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Copyright © 2016 by William Shakespeare
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Timon of Athens
Characters of the Play
Act I
Scene I. Athens. A hall in Timon’s house.
Scene II. A banqueting-room in Timon’s house.
Act II
Scene I. A Senator’s house.
Scene II. The same. A hall in Timon’s house.
Act III
Scene I. A room in Lucullus’ house.
Scene II. A public place.
Scene III. A room in Sempronius’ house.
Scene IV. The same. A hall in Timon’s house.
Scene V. The same. The senate-house. The Senate sitting.
Scene VI. The same. A banqueting-room in Timon’s house.
Act IV
Scene I. Without the walls of Athens.
Scene II. Athens. A room in Timon’s house.
Scene III. Woods and cave, near the seashore.
Act V
Scene I. The woods. Before Timon’s cave.
Scene II. Before the walls of Athens.
Scene III. The woods. Timon’s cave, and a rude tomb seen.
Scene IV. Before the walls of Athens.
Timon of Athens
By
William Shakespeare
Timon of Athens
Published by Masquerade Press
New York City, NY
First published 1623
Copyright © Masquerade Press, 2015
All rights reserved
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
About Masquerade Press
Masquerade Presspublishes the greatest dramas ever written and performed, from the Ancient Greek playwrights to icons like Shakespeare and modern poets like Oscar Wilde.
Timon of Athens.
Lucius, Lucullus and Sempronius, flattering lords.
Ventidius, one of Timon’s false friends.
Alcibiades, an Athenian captain.
Apemantus, a churlish philosopher.
Flavius, steward to Timon.
Flaminius, Lucilius and Servilius, Timon’s servants.
Caphis, Philotus, Titus and Hortensius, servants to Timon’s creditors.
Poet.
Painter.
Jeweller.
Merchant.
Mercer.
An Old Athenian.
Three Strangers.
A Page.
A Fool.
Phrynia and Timandra, mistresses to Alcibiades.
Cupid and Amazons, in the Masque.
Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Servants, Thieves, and Attendants.
Scene: Athens and the neighbouring woods.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, 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. I know the merchant.
Painter
I know them both; th’ other’s a jeweller.
Merchant
O, ’tis a worthy lord.
Jeweller
Nay, that’s most fix’d.
Merchant
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.
Jeweller: I have a jewel here —
Merchant
O, pray, let’s see’t: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweller: If he will touch the estimate: but, for that —
Poet
[Reciting to himself] ‘When we for recompense have praised the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.’
Merchant
’Tis a good form.
Looking at the jewel
Jeweller
And rich: here is a water, look ye.
Painter
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.
Poet
A thing slipp’d idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence ’tis nourish’d: the fire i’ the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself and like the current flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Painter
A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
Poet
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let’s see your piece.
Painter
’Tis a good piece.
Poet
So ’tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Painter
Indifferent.
Poet
Admirable: how this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
Painter
It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; is’t good?
Poet
I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over
Painter
How this lord is follow’d!
Poet
The senators of Athens: happy man!
Painter
Look, more!
Poet
You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, 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 wax: no levell’d malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.
Painter
How shall I understand you?
Poet
I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery creatures as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-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
Feign’d Fortune to be throned: the base o’ the mount
Is rank’d with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix’d,
One do I personate of Lord Timon’s frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.
Painter
’Tis conceived to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon’d from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the sleepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express’d
In our condition.
Poet
Nay, sir, but hear me on.
All those which were his fellows but of late,
Some better than his value, on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.
Painter
Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet
When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
Which labour’d after him to the mountain’s top
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Painter
’Tis common:
A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune’s
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from Ventidius talking with him; Lucilius and other servants following
Timon
Imprison’d is he, say you?
Messenger
Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,
His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing,
Periods his comfort.
Timon
Noble Ventidius! Well;
I am not of that feather to shake 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
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
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’ the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I 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 endow’d, if she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Athenian
Three talents on the present; in future, all.
Timon
This gentleman of mine hath 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
The state or fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you!
Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian
Poet
Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Timon
I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
Painter
A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.
Timon
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man;
or since dishonour traffics with man’s nature,
He is but outside: these pencill’d figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
Painter
The gods preserve ye!
Timon
Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;
We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer’d under praise.
Jeweller
What, my lord! dispraise?
Timon
A more satiety of commendations.
If I should pay you for’t as ’tis extoll’d,
It would unclew me quite.
Jeweller
My lord, ’tis rated
As those which sell would give: but you well know,
Things of like value differing in the owners
Are prized by their masters: believe’t, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
Timon
Well mock’d.
Merchant
No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.
Timon
Look, who comes here: will you be chid?
Enter Apemantus
Jeweller: We’ll bear, with your lordship.
Merchant
He’ll spare none.
Timon
Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apemantus
Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;