The Life of Timon of Athens

Автор

Уильям Шекспир

Жанр

Европейская старинная литература

Год написания книги

2017

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TIMON

And so am I to you.

SECOND LORD

So infinitely endear'd, —

TIMON

All to you. Lights, more lights!

FIRST LORD

The best of happiness,
Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!

TIMON

Ready for his friends.

[Exeunt ALCIBIADES, Lords, and etc.].]

APEMANTUS

What a coil's here!
Serving of becks and jutting out of bums!
I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs:
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs.
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies.

TIMON

Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I would be good to thee.

APEMANTUS. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly: What needs these feasts, pomps, and vain-glories?
TIMON. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music.

[Exit.]

APEMANTUS

So: Thou wilt not hear me now; thou shalt not then;
I'll lock thy heaven from thee.
O! that men's ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!

[Exit.]

Act II

Scene I. Athens. A Room in a SENATOR'S House

[Enter A SENATOR, with papers in his hand.]

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 found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say!

[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 ceas'd
With slight denial, nor then silenc'd 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 toss'd and turn'd 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,