!
ALCIBIADES	Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drowned 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 grieved 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	Warr‘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 conquered.
ALCIBIADES	Why me, Timon?
TIMON	That by killing of villains Thou wast born to conquer my country. Put up thy gold. He gives Alcibiades gold Go on; here’s gold; go on. Be as a planetary plague when Jove Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison In the sick air. Let not thy sword skip one. Pity not honoured age for his white beard; He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron; It is her habit only that is honest, Herself’s a bawd. Let not the virgin’s cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps That through the window-bars bore at men’s eyes Are not within the leaf of pity writ; But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy. Think it a bastard whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects. Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There’s gold to pay thy soldiers. Make large confusion, and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself. Speak not. Be gone.
ALCIBIADES	Hast thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou giv’st 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 wholesomeness a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, Your aprons mountant.
(didascalia)	He throws gold into their aprons
TIMON	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 pain-sick months Be quite contrary, and thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead—some that were hanged, No matter. Wear them, betray with them; whore still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face. A pox of wrinkles!
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 curled-pate ruffians bald, And let the unscarred braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you. Plague all, That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection. There’s more gold. Do you damn others, and let this damn you; And ditches grave you all!
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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt to drum and fife all but Timon
TIMON	That nature, being sick of man’s unkindness, Should yet be hungry! He digs the earth Common mother—thou Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast Teems and feeds all, whose selfsame mettle Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffed Engenders the black toad and adder blue, The gilded newt and eyeless venomed worm, With all th‘abhorrèd births below crisp heaven Whereon Hyperion’s quick’ning fire doth shine— Yield him who all thy human sons do hate From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root. Ensear thy fertile and conceptions 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. He finds a root 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!—
(didascalia)	Enter Apemantus
TIMON	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 diseased 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 mossed trees That have outlived 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 unhousèd trunks To the conflicting elements exposed 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 enforcèdly. Thou’dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crowned 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 shouldst 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 clasped, but bred a dog. Hadst thou like us from our first swathe proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drudges of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself In general riot, melted down thy youth In different beds of lust, and never learned The icy precepts of respect, but followed The sugared game before thee. But myself, Who had the world as my confectionary, The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men At duty, more than I could frame employment, That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winter’s brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows—I to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden. Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee hard in’t. Why shouldst thou hate men? They never flattered thee. What hast thou given? If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff To some she-beggar and compounded thee Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, 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. He bites the root
(didascalia)	APEMANTUS offering food Here, I will mend thy feast.
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 botched; 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 mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know’st none, but art despised 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 thou’dst hated meddlers 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 beloved?
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 accused by the ass. If thou wert the ass, thy dullness would torment thee, and still thou lived’st but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse. Wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard. Wert thou a leopard, thou wert 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 a 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. 356
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’d 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!
(didascalia)	He throws a stone at Apemantus
TIMON	I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
APEMANTUS	Beast!
TIMON	Slave!
APEMANTUS	Toad!
TIMON	Rogue, rogue, rogue! I am sick of this false world, and will love naught 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. He looks on 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, loved, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian’s lap; thou visible god, That sold’rest close impossibilities And mak‘st them kiss, that speak’st with every tongue To every purpose; O thou touch of hearts: Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire.
APEMANTUS	Would ’twere so, But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold. Thou wilt be thronged to shortly.
TIMON	Thronged to?
APEMANTUS	Ay.
TIMON	Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS	Live, and love thy misery.
TIMON	Long live so, and so die. I am quit.
(didascalia)	Enter the Banditti, thieves
APEMANTUS	More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
(didascalia)	Exit
FIRST THIEF	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 THIEF	It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIRD THIEF	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 THIEF	True, for he bears it not about him; ’tis hid.
FIRST THIEF	Is not this he?
OTHER THIEVES	Where?
SECOND THIEF	’Tis his description.
THIRD THIEF	He, I know him.
ALL THIEVES	(coming forward) Save thee, Timon.
TIMON	Now, thieves.
ALL THIEVES	Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON	Both, too, and women’s sons.
ALL THIEVES	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.
(didascalia)	Within this mile break forth a hundred springs.
TIMON	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 THIEF	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 professed, that you work not In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft In limited professions. (Giving gold) 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 unchecked 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 no less for this I give you, And gold confound you howsoe’er. Amen.
THIRD THIEF	He’s almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.
FIRST THIEF	’Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.
SECOND THIEF	I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.
FIRST THIEF	Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thieves
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius to Timon
FLAVIUS	O you gods! Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord, Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowed! 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 wished to love his enemies! Grant I may ever love and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do! Timon sees him He’s 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 thou’rt 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; ay, all I kept were knaves, To serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS	The gods are witness, Ne’er 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,
(didascalia)	He offers his money
FLAVIUS	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, 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 placed too late. You should have feared 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 honoured 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,
(didascalia)	He gives Flavius gold
TIMON	Here, take. The gods, out of my misery, Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, But thus conditioned: thou shalt build from men, Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famished flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs What thou deniest to men. Let prisons swallow ‘em, Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods. And so farewell, and thrive.
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Timon into his cave, Flavius another way

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Timone dalla sua caverna nel bosco, seminudo, e con una vanga
TIMONE	O benedetto sole generatore, trai dalla terra umidità putrida; sotto l’orbe di tua sorella infetta l’aria. Fratelli gemelli d’un solo ventre, la cui procreazione, dimora e nascita a stento si distinguono: toccali con fortune diverse, e il maggiore disprezza il minore. Non la natura, cui ogni piaga assedia, può sopportare gran fortuna se non col disprezzo della natura. È il pascolo che ingrassa i fianchi del fratello, la penuria che lo fa magro. Innalzami questo mendicante e abbassa quel signore, e il senatore porterà un disprezzo ereditario, il mendicante un onore nativo. Chi osa, chi osa in purezza di virilità star ritto e dire ‘Costui è un adulatore’? Se uno lo è, lo sono tutti, ché ogni gradino della fortuna è spianato da quello di sotto. La testa dotta s’inchina allo sciocco dorato. Tutto è obliquo; nulla è diritto nelle nostre nature maledette se non la schietta scelleratezza. Siano dunque aborriti tutti i banchetti, i consorzi e le folle d’uomini. Il suo simile, anzi sé stesso, Timone disdegna. La distruzione azzanni il genere umano. Terra, dammi radici. Scava Chi da te cerca di meglio, si condisca il palato col tuo più efficace veleno. Trova dell’oro Che c’è qui? Oro? Giallo, scintillante, prezioso oro? No, dèi, non sono un vano supplicante: radici, o cieli limpidi. Tanto così di questo può fare il nero bianco, il turpe bello, il torto ragione, il vile nobile, il vecchio giovane, il codardo valoroso. Ah, voi dèi! Perché questo, come, questo, voi dèi? Ecco, questo vi strapperà i sacerdoti e i servi dai fianchi, toglierà i guanciali di sotto il capo d’uomini robusti. Questo schiavo giallo annoderà e spezzerà religioni, benedirà i maledetti, farà adorare la lebbra canuta, collocherà i ladri, e darà loro titolo, riverenza e approvazione fra i senatori in seggio. È questo che fa rimaritare la vedova sfiorita. Colei di cui la casa dei lebbrosi e le piaghe ulcerose farebbero rivoltar lo stomaco, questo l’imbalsama e la profuma di nuovo in giorno d’aprile. Vieni, dannata terra, tu comune meretrice del genere umano, che semini discordia fra la calca delle nazioni; io ti farò compiere la tua vera natura. Marcia in lontananza Ah, un tamburo! Sei viva; ma pure ti seppellirò. Seppellisce l’oro Andrai, ladro potente, quando i tuoi gottosi custodi non potranno reggersi in piedi. Tiene un po’ d’oro No, resta tu fuori come caparra.
(didascalia)	Entra Alcibiade, con soldati che suonano tamburo e
TIMONE	piffero, in assetto di guerra; e Frinia e Timandra
ALCIBIADE	Chi sei tu costì? Parla.
TIMONE	Una bestia, come sei tu. Il verme ti roda il cuore per avermi mostrato di nuovo gli occhi d’un uomo.
ALCIBIADE	Qual è il tuo nome? È l’uomo tanto odioso a te che pure sei un uomo?
TIMONE	Sono Misantropo, e odio il genere umano. Per parte tua, vorrei che tu fossi un cane, ch’io potessi amarti un poco.
ALCIBIADE	Ti conosco bene, ma delle tue fortune sono ignaro ed estraneo.
TIMONE	Anch’io conosco te, e più di quanto ti conosco non desidero conoscere. Segui il tuo tamburo. Col sangue degli uomini dipingi il suolo di rosso, di rosso. I canoni religiosi, le leggi civili, sono crudeli; che dovrebbe essere allora la guerra? Questa tua feroce sgualdrina ha in sé più distruzione della tua spada, malgrado tutto il suo viso di cherubino.
FRINIA	Ti caschino le labbra imputridite!
TIMONE	Non ti bacerò; così il marciume ritorna di nuovo sulle tue stesse labbra.
ALCIBIADE	Come giunse il nobile Timone a questo mutamento?
TIMONE	Come fa la luna, per mancanza di luce da dare. Ma poi non potei rinnovarmi come la luna; non c’erano soli da cui prendere in prestito.
ALCIBIADE	Nobile Timone, quale amicizia posso renderti?
TIMONE	Nessuna se non confermare la mia opinione.
ALCIBIADE	Quale, Timone?
TIMONE	Promettimi amicizia, ma non mantenerne alcuna. Se prometterai, gli dèi ti flagellino, ché sei un uomo. Se non manterrai, ti confondano, ché sei un uomo.
ALCIBIADE	Ho udito in qualche modo delle tue miserie.
TIMONE	Le vedesti quando avevo prosperità.
ALCIBIADE	Le vedo ora; quello era un tempo benedetto.
TIMONE	Come il tuo ora, tenuto con un paio di sgualdrine.
TIMANDRA	È questo il beniamino d’Atene, di cui il mondo parlava con tanto riguardo?
SIMON	Sei tu Timandra?
TIMANDRA	Sì.
TIMONE	Resta pur meretrice. Non ti amano quelli che ti usano. Dà loro malattie, lasciando in te la loro libidine. Sfrutta le tue ore salaci: prepara quegli schiavi per le tinozze e i bagni, riduci la gioventù dalle guance di rosa al digiuno della tinozza e alla dieta.
TIMANDRA	Va’ a impiccarti, mostro!
ALCIBIADE	Perdonalo, dolce Timandra, ché il suo senno è annegato e perduto nelle sue calamità. Ho poco oro in questi giorni, valoroso Timone, e la mancanza di esso ogni giorno fa nascere rivolta nella mia banda squattrinata. Ho udito e mi son doluto di come la maledetta Atene, immemore del tuo valore, dimenticando le tue grandi gesta, quando gli stati vicini senza la tua spada e la tua fortuna li calpestavano—
TIMONE	Ti prego, batti il tuo tamburo e vattene.
ALCIBIADE	Sono tuo amico, e ho pietà di te, caro Timone.
TIMONE	Come compiangi colui che tu disturbi? Preferirei essere solo.
ALCIBIADE	Ebbene, sta’ bene. Ecco dell’oro per te.
TIMONE	Tienlo. Non posso mangiarlo.
ALCIBIADE	Quando avrò ridotto la superba Atene a un mucchio—
TIMONE	Fai guerra contro Atene?
ALCIBIADE	Sì, Timone, e ne ho motivo.
TIMONE	Gli dèi li confondano tutti nella tua conquista, e te dopo, quando avrai conquistato.
ALCIBIADE	Perché me, Timone?
TIMONE	Perché, uccidendo furfanti, sei nato per conquistare il mio paese. Riprendi il tuo oro. Dà dell’oro ad Alcibiade Va’ pure; ecco oro; va’ pure. Sii come una peste planetaria quando Giove vuol sospendere il suo veleno su qualche città viziosissima nell’aria malata. La tua spada non ne salti uno. Non aver pietà della veneranda età per la sua barba bianca; è un usuraio. Colpiscimi la matrona contraffatta; è solo la sua veste a essere onesta, lei è una ruffiana. La guancia della vergine non ammollisca la tua tagliente spada; ché quelle mammelle di latte che attraverso le sbarre della finestra trapassano gli occhi degli uomini non sono iscritte nel registro della pietà; ma segnale come orribili traditrici. Non risparmiare il bimbo i cui sorrisi fossettati esauriscono negli sciocchi la loro misericordia. Consideralo un bastardo, di cui l’oracolo ha ambiguamente predetto che ti taglierà la gola, e fallo a pezzi senza rimorso. Giura contro ogni obiezione. Metti l’armatura alle tue orecchie e ai tuoi occhi, la cui tempra né urla di madri, di fanciulle o di bimbi, né vista di sacerdoti sanguinanti nelle sacre vesti, trafiggano d’un solo punto. Ecco oro per pagare i tuoi soldati. Fa’ grande scempio, e, sfogato il tuo furore, sii confuso tu stesso. Non parlare. Vattene.
ALCIBIADE	Hai ancora oro? Prenderò l’oro che mi dai, non tutti i tuoi consigli.
TIMONE	Che tu lo faccia o no, la maledizione del cielo su di te!
FRINIA	e TIMANDRA Dacci un po’ d’oro, buon Timone. Ne hai ancora?
TIMONE	Abbastanza da far rinnegare a una meretrice il suo mestiere, e da fare della sanità una ruffiana. Alzate, sgualdrine, i vostri grembiuli. Tenete su i vostri grembiuli spiegati.
(didascalia)	Getta oro nei loro grembiuli
TIMONE	Non siete degne di giuramento, benché io sappia che giurerete, giurerete terribilmente, fino a forti brividi e a febbri celesti gli dèi immortali che v’ascoltano. Risparmiate i giuramenti; mi affiderò alla vostra indole. Restate meretrici, e colui il cui pio fiato cerca di convertirvi, siate forti nel puttaneggiare, allettatelo, bruciatelo tutto. Il vostro chiuso fuoco prevalga sul suo fumo; e non siate voltafaccia. Pure i vostri mesi malati di doglie siano tutto il contrario, e coprite i vostri poveri tetti radi con carichi di capelli dei morti—alcuni di impiccati, non importa. Portateli, tradite con essi; puttaneggiate ancora; imbellettatevi finché un cavallo possa impantanarsi sul vostro viso. Al diavolo le rughe!
FRINIA	e TIMANDRA Bene, altro oro; e poi? Credi pure che faremo qualunque cosa per l’oro.
TIMONE	Seminate consunzioni nelle ossa cave dell’uomo, colpite i loro stinchi aguzzi, e guastate agli uomini lo sprone. Rompete la voce all’avvocato, ch’egli non perori mai più un falso titolo né gridi stridulo i suoi cavilli. Incanutite il sacerdote che sbraita contro la qualità della carne e non crede a sé stesso. Giù col naso, giù, schiacciatelo; portate via del tutto il setto a colui che, per provvedere al proprio interesse, fiuta lontano dal bene comune. Fate calvi i ricciuti bravacci, e fate che gli sbruffoni della guerra senza cicatrici ricavino da voi qualche dolore. Appestate tutti, sì che la vostra attività sconfigga e soffochi la fonte d’ogni erezione. Ecco altro oro. Dannate voi gli altri, e questo danni voi; e i fossati vi facciano da tomba a tutte!
FRINIA	e TIMANDRA Più consigli con più denaro, munifico Timone.
TIMONE	Prima più puttaneggiare, più malanni; v’ho dato la caparra.
ALCIBIADE	Battete il tamburo verso Atene. Addio, Timone. Se mi va bene, ti visiterò di nuovo.
TIMONE	Se spero bene, non ti vedrò mai più.
ALCIBIADE	Non t’ho mai fatto male.
TIMONE	Sì, hai parlato bene di me.
ALCIBIADE	Chiami male quello?
TIMONE	Gli uomini lo sperimentano ogni giorno. Vattene, e portati via i tuoi segugi.
ALCIBIADE	Non facciamo che offenderlo. Battete!
(didascalia)	Escono al suono di tamburo e piffero tutti tranne Timone
TIMONE	Che la natura, nauseata della malvagità dell’uomo, debba pur avere fame! Scava la terra Madre comune—tu il cui ventre incommensurabile e il cui seno infinito tutti generano e nutrono; la cui stessa materia di cui il tuo superbo figlio, l’uomo arrogante, si gonfia genera il rospo nero e la vipera azzurra, il tritone dorato e il verme cieco e velenoso, con tutte le nascite aborrite sotto il cielo increspato su cui splende il fuoco vivificante d’Iperione— concedi a lui, che tutti i tuoi figli umani odiano, dal tuo seno copioso una povera radice. Inaridisci il tuo ventre fertile e concipiente; non produca mai più l’uomo ingrato. Va’ gravida di tigri, draghi, lupi e orsi; partorisci nuovi mostri, quali il tuo volto rivolto in su non ha mai presentato alla dimora marmorea lassù nell’alto. Trova una radice Oh, una radice! Care grazie. Prosciuga i tuoi midolli, le viti e i campi arati, con cui l’uomo ingrato, con bevande ghiotte e bocconi untuosi, ingrassa la sua mente pura, sì che da essa ogni riflessione scivola via!—
(didascalia)	Entra Apemanto
TIMONE	Ancora un uomo? Peste, peste!
APEMANTO	Sono stato indirizzato qui. Gli uomini riferiscono che tu imiti i miei modi, e che li pratichi.
TIMONE	È allora perché non tieni un cane che io vorrei imitare. Ti prenda la consunzione!
APEMANTO	Questa è in te una natura soltanto infettata, una povera e virile malinconia, nata da mutamento di fortuna. Perché questa vanga, questo luogo, questa veste da schiavo, e questi sguardi d’affanno? I tuoi adulatori portano ancora seta, bevono vino, dormono molli, abbracciano i loro profumi malati, e hanno dimenticato che Timone sia mai esistito. Non svergognare questi boschi assumendo l’astuzia d’un censore. Fatti adulatore ora, e cerca di prosperare con ciò che t’ha rovinato. Piega il ginocchio, e lascia che il fiato stesso di colui che corteggerai ti soffi via il berretto. Loda la sua vena più viziosa, e chiamala eccellente. A te fu detto così. Prestavi le orecchie come tavernieri che danno il benvenuto a furfanti e a chiunque s’accosti. È giustissimo che tu diventi un mascalzone. Se tu riavessi ricchezza, i mascalzoni l’avrebbero. Non assumere le mie sembianze.
TIMONE	Se fossi come te, getterei via me stesso.
APEMANTO	Hai gettato via te stesso essendo simile a te stesso— tanto tempo un pazzo, ora uno sciocco. Come, credi che l’aria gelida, il tuo turbolento ciambellano, ti scaldi la camicia? Che questi alberi muschiosi, che sono sopravvissuti all’aquila, ti facciano da paggio ai calcagni e saltino quando tu accenni? Che il freddo ruscello, candito di ghiaccio, ti prepari il beveraggio del mattino per guarirti dalla crapula della notte? Chiama le creature le cui nude nature vivono in tutto il dispetto del cielo vendicativo, i cui tronchi spogli e senza casa, esposti agli elementi in conflitto, rispondono con la sola natura; ordina loro di adularti. Oh, tu troverai—
TIMONE	Uno sciocco in te! Vattene.
APEMANTO	Ti amo più ora che mai.
TIMONE	Io ti odio di più.
APEMANTO	Perché?
TIMONE	Tu aduli la miseria.
APEMANTO	Non adulo, ma dico che sei un miserabile.
TIMONE	Perché mi vieni a cercare?
APEMANTO	Per tormentarti.
TIMONE	Sempre ufficio d’un furfante, o d’uno sciocco. Ci trovi diletto?
APEMANTO	Sì.
TIMONE	Come, anche furfante?
APEMANTO	Se tu avessi indossato quest’abito aspro e freddo per castigare il tuo orgoglio, sarebbe bene; ma tu lo fai per forza. Torneresti cortigiano se non fossi mendicante. La miseria voluta sopravvive al fasto incerto, ed è coronata prima. L’uno va sempre riempiendosi, mai completo; l’altra è al colmo del desiderio. Il miglior stato, senza contentezza, ha un’esistenza sconvolta e misera, peggiore del peggiore, che è contento. Dovresti desiderare di morire, essendo misero.
TIMONE	Non per il fiato di chi è più misero. Tu sei uno schiavo che il tenero braccio della fortuna non strinse mai con favore, ma allevò come un cane. Se tu, come noi, dalle prime fasce avessi percorso i dolci gradi che questo breve mondo concede a coloro che possono liberamente comandare i suoi servi passivi, ti saresti tuffato nella dissolutezza generale, avresti fuso la tua gioventù in diversi letti di libidine, e mai avresti appreso i gelidi precetti del riguardo, ma avresti inseguito la selvaggina zuccherina davanti a te. Ma io, che avevo il mondo per mia confetteria, le bocche, le lingue, gli occhi e i cuori degli uomini al mio servizio, più di quanti potessi impiegare, che innumerevoli mi si attaccavano addosso, come foglie fanno alla quercia, con una sola spazzata d’inverno caddero dai loro rami, e mi lasciarono scoperto, nudo a ogni tempesta che soffia—che io sopporti questo, io che non conobbi mai se non il meglio, è pur qualche peso. La tua natura cominciò nella sofferenza, il tempo t’ha reso duro in essa. Perché dovresti odiare gli uomini? Non t’hanno mai adulato. Che cosa hai dato tu? Se vuoi maledire, tuo padre, quel povero cencio, dev’essere il tuo soggetto, il quale per dispetto mise seme in qualche mendicante e ti compose povero furfante ereditario. Via, vattene. Se non fossi nato il peggiore degli uomini saresti stato un furfante e un adulatore.
APEMANTO	Sei ancora superbo?
TIMONE	Sì, di non essere te.
APEMANTO	Io di non essere stato un prodigo.
TIMONE	Io di esserlo ora. Fosse tutta la ricchezza che ho rinchiusa in te, ti darei licenza d’impiccarti con essa. Vattene. Fosse in questa tutta la vita d’Atene! Così la mangerei. Morde la radice
(didascalia)	APEMANTO offrendo del cibo Ecco, migliorerò il tuo banchetto.
TIMONE	Migliora prima la mia compagnia: togli via te stesso.
APEMANTO	Così migliorerò la mia con la mancanza della tua.
TIMONE	Non è ben migliorata così, è solo rattoppata; se non lo è, vorrei che lo fosse.
APEMANTO	Che vorresti mandare ad Atene?
TIMONE	Te là dentro in un turbine. Se vuoi, di’ loro che ho dell’oro. Guarda, ne ho davvero.
APEMANTO	Qui non c’è uso per l’oro.
TIMONE	Il migliore e il più vero, ché qui dorme e non fa danno prezzolato.
APEMANTO	Dove giaci di notte, Timone?
TIMONE	Sotto ciò che mi sta sopra. Dove ti nutri di giorno, Apemanto?
APEMANTO	Dove il mio stomaco trova cibo; o meglio, dove lo mangio.
TIMONE	Fosse il veleno obbediente, e conoscesse la mia mente!
APEMANTO	Dove lo manderesti?
TIMONE	A condire le tue pietanze.
APEMANTO	Il mezzo dell’umanità tu non l’hai mai conosciuto, ma solo l’estremo d’entrambi i capi. Quando eri nella tua doratura e nel tuo profumo, ti beffavano per troppa ricercatezza; nei tuoi cenci non ne conosci alcuna, ma sei disprezzato per il contrario. Ecco una nespola per te; mangiala.
TIMONE	Di ciò che odio non mi nutro.
APEMANTO	Odi una nespola?
TIMONE	Sì, benché somigli a te.
APEMANTO	Se avessi odiato prima gli intriganti, ora dovresti amare di più te stesso. Che uomo scialacquatore hai mai conosciuto che fosse amato dopo i suoi mezzi?
TIMONE	Chi, senza quei mezzi di cui parli, hai mai conosciuto tu che fosse amato?
APEMANTO	Me stesso.
TIMONE	Ti capisco: avevi qualche mezzo per mantenere un cane.
APEMANTO	Quali cose al mondo puoi paragonare più da vicino ai tuoi adulatori?
TIMONE	Le donne più da vicino; ma gli uomini, gli uomini sono le cose stesse. Che faresti tu del mondo, Apemanto, se stesse in tuo potere?
APEMANTO	Lo darei alle bestie, per sbarazzarmi degli uomini.
TIMONE	Vorresti tu stesso cadere nella rovina degli uomini, e restare una bestia fra le bestie?
APEMANTO	Sì, Timone.
TIMONE	Una bestiale ambizione, che gli dèi ti concedano di raggiungere. Se tu fossi il leone, la volpe t’ingannerebbe. Se fossi l’agnello, la volpe ti mangerebbe. Se fossi la volpe, il leone ti sospetterebbe quando per avventura fossi accusato dall’asino. Se fossi l’asino, la tua ottusità ti tormenterebbe, e vivresti soltanto come colazione del lupo. Se fossi il lupo, la tua ingordigia t’affliggerebbe, e spesso rischieresti la vita per il tuo pranzo. Fossi l’unicorno, l’orgoglio e l’ira ti confonderebbero, e farebbero del tuo stesso io la conquista del tuo furore. Fossi un orso, saresti ucciso dal cavallo. Fossi un cavallo, saresti ghermito dal leopardo. Fossi un leopardo, saresti germano del leone, e le macchie della tua parentela sarebbero giurati sulla tua vita; tutta la tua salvezza sarebbe l’allontanarti, e la tua difesa l’assenza. Che bestia potresti essere che non fosse soggetta a una bestia? E che bestia sei già, che non vedi la tua perdita nella trasformazione!
APEMANTO	Se tu potessi piacermi parlando con me, avresti potuto coglierlo qui. La repubblica d’Atene è divenuta una foresta di bestie.
TIMONE	Come, l’asino ha rotto il muro, che tu sei fuori della città?
APEMANTO	Laggiù vengono un poeta e un pittore. La peste della compagnia cada su di te! Temerò di prenderla, e mi tolgo di mezzo. Quando non saprò che altro fare, ti rivedrò. 356
TIMONE	Quando non ci sarà nulla di vivo se non te, sarai il benvenuto. Preferirei essere il cane d’un mendicante che Apemanto.
APEMANTO	Tu sei il berretto di tutti gli sciocchi viventi.
TIMONE	Fossi tu abbastanza pulito da sputarci sopra.
APEMANTO	La peste su di te! Sei troppo cattivo perfino da maledire.
TIMONE	Tutti i furfanti che ti stanno accanto sono puri.
APEMANTO	Non c’è lebbra se non quella che tu parli.
TIMONE	Se pronuncio il tuo nome. Ti batterei, ma m’infetterei le mani.
APEMANTO	Vorrei che la mia lingua potesse fartele marcire e cadere.
TIMONE	Via, tu progenie d’un cane rognoso! La collera mi uccide che tu sia vivo. Vengo meno a vederti.
APEMANTO	Vorrei che tu scoppiassi!
TIMONE	Via, tu noioso furfante!
(didascalia)	Getta una pietra contro Apemanto
TIMONE	Mi dispiace di perdere una pietra per causa tua.
APEMANTO	Bestia!
TIMONE	Schiavo!
APEMANTO	Rospo!
TIMONE	Furfante, furfante, furfante! Sono nauseato di questo mondo falso, e non amerò nulla se non le pure necessità che vi sono. Allora, Timone, prepara subito la tua tomba. Giaci dove la lieve spuma del mare possa battere ogni giorno la tua pietra sepolcrale. Componi il tuo epitaffio, sì che la morte in me possa ridere della vita altrui. Guarda l’oro O tu, dolce uccisore di re, e caro divorzio fra il figlio naturale e il padre; tu splendido profanatore del più puro letto d’Imeneo; tu valoroso Marte; tu sempre giovane, fresco, amato e delicato corteggiatore, il cui rossore disgela la neve consacrata che giace in grembo a Diana; tu dio visibile, che saldi insieme strette impossibilità e le fai baciare, che parli con ogni lingua per ogni scopo; o tu pietra di paragone dei cuori: pensa che l’uomo tuo schiavo si ribella, e con la tua virtù mettili in discordia rovinosa, sì che le bestie abbiano l’impero del mondo.
APEMANTO	Fosse così, ma non prima ch’io sia morto. Dirò che hai dell’oro. Sarai presto assediato dalla folla.
TIMONE	Assediato dalla folla?
APEMANTO	Sì.
TIMONE	Le spalle, ti prego.
APEMANTO	Vivi, e ama la tua miseria.
TIMONE	Viva a lungo così, e così muoia. Siamo pari.
(didascalia)	Entrano i Banditi, ladroni
APEMANTO	Altre cose simili a uomini. Mangia, Timone, e detestali.
(didascalia)	Esce
PRIMO LADRONE	Da dove gli verrebbe quest’oro? Sarà qualche povero frammento, qualche misero avanzo del suo residuo. La pura mancanza d’oro e l’abbandono dei suoi amici l’hanno spinto in questa malinconia.
SECONDO LADRONE	Si dice in giro che abbia una massa di tesoro.
TERZO LADRONE	Facciamone la prova su di lui. Se non gli importa, ce ne fornirà facilmente. Se lo serba avidamente, come faremo a prenderlo?
SECONDO LADRONE	Vero, ché non lo porta addosso; è nascosto.
PRIMO LADRONE	Non è lui quello?
ALTRI LADRONI	Dove?
SECONDO LADRONE	È la sua descrizione.
TERZO LADRONE	È lui, lo conosco.
TUTTI I LADRONI	(facendosi avanti) Dio ti salvi, Timone.
TIMONE	Ebbene, ladri.
TUTTI I LADRONI	Soldati, non ladri.
TIMONE	Entrambi, anche, e figli di donna.
TUTTI I LADRONI	Non siamo ladri, ma uomini che hanno gran bisogno.
TIMONE	Il vostro maggior bisogno è che vi manca molto cibo. Perché dovreste mancarne? Guardate, la terra ha radici.
(didascalia)	Entro un miglio da qui sgorgano cento sorgenti.
TIMONE	Le querce portano ghiande, i rovi rossi cinorrodi. La munifica massaia natura su ogni cespuglio vi pone davanti la sua piena pietanza. Bisogno? Perché bisogno?
PRIMO LADRONE	Non possiamo vivere d’erba, di bacche, d’acqua, come bestie, uccelli e pesci.
TIMONE	Né delle bestie stesse, degli uccelli e dei pesci; dovete mangiare uomini. Pure vi devo rendere grazie che siate ladri per professione, che non operiate in forme più sante; ché c’è furto sconfinato nelle professioni legali. (Dando dell’oro) Ladri mascalzoni, ecco oro. Andate a succhiare il sottile sangue dell’uva finché l’alta febbre non vi faccia ribollire il sangue in schiuma, e così scampiate alla forca. Non fidatevi del medico: i suoi antidoti sono veleno, ed egli uccide più di quanto voi rubiate. Prendete ricchezze e vite insieme. Fate scelleratezze; fatele, poiché dichiarate di farle, da operai. Vi darò esempi di ladrocinio. Il sole è un ladro, e con la sua grande attrazione deruba il vasto mare. La luna è una ladra matricolata, e il suo pallido fuoco lo strappa al sole. Il mare è un ladro, la cui liquida marea scioglie la luna in salate lacrime. La terra è una ladra, che si nutre e genera con un concime rubato dagli escrementi generali. Ogni cosa è ladra. Le leggi, vostro freno e vostra frusta, nel loro rozzo potere hanno il furto impunito. Non amate voi stessi. Via, derubatevi l’un l’altro. Ecco altro oro. Tagliate gole; tutti quelli che incontrate sono ladri. Andate ad Atene, sfondate le botteghe; nulla potete rubare che i ladri non lo perdano. Non rubate meno per questo che vi do, e l’oro vi confonda comunque. Amen.
TERZO LADRONE	M’ha quasi incantato lontano dalla mia professione persuadendomi a essa.
PRIMO LADRONE	È per malizia verso il genere umano che ci consiglia così, non per farci prosperare nel nostro mestiere.
SECONDO LADRONE	Gli crederò come a un nemico, e lascerò il mio mestiere.
PRIMO LADRONE	Vediamo prima la pace ad Atene. Non c’è tempo tanto misero che un uomo non possa essere onesto.
(didascalia)	Escono i Ladroni
(didascalia)	Entra Flavio verso Timone
FLAVIO	O voi dèi! È quell’uomo disprezzato e in rovina il mio signore, pieno di decadimento e di sfacelo? O monumento e meraviglia di buone azioni malamente elargite! Che alterazione d’onore ha prodotto la disperata miseria! Che cosa più vile sulla terra degli amici, che possono condurre i più nobili animi ai più bassi fini! Quanto raramente s’accorda col costume di questo tempo, quando all’uomo fu prescritto d’amare i propri nemici! Concedano ch’io ami sempre e corteggi piuttosto quelli che vorrebbero farmi male che quelli che me lo fanno! Timone lo vede M’ha colto con l’occhio. Gli presenterò il mio onesto dolore, e come mio signore lo servirò ancora con la mia vita.—Mio carissimo padrone.
TIMONE	Via! Chi sei tu?
FLAVIO	M’avete dimenticato, signore?
TIMONE	Perché lo chiedi? Ho dimenticato tutti gli uomini; dunque, se ammetti d’essere uomo, ho dimenticato te.
FLAVIO	Un onesto povero servo vostro.
TIMONE	Allora non ti conosco. Non ebbi mai uomo onesto intorno a me; sì, tutti quelli che tenni erano furfanti, per servire vivande a furfanti.
FLAVIO	Gli dèi ne son testimoni, mai povero intendente portò un dolore più vero per il suo signore rovinato di quanto lo portino i miei occhi per voi.
TIMONE	Come, tu piangi? Vieni più vicino allora; ti amo perché sei una donna, e ripudi l’umanità di selce, i cui occhi non danno mai se non attraverso la libidine e il riso. La pietà dorme. Strani tempi, che piangono ridendo, e non piangendo!
FLAVIO	Vi supplico di riconoscermi, mio buon signore, d’accettare il mio dolore,
(didascalia)	Offre il suo denaro
FLAVIO	e, finché dura questa povera ricchezza, di tenermi ancora come vostro intendente.
TIMONE	Avevo io un intendente così fedele, così giusto, e ora così consolante? Quasi ammansisce la mia pericolosa natura. Lascia ch’io veda il tuo volto. Certo quest’uomo è nato di donna. Perdonate la mia generale e senza eccezioni avventatezza, voi dèi perpetuamente sobri! Io proclamo un uomo onesto—non fraintendetemi, ma uno, non più, vi prego—ed è un intendente. Quanto volentieri avrei odiato tutto il genere umano, e tu riscatti te stesso! Ma tutti tranne te li ho abbattuti con maledizioni. Mi pare che tu sia più onesto che savio, ché opprimendomi e tradendomi avresti potuto ottenere più presto un altro servizio; ché molti giungono così a secondi padroni sul collo del primo signore. Ma dimmi il vero— ché devo sempre dubitare, per quanto sia sicuro— la tua bontà non è sottile, avida, una bontà d’usuraio, e, come i ricchi elargiscono doni, che s’aspetta in cambio venti per uno?
FLAVIO	No, mio degnissimo padrone, nel cui petto il dubbio e il sospetto, ahimè, si sono insediati troppo tardi. Avreste dovuto temere i tempi falsi quando banchettavate. Il sospetto giunge sempre dove il patrimonio è minimo. Ciò che mostro, il cielo lo sa, è puro amore, dovere e zelo verso il vostro animo senza pari, cura del vostro cibo e del vostro vivere; e, credetelo, mio onoratissimo signore, qualunque beneficio che a me si rivolga, in speranza o presente, lo scambierei per questo solo desiderio: che aveste potere e ricchezza da ricompensarmi arricchendo voi stesso.
TIMONE	Guarda, è così. Tu, unico uomo onesto,
(didascalia)	Dà dell’oro a Flavio
TIMONE	Ecco, prendi. Gli dèi, dalla mia miseria, t’hanno mandato un tesoro. Va’, vivi ricco e felice, ma a questa condizione: costruirai lontano dagli uomini, odierai tutti, maledirai tutti, non mostrerai carità a nessuno, ma lascerai che la carne affamata scivoli via dall’osso prima di soccorrere il mendicante. Da’ ai cani ciò che neghi agli uomini. Che le prigioni li inghiottano, i debiti li riducano a nulla; siano gli uomini come boschi fulminati, e le malattie lecchino via i loro falsi sangui. E così addio, e prospera.
FLAVIO	Oh, lasciate ch’io resti e vi conforti, padrone mio.
TIMONE	Se odi le maledizioni, non restare. Fuggi mentre sei benedetto e libero. Non vedere mai più un uomo, e ch’io non veda mai più te.
(didascalia)	Escono Timone nella sua caverna, Flavio per un’altra via

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Poet and Painter
PAINTER	As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
POET	What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he’s so full of gold?
PAINTER	Certain. Alcibiades reports it. Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him. He likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. ’Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
POET	Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends?
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 supposed 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 a 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon from his cave, unobserved
PAINTER	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 judgement that makes it.
TIMON	(aside) Excellent workman, thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.
POET	(to Painter) 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	(to Painter) 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-cornered night, Find what thou want’st by free and offered fight. Come.
TIMON	(aside) I’ll meet you at the turn. What a god’s gold, That he is worshipped in a baser temple Than where swine feed! ‘Tis thou that rigg’st the barque and plough’st the foam, Settlest admired reverence in a slave. To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey. Fit I meet them. He comes forward to them
POET	Hail, worthy Timon!
PAINTER	Our late noble master!
TIMON	Have I once lived to see two honest men?
POET	Sir, having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retired, 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 infiuence 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 travelled 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.
POET	and PAINTER What we can do we’ll do to do you service.
TIMON	You’re honest men. You’ve heard that I have gold, I am sure you have. Speak truth; you’re honest men.
PAINTER	So it is said, my noble lord, but therefor Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON	Good honest men. (To Painter) Thou draw‘st a counterfeit Best in all Athens; thou’rt 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-natured friends, I must needs say you have a little fault. Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much pains to mend.
POET	and PAINTER Beseech your honour To make it known to us.
TIMON	You’ll take it ill.
POET	and PAINTER Most thankfully, my lord.
TIMON	Will you indeed?
POET	and PAINTER Doubt it not, worthy lord.
TIMON	There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave That mightily deceives you.
POET	and PAINTER 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 assured That he’s a made-up villain.
PAINTER	I know none 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.
POET	and PAINTER 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.
(didascalia)	To Painter If where thou art two villains shall not be,
(didascalia)	Come not near him. To Poet If thou wouldst not
TIMON	reside But where one villain is, then him abandon.
(didascalia)	Hence; pack! Striking him There’s gold. You came
TIMON	for gold, ye slaves.
(didascalia)	Striking Painter You have work for me; there’s
TIMON	payment. Hence!
(didascalia)	Striking Poet You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
(didascalia)	Out, rascal dogs! Exeunt Poet and Painter one way,
(didascalia)	Timon into his cave

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Poeta e il Pittore
PITTORE	Da come ho preso nota del luogo, non può essere lontano il posto dove dimora.
POETA	Che si deve pensare di lui? Regge per vera la voce che sia così pieno d’oro?
PITTORE	Certissimo. Alcibiade lo riferisce. Frinia e Timandra ebbero oro da lui. Egli parimenti arricchì di gran quantità poveri soldati sbandati. Si dice che al suo intendente diede una somma ingente.
POETA	Allora questo suo fallimento non è stato che una prova per i suoi amici?
PITTORE	Nient’altro. Lo vedrete di nuovo palma in Atene, e fiorire con i più alti. Perciò non è male che gli offriamo il nostro affetto in questa sua presunta angustia. Ci farà apparire onesti, ed è assai probabile che carichi i nostri intenti di ciò per cui s’affaticano, se è giusta e vera la voce che corre sui suoi averi.
POETA	Che avete ora da presentargli?
PITTORE	Nulla per il momento, se non la mia visita; solo gli prometterò un’opera eccellente.
POETA	Dovrò servirlo così anch’io, parlargli d’un progetto che sta per venirgli incontro.
PITTORE	Buono come il migliore.
(didascalia)	Entra Timone dalla sua caverna, inosservato
PITTORE	Promettere è proprio l’aria del tempo; apre gli occhi dell’aspettativa. L’adempiere è sempre più fiacco nel suo atto, e se non presso la gente più semplice e schietta il fatto conforme al detto è del tutto fuori uso. Promettere è cosa cortigianesca e alla moda. L’adempiere è una specie di volontà o testamento, che dimostra una grave malattia nel giudizio di chi lo fa.
TIMONE	(a parte) Eccellente artefice, non sai dipingere un uomo tanto cattivo quanto sei tu stesso.
POETA	(al Pittore) Sto pensando a che cosa dirò d’aver preparato per lui. Dev’essere una raffigurazione di lui stesso, una satira contro la mollezza della prosperità, con la scoperta delle infinite adulazioni che seguono la giovinezza e l’opulenza.
TIMONE	(a parte) Devi proprio far la parte d’un furfante nella tua stessa opera? Vuoi flagellare i tuoi difetti in altri uomini? Fallo pure; ho dell’oro per te.
POETA	(al Pittore) Su, cerchiamolo. Allora pecchiamo contro il nostro stesso interesse quando possiamo trovare il profitto e giungiamo troppo tardi.
PITTORE	Vero. Quando il giorno serve, prima della notte dagli angoli neri, trova ciò che ti manca con libera e offerta luce. Vieni.
TIMONE	(a parte) V’incontrerò alla svolta. Che dio è l’oro, che viene adorato in un tempio più vile di quello dove si nutrono i porci! Sei tu che armi la barca e solchi la spuma, che insedi ammirata riverenza in uno schiavo. A te sia culto, e i tuoi santi in eterno siano coronati di pesti, essi che a te solo obbediscono. È giusto ch’io li incontri. Si fa avanti verso di loro
POETA	Salve, degno Timone!
PITTORE	Nostro nobile padrone d’un tempo!
TIMONE	Ho vissuto tanto da vedere due uomini onesti?
POETA	Signore, avendo spesso gustato della vostra aperta munificenza, udendo che vi eravate ritirato, che i vostri amici erano venuti meno, le cui nature ingrate, o spiriti aborriti, tutte le sferze del cielo non bastano— come, a voi, la cui nobiltà simile a stella diede vita e influsso a tutto il loro essere! Sono rapito, e non posso coprire la mole mostruosa di quest’ingratitudine con parole d’alcuna misura.
TIMONE	Lasciatela nuda; gli uomini la vedranno meglio. Voi che siete onesti, essendo quel che siete li rendete visibilissimi e riconoscibili.
PITTORE	Egli e io abbiamo camminato nel gran rovescio dei vostri doni, e dolcemente l’abbiamo sentito.
TIMONE	Sì, siete uomini onesti.
PITTORE	Siamo venuti qui a offrirvi il nostro servizio.
TIMONE	Onestissimi uomini. Ebbene, come vi ricompenserò? Potete mangiare radici e bere fredda acqua? No.
POETA	e PITTORE Quel che possiamo fare lo faremo per servirvi.
TIMONE	Siete uomini onesti. Avete udito che ho dell’oro, ne son certo. Dite la verità; siete uomini onesti.
PITTORE	Così si dice, mio nobile signore, ma non per questo venimmo io e il mio amico.
TIMONE	Buoni uomini onesti. (Al Pittore) Tu dipingi un ritratto meglio di chiunque in Atene; sei davvero il migliore; contraffai con somma vivezza.
PITTORE	Così così, mio signore.
TIMONE	Proprio così, signore, come dico. (Al Poeta) E quanto alla tua invenzione, ebbene, il tuo verso si gonfia di materia così fine e liscia che sei perfino naturale nella tua arte. Ma con tutto questo, amici miei d’onesta natura, devo pur dire che avete un piccolo difetto. Certo, non è mostruoso in voi, né desidero che vi diate gran pena per correggerlo.
POETA	e PITTORE Supplichiamo vostro onore di farcelo conoscere.
TIMONE	Ve l’avrete a male.
POETA	e PITTORE Con molta gratitudine, mio signore.
TIMONE	Davvero?
POETA	e PITTORE Non dubitatene, degno signore.
TIMONE	Non ce n’è uno di voi che non si fidi d’un furfante che potentemente v’inganna.
POETA	e PITTORE Davvero, mio signore?
TIMONE	Sì, e lo sentite barare, lo vedete fingere, conoscete la sua grossolana ciarlataneria, l’amate, lo nutrite, lo tenete in seno; eppure restate certi ch’è un furfante bell’e fatto.
PITTORE	Non ne conosco alcuno di simile, mio signore.
POETA	Né io.
TIMONE	Vedete, io vi amo bene. Vi darò oro, liberatemi questi furfanti dalle vostre compagnie. Impiccateli o pugnalateli, annegateli in una fogna, confondeteli in qualche modo, e venite da me, vi darò oro a sufficienza.
POETA	e PITTORE Nominateli, mio signore, facceli conoscere.
TIMONE	Tu da quella parte e tu da questa—ma due in compagnia— ciascuno per conto suo, tutti singoli e soli, eppure un arci-furfante gli tiene compagnia.
(didascalia)	Al Pittore Se dove tu sei non devono esserci due furfanti,
(didascalia)	non avvicinarti a lui. Al Poeta Se tu non volessi
TIMONE	risiedere se non dove c’è un solo furfante, allora abbandonalo.
(didascalia)	Via di qui; sgombrate! Percuotendolo Ecco dell’oro. Siete venuti
TIMONE	per oro, schiavi che siete.
(didascalia)	Percuotendo il Pittore Avete lavoro per me; ecco il
TIMONE	pagamento. Via!
(didascalia)	Percuotendo il Poeta Siete un alchimista; fatene oro.
(didascalia)	Fuori, cani mascalzoni! Escono il Poeta e il Pittore da una parte,
(didascalia)	Timone nella sua caverna

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Flavius and two Senators
FLAVIUS	It is in vain that you would speak with Timon, For he is set so only to himself That nothing but himself which looks like man Is friendly with him.
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 framed 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. (Calling) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Timon out of his cave
TIMON	Thou sun that comforts, burn! Speak and be hanged. For each true word a blister, and each false Be as a cantherizing 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, Allowed 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-brained 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	(to Senators) Stay not; all’s in vain.
TIMON	Why, I was writing of my epitaph. It will be seen tomorrow. My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go; live still. Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough.
FIRST SENATOR	We speak in vain.
TIMON	But yet I love my country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wrack 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	(aside) 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	(to Senators) 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 four words go by, and language end. What is amiss, plague and infection mend. Graves only be men’s works, and death their gain. Sun, hide thy beams. Timon hath done his reign.
(didascalia)	Exit into his
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Flavio e due Senatori
FLAVIO	È vano che vogliate parlare con Timone, ché egli è talmente rivolto a sé solo che nulla, tranne sé stesso, che abbia sembianza d’uomo gli è amico.
PRIMO SENATORE	Conducici alla sua caverna. È nostro compito e nostra promessa agli Ateniesi di parlare con Timone.
SECONDO SENATORE	In tutti i tempi allo stesso modo gli uomini non restano sempre uguali. Furono il tempo e i dolori a foggiarlo così. Il Tempo, con la sua mano più benigna, offrendogli le fortune dei suoi giorni passati, può rifarne l’uomo di prima. Conducici da lui, e vada come può andare.
FLAVIO	Ecco la sua caverna. (Chiamando) Pace e contentezza siano qui! Signor Timone, Timone, affacciati e parla agli amici. Gli Ateniesi per bocca di due dei più venerandi del loro senato ti salutano. Parla loro, nobile Timone.
(didascalia)	Entra Timone fuori dalla sua caverna
TIMONE	Tu sole che conforti, brucia! Parlate e siate impiccati. Per ogni parola vera una vescica, e ogni falsa sia come un cauterio alla radice della lingua, consumandola nel parlare.
PRIMO SENATORE	Degno Timone—
TIMONE	Degno di nessuno se non di gente come voi, e voi di Timone.
PRIMO SENATORE	I senatori d’Atene ti salutano, Timone.
TIMONE	Li ringrazio, e vorrei rimandare loro la peste potessi soltanto prenderla per loro.
PRIMO SENATORE	Oh, dimentica ciò di cui ci dogliamo, noi stessi in te. I senatori con unanime consenso d’amore ti supplicano di tornare ad Atene, avendo pensato a speciali dignità che giacciono vacanti perché tu le usi e le porti al meglio.
SECONDO SENATORE	Confessano verso di te una dimenticanza troppo generale e grossolana, e ora il corpo pubblico, che di rado fa la parte di chi si ritratta, sentendo in sé una mancanza dell’aiuto di Timone, ha insieme coscienza del proprio fallo, per aver negato aiuto a Timone; e manda noi a fare la loro dolente ammenda, insieme a una ricompensa più fruttuosa di quanto la loro offesa possa pesare a dramma; sì, tali cumuli e somme d’amore e di ricchezza da cancellare in te i torti che furono loro, e da scrivere in te le cifre del loro amore, perché tu le legga per sempre come tue.
TIMONE	Mi stregate con ciò, mi sorprendete fin sull’orlo delle lacrime. Prestatemi un cuore di sciocco e occhi di donna, e piangerò su questi conforti, degni senatori.
PRIMO SENATORE	Perciò, se ti piacerà tornare con noi, e della nostra Atene, tua e nostra, prendere il comando, sarai accolto con ringraziamenti, investito di potere assoluto, e il tuo buon nome vivrà con autorità. Così presto respingeremo i selvaggi assalti d’Alcibiade, il quale, come un cinghiale troppo feroce, sradica la pace del suo paese.
SECONDO SENATORE	E scuote la sua minacciosa spada contro le mura d’Atene.
PRIMO SENATORE	Perciò, Timone—
TIMONE	Bene, signore, lo farò; perciò lo farò, signore, così. Se Alcibiade uccide i miei concittadini, sappia Alcibiade questo da Timone: che a Timone non importa. Ma se saccheggerà la bella Atene, e prenderà per la barba i nostri bei vecchi, dando le nostre sante vergini alla macchia d’una guerra contumeliosa, bestiale, forsennata, allora sappia, e ditegli che Timone lo dice per pietà dei nostri vecchi e della nostra gioventù, che non posso far altro che dirgli che non m’importa; e—lo prenda pure nel peggior senso—dei loro coltelli non m’importa finché avete gole da rispondere. Quanto a me, non c’è coltellaccio in quell’accampamento sfrenato ch’io non stimi con tutto il mio amore più della più veneranda gola d’Atene. Così vi lascio alla protezione dei prosperi dèi, come ladri ai carcerieri.
FLAVIO	(ai Senatori) Non restate; tutto è vano.
TIMONE	Ecco, stavo scrivendo il mio epitaffio. Si vedrà domani. La mia lunga malattia di salute e di vita comincia ora a guarire, e il nulla mi porta ogni cosa. Andate; vivete pure. Sia Alcibiade la vostra peste, e voi la sua, e durate insieme abbastanza a lungo.
PRIMO SENATORE	Parliamo invano.
TIMONE	Eppure amo il mio paese, e non sono uno che si rallegri della rovina comune come la voce comune lo dipinge.
PRIMO SENATORE	Questo è ben detto.
TIMONE	Salutatemi i miei amorevoli concittadini—
PRIMO SENATORE	Queste parole s’addicono alle vostre labbra mentre passano per esse.
SECONDO SENATORE	Ed entrano nelle nostre orecchie come grandi trionfatori nelle loro porte plaudenti.
TIMONE	Salutatemeli, e dite loro che, per alleviarli dei loro dolori, dei loro timori di colpi nemici, dei loro mali, delle perdite, delle loro fitte d’amore, con le altre doglie inerenti che il fragile vaso della natura sostiene nell’incerto viaggio della vita, farò loro qualche cortesia. Insegnerò loro a prevenire l’ira del selvaggio Alcibiade.
PRIMO SENATORE	(a parte) Questo mi piace molto; egli tornerà.
TIMONE	Ho un albero che cresce qui nel mio recinto che il mio proprio uso m’invita ad abbattere, e fra poco dovrò atterrarlo. Dite ai miei amici, dite ad Atene, in ordine di grado dall’alto al basso senza eccezione, che chi voglia por fine all’afflizione s’affretti, venga qui prima che il mio albero abbia sentito la scure, e vi s’impicchi. Vi prego, portate il mio saluto.
FLAVIO	(ai Senatori) Non lo disturbate oltre. Così lo troverete sempre.
TIMONE	Non tornate più da me, ma dite ad Atene che Timone ha fatto la sua eterna dimora sull’orlo battuto dalle onde del flutto salato, che una volta al giorno con la sua spuma rigonfia la marea turbolenta coprirà. Là venite, e sia la mia pietra sepolcrale il vostro oracolo. Labbra, lasciate passare quattro parole, e finisca il linguaggio. Ciò che è guasto, lo emendino peste e infezione. Solo le tombe siano opera degli uomini, e la morte il loro guadagno. Sole, nascondi i tuoi raggi. Timone ha compiuto il suo regno.
(didascalia)	Esce nella sua
(didascalia)	caverna
PRIMO SENATORE	I suoi malumori sono inamovibilmente congiunti alla sua natura.
SECONDO SENATORE	La nostra speranza in lui è morta. Torniamo indietro, e mettiamo alla prova quali altri mezzi ci restino nel nostro grave pericolo.
PRIMO SENATORE	Richiede piede veloce.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger
(didascalia)	THIRD SENATOR
(didascalia)	Thou hast painfully discovered. Are his files As full as thy report?
MESSENGER	I have spoke the least. Besides, his expedition promises Present approach.
(didascalia)	FOURTH SENATOR
MESSENGER	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 opposed, Yet our old love made 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 moved.
(didascalia)	Enter the other Senators
(didascalia)	THIRD SENATOR
MESSENGER	Here come our brothers.
(didascalia)	FIRST SENATOR
MESSENGER	No talk of Timon; nothing of him expect. The enemy’s drum is heard, and fearful scouring Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare. Ours is the fall, I fear, our foe’s the snare. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano altri due Senatori, con un Messaggero
(didascalia)	TERZO SENATORE
(didascalia)	Faticosamente hai scoperto. Sono le sue schiere tanto piene quanto il tuo rapporto?
MESSAGGERO	Ho detto il meno. Inoltre, la sua speditezza promette un arrivo immediato.
(didascalia)	QUARTO SENATORE
MESSAGGERO	Corriamo grave rischio se non riportano Timone.
MESSAGGERO	Incontrai un corriere, un mio antico amico, col quale, benché in generale fossimo di parti opposte, pure il nostro vecchio affetto esercitò una forza particolare e ci fece parlare da amici. Quest’uomo cavalcava da Alcibiade alla caverna di Timone con lettere di supplica che portavano la sua alleanza nella causa contro la vostra città, mossa in parte per amor suo.
(didascalia)	Entrano gli altri Senatori
(didascalia)	TERZO SENATORE
MESSAGGERO	Ecco che vengono i nostri fratelli.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SENATORE
MESSAGGERO	Non si parli di Timone; nulla ci si aspetti da lui. Il tamburo del nemico si ode, e una spaventosa scorreria soffoca l’aria di polvere. Dentro, e prepariamoci. Nostra è la caduta, temo, del nemico la rete. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Soldier, in the woods, seeking Timon
SOLDIER	By all description, this should be the place. Who’s here? Speak, ho! No answer?
(didascalia)	He discovers a gravestone
SOLDIER	What is this? 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 aged interpreter, though young in days. Before proud Athens he’s set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra un Soldato, nel bosco, in cerca di Timone
SOLDATO	Da ogni descrizione, questo dovrebbe essere il luogo. Chi è qui? Parla, ehi! Nessuna risposta?
(didascalia)	Scopre una pietra sepolcrale
SOLDATO	Che cos’è questo? Morto, certo, e questa la sua tomba. Ciò che sta su questo sepolcro non so leggerlo. I caratteri li rileverò con la cera. Il nostro capitano ha perizia d’ogni scrittura, interprete maturo, benché giovane d’anni. Davanti alla superba Atene s’è ormai accampato, la cui caduta è il segno della sua ambizione. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers, before Athens
(didascalia)	Sound to this coward and lascivious town
ALCIBIADES	Our terrible approach. A parley sounds. The Senators appear upon the walls Till now you have gone on and filled 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 wandered with our traversed arms, and breathed 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 promised 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 received your grief; 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 destined 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, revenges. 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 rampired gates and they shall ope, So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before To say thou’lt 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 sealed thy full desire.
(didascalia)	ALCIBIADES throwing up a glove
SECOND SENATOR	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 remedied to your public laws At heaviest answer.
BOTH SENATORS	’Tis most nobly spoken.
ALCIBIADES	Descend, and keep your words.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Exeunt Senators from the walls.
(didascalia)	Enter Soldier, with a tablet of wax
SOLDIER	My noble general, Timon is dead, Entombed upon the very hem o’th’ sea; And on his gravestone this insculpture, which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance. Alcibiades reads the epitaph
ALCIBIADES	‘Here lies a wretched corpse, 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 abhorred‘st in us our human griefs, Scorned’st our brains’ 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Senators through the gates
ALCIBIADES	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.
(didascalia)	Drums. Exeunt through
ALCIBIADES	the
(didascalia)	gates
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE	(ADAPTED BY THOMAS MIDDLETON)
SHORTLY	after James VI of Scotland succeeded to the English throne, in 1603, he gave his patronage to Shakespeare’s company; the Lord Chamberlain’s Men became the King’s Men, entering into a special relationship with their sovereign. Macbeth is the play of Shakespeare’s that most clearly reflects this relationship. James regarded the virtuous and noble Banquo, Macbeth’s comrade at the start of the action, as his direct ancestor; eight Stuart kings were said to have preceded James, just as, in the play, Banquo points to ‘a show of eight kings’ as his descendants (4.1.127.1-140); and in the play the English king (historically Edward the Confessor) is praised for the capacity, on which James also prided himself, to cure ’the king’s evil’ (scrofula). Macbeth is obviously a Jacobean play, composed probably in 1606. But the first printed text, in the 1623 Folio, shows signs of having been adapted at a later date. It is exceptionally short by comparison with Shakespeare’s other tragedies; and it includes episodes which there is good reason to believe are not by Shakespeare. Most conspicuous are Act 3, Scene 5 and parts of Act 4, Scene I: 38.I-60 and 141-8.1. These episodes feature Hecate, who does not appear elsewhere in the play; they are composed largely in octosyllabic couplets in a style conspicuously different from the rest of the play; and they call for the performance of two songs that are found in The Witch, a play of uncertain date by Thomas Middleton. Probably Middleton himself adapted Shakespeare’s play some years after its first performance, adding these and more localized details, and cutting the play elsewhere. We do not attempt to excise passages most clearly written by Middleton, because the adapter’s hand almost certainly affected the text at other, less determinable points. The Folio text of Macbeth cites only the opening words of the songs; drawing on The Witch, we attempt a reconstruction of their staging in Macbeth. Shakespeare took materials for his story from the account in Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicle of the reigns of Duncan and Macbeth (AD 1034-57). Occasionally (especially in the English episodes of Act 4, Scene 2) he closely followed Holinshed’s wording, but essentially the play’s structure is his own. He invented the framework of the three witches who tempted both Macbeth and Banquo with prophecies of greatness. His Macbeth is both more introspective and more intensely evil than the competent warrior-king portrayed by Holinshed; conversely, Shakespeare made Duncan, the king whom Macbeth murders, far more venerable and saintly. Some of the play’s features, notably the character of Lady Macbeth, originate in Holinshed’s account of the murder of an earlier Scottish king, Duff; he was killed in his castle at Forres by Donwald, who had been ‘set on’ by his wife. Macbeth is an exciting story of witchcraft, murder, and retribution that can also be seen as a study in the philosophy and psychology of evil. The witches are not easily made credible in modern performances, and Shakespeare seems deliberately to have drained colour away from some parts of his composition in order to concentrate attention on Macbeth and his Lady. It is Macbeth’s neurotic self-absorption, his fear, his anger, and his despair, along with his wife’s steely determination, her invoking of the powers of evil, and her eventual revelation in sleep of her repressed humanity, that have given the play its long-proven power to fascinate readers and to challenge performers.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY
KING DUNCAN	of Scotland A CAPTAIN in Duncan’s army MACBETH, Thane of Glamis, later Thane of Cawdor, then King of Scotland A PORTER at Macbeth’s castle Three MURDERERS attending on Macbeth SEYTON, servant of Macbeth
LADY	MACBETH, Macbeth’s wife BANQUO, a Scottish thane FLEANCE, his son MACDUFF, Thane of Fife
LADY	MACDUFF, his wife
MACDUFF’S SON	SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland
YOUNG	SIWARD, his son An English DOCTOR HECATE, Queen of the Witches Six WITCHES Three APPARITIONS, one an armed head, one a bloody child, one a child crowned A SPIRIT LIKE A CAT Other SPIRITS An OLD MAN A MESSENGER
SERVANTS	A show of eight kings; Lords and Thanes, attendants, soldiers, drummers

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillano le trombe. Entra Alcibiade con le sue forze, davanti ad Atene
(didascalia)	Annunciate a questa città codarda e lasciva
ALCIBIADE	il nostro terribile arrivo. Si suona a parlamento. I Senatori appaiono sulle mura Fino ad ora avete proseguito e riempito il tempo con ogni licenziosa misura, facendo dei vostri voleri l’ambito della giustizia. Fino ad ora io stesso e quelli che dormivano nell’ombra del vostro potere abbiamo errato con le braccia conserte, e sfogato invano la nostra sofferenza. Ora il tempo è colmo in cui il midollo accucciato, forte in chi lo porta, grida da sé ‘Basta’; ora il torto senza fiato siederà ansante nelle vostre grandi poltrone d’agio, e l’insolenza panciuta perderà il fiato per la paura e per l’orrida fuga.
PRIMO SENATORE	Nobile e giovane, quando i tuoi primi dolori non erano che un’idea, prima che tu avessi potere o noi motivo di timore, mandammo da te a dar balsamo alle tue collere, a cancellare la nostra ingratitudine con affetti superiori alla loro misura.
SECONDO SENATORE	Così corteggiammo il trasformato Timone all’amore della nostra città con umile messaggio e con mezzi promessi. Non fummo tutti ingrati, né tutti meritiamo il colpo indiscriminato della guerra.
PRIMO SENATORE	Queste nostre mura non furono erette dalle mani di coloro dai quali tu hai ricevuto il tuo dolore; né sono tali che queste grandi torri, trofei e scuole debbano cadere per le colpe private che sono in essi.
SECONDO SENATORE	Né sono vivi coloro che furono i motivi per cui uscisti dapprima. La vergogna che mancasse loro l’accortezza, in eccesso, ha spezzato i loro cuori. Marcia, nobile signore, nella nostra città con le tue insegne spiegate. Per decimazione e per una morte a decime, se le tue vendette hanno fame di quel cibo che la natura aborre, prenditi il decimo destinato, e per l’azzardo del dado macchiato muoiano i macchiati.
PRIMO SENATORE	Non tutti hanno offeso. Per coloro che furono, non è giusto prendere vendette su coloro che sono. I delitti, come le terre, non s’ereditano. Dunque, caro concittadino, fa’ entrare le tue schiere, ma lascia fuori la tua ira. Risparmia la tua culla ateniese e quei congiunti che, nella burrasca del tuo furore, dovrebbero cadere insieme a chi ha offeso. Come un pastore accostati all’ovile e scegli fuori gli infetti, ma non uccidere tutti insieme.
SECONDO SENATORE	Ciò che vorrai, lo imporrai piuttosto col tuo sorriso che aprendotene la via con la tua spada.
PRIMO SENATORE	Poni solo il tuo piede contro le nostre porte fortificate e s’apriranno, purché tu mandi innanzi il tuo cuore gentile a dire che entrerai da amico.
SECONDO SENATORE	Getta il tuo guanto, o qualunque altro pegno del tuo onore, che userai la guerra come tua riparazione, e non come nostra rovina. Tutte le tue forze prenderanno alloggio nella nostra città finché non avremo suggellato ogni tuo desiderio.
(didascalia)	ALCIBIADE gettando in alto un guanto
SECONDO SENATORE	Ecco dunque il mio guanto. Scendete, e aprite le vostre porte non assalite. Quei nemici di Timone e miei che voi stessi indicherete al castigo cadano, e nessun altro; e per placare i vostri timori col mio più nobile intento, non un uomo oltrepasserà il suo quartiere o offenderà il corso della regolare giustizia entro i confini della vostra città senza esser consegnato alle vostre leggi pubbliche per la più grave risposta.
ENTRAMBI I SENATORI	È detto nobilissimamente.
ALCIBIADE	Scendete, e mantenete la parola.
(didascalia)	Squillano le trombe. Escono i Senatori dalle mura.
(didascalia)	Entra il Soldato, con una tavoletta di cera
SOLDATO	Mio nobile generale, Timone è morto, sepolto proprio sull’orlo del mare; e sulla sua pietra sepolcrale quest’iscrizione, che con la cera ho riportato, la cui morbida impronta interpreta per la mia povera ignoranza. Alcibiade legge l’epitaffio
ALCIBIADE	‘Qui giace un misero cadavere, privato d’una misera anima. Non cercare il mio nome. La peste consumi voi malvagi miserabili rimasti! Qui giaccio io, Timone, che da vivo odiai tutti i viventi. Passa oltre e maledici a sazietà, ma passa e non fermare qui il tuo passo.’ Queste bene esprimono in te i tuoi ultimi umori. Benché tu aborrissi in noi i nostri umani dolori, e disprezzassi il flusso dei nostri cervelli e quelle nostre goccioline che cadono dall’avara natura, pure una ricca invenzione t’insegnò a far piangere in eterno il vasto Nettuno sulla tua bassa tomba, su colpe perdonate. Morto è il nobile Timone, della cui memoria si dirà più oltre.
(didascalia)	Entrano i Senatori attraverso le porte
ALCIBIADE	Conducetemi nella vostra città, e userò l’ulivo insieme alla mia spada, farò che la guerra generi pace, che la pace freni la guerra, che ciascuna prescriva all’altra come medico dell’altra. Rullino i nostri tamburi.
(didascalia)	Tamburi. Escono attraverso
ALCIBIADE	le
(didascalia)	porte