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Most honour’d 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.
Most honored Timon, The gods have been kind enough to remember my father’s old age, And give him peace for a long time. He has gone happily, and left me rich: Then, out of gratitude, I feel I must return The money you gave me, doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I gained my freedom.
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.
Oh, not at all, Honest Ventidius; you misunderstand my kindness: I gave it freely, always; and no one Can truly say he gives, if he expects something in return: If those above us play that game, we shouldn’t try To copy them; faults that are rich are still considered good.
A noble spirit!
A noble spirit!
Nay, my lords,
No, 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.
Ceremony was only created at first To make weak actions look better, empty greetings, Reversing kindness before it’s even shown; But where there’s true friendship, none of that is needed. Please, sit down; you’re more welcome to my fortunes Than my fortunes are to me.
My lord, we always have confess’d it.
My lord, we’ve always admitted that.
Ho, ho, confess’d it! hang’d it, have you not?
Oh, you’ve admitted it! You’ve condemned it, haven’t you?
O, Apemantus, you are welcome.
Oh, Apemantus, you are welcome.
No; You shall not make me welcome: I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
No; You won’t make me feel welcome: I’m here to get you to throw me out.
Fie, thou’rt a churl; ye’ve got a humour there Does not become a man: ’tis much to blame. They say, my lords, ’ira furor brevis est;’ but yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is he fit for’t, indeed.
Shame on you, you’re rude; you’ve got an attitude there That doesn’t suit a man: it’s wrong. They say, my lords, “anger is a brief madness;” but that man is always angry. Go, let him sit at a table alone, For he neither wants company, nor is He fit for it, honestly.
Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to observe; I give thee warning on’t.
Let me stay at your risk, Timon: I’m here to Watch; I warn you about it.
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.
I don’t care about you; you’re an Athenian, So you’re welcome: I myself would rather have no power; Please, let my food make you quiet.
I scorn thy meat; ’twould choke me, for I should ne’er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees ’em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men: Methinks they should invite them without knives; Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There’s much example for’t; the fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him: ’t has been proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; Lest they should spy my windpipe’s dangerous notes: Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
I reject your food; it would choke me, because I could Never flatter you. Oh, gods, how many men consume Timon, and he doesn’t see it! It pains me to watch so many dip their food in one man’s blood; And the crazy part is, he encourages them too. I don’t understand how men can trust other men: I think they should invite them without knives; It’s better for their food, and safer for their lives. There’s plenty of proof for it; the man sitting Next to him right now, breaks bread with him, shares his Breath in a divided drink, is the first to Kill him: it’s been proven. If I were a Huge man, I’d be afraid to drink at meals; Lest they notice the dangerous sound of my windpipe: Great men should drink with armor around their throats.
My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.
My lord, in spirit; and let the drink go around.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Flow this way! A brave fellow! he keeps his tides well. Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here’s that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne’er left man i’ the mire: This and my food are equals; there’s no odds: Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. Apemantus’ grace. Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; I pray for no man but myself: Grant I may never prove so fond, To trust man on his oath or bond; Or a harlot, for her weeping; Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping: Or a keeper with my freedom; Or my friends, if I should need ’em. Amen. So fall to’t: Rich men sin, and I eat root.
Flow this way! A bold man! he controls his passions well. Those drinks will make you and your position look bad, Timon. Here’s something too weak to be a sinner, just plain water, which never left a man in the dirt: This and my meal are the same; there’s no difference: Feasts are too proud to thank the gods. Apemantus’ blessing. Immortal gods, I don’t want money; I don’t pray for anyone but myself: Let me never be so foolish, To trust a man on his promise or bond; Or a woman, because she’s crying; Or a dog that looks like it’s asleep: Or a jailer with my freedom; Or my friends, if I ever need them. Amen. Now, eat: Rich men sin, and I eat roots.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
Much good health to your kind heart, Apemantus!
Captain Alcibiades, your heart’s in the field now.
Captain Alcibiades, your heart is out in the field right now.
My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
My heart is always at your service, my lord.
You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.
You’d rather be at a breakfast with enemies than a dinner with friends.
So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there’s no meat like ’em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.
Even if they were just wounded, my lord, there’s no meat like them: I’d wish my best friend was at such a feast.
Would all those fatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill ’em and bid me to ’em!
I wish all those flatterers were your enemies then, so you could kill them and invite me to their feast!
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.
If we could only have that happiness, my lord, that you would trust us with your heart, so we could show some of our zeal, we would consider ourselves forever grateful.
O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you: how had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should ne’er have need of ’em? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne’er have use for ’em, and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we can 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, e’en made away ere ’t can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.
Oh, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have arranged that I shall have much help from you: how else could you be my friends? why do you have that kind title from so many, if you didn’t belong to my heart? I’ve told myself more about you than you could modestly say for yourselves; and I confirm you now. Oh gods, I think, what need do we have of friends, if we never need them? they’d be the most useless creatures alive, if we never needed them, and would just be like sweet instruments locked away, keeping their sound to themselves. Why, I’ve often wished I were poorer, so I could be closer to you. We are born to do good: and what better or more fitting can we give than the wealth of our friends? Oh, what a precious comfort it is, to have so many, like brothers, controlling each other’s fortunes! Oh joy, already gone before it can be enjoyed! My eyes can’t hold back tears, I think: to forget their mistakes, I drink to you.
Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.
You’re crying to make them drink, Timon.
Joy had the like conception in our eyes And at that instant like a babe sprung up.
Joy was born in our eyes And, in that instant, like a baby, sprang up.
Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.
Ha, ha! I laugh to think that baby is a bastard.
I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.
I promise you, my lord, you moved me greatly.
Much!
A lot!
What means that trump?
What’s that trumpet for?
How now?
What’s going on?
Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.
My lord, there are some ladies who really want to come in.
Ladies! what are their wills?
Ladies! What do they want?
There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.
There’s someone with them, my lord, who’s in charge of telling us what they want.
I pray, let them be admitted.
Please, let them in.
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 and smell, pleased from thy tale rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Hello, worthy Timon! And hello to everyone Who enjoys his generosity! The five senses All call you their patron; and now they’ve come freely To praise your abundant kindness. The ear, Taste, touch, and smell, all rise in joy at your story; They’ve come only to please your eyes now.
They’re welcome all; let ’em have kind admittance: Music, make their welcome!
They’re all welcome; let them in with kindness: Music, make them feel at home!
You see, my lord, how ample you’re beloved.
You see, my lord, how much you’re loved.
Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance! they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life. As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; And spend our flatteries, to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again, With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friends’ gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me: ’t has been done; Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
Wow, look at all this silliness coming our way! They’re dancing! They’re mad women. This is like the madness of life’s glory. Just like this show, which is nothing more than a bit of oil and root. We make ourselves fools, just to entertain ourselves; And waste our compliments, to impress the very men Who, when they get old, we just throw it all back in their faces, With bitterness and jealousy. Who lives that isn’t corrupted or corrupts others? Who dies, without carrying some insult to their grave, From the gifts of their friends? I fear that those who are dancing before me now Might one day walk all over me: it’s happened before; People close their doors to the setting sun.
You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, Which was not half so beautiful and kind; You have added worth unto ’t and lustre, And entertain’d me with mine own device; I am to thank you for ’t.
You’ve done us a great honor, beautiful ladies, You’ve set a lovely tone for our gathering, Which wasn’t nearly as nice or kind before; You’ve made it more valuable and bright, And entertained me with my own idea; I owe you my thanks for that.
My lord, you take us even at the best.
My lord, you see us at our very best.
’Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold taking, I doubt me.
Honestly, the worst is disgusting; and I wouldn’t even bother with it, I’m sure.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you: Please you to dispose yourselves.
Ladies, there’s a useless feast waiting for you: Feel free to leave whenever you wish.
Most thankfully, my lord.
We’re very grateful, my lord.
Flavius.
Flavius.
My lord?
My lord?
The little casket bring me hither.
Bring me the little chest.
Yes, my lord. More jewels yet! There is no crossing him in ’s humour;
Yes, my lord. More jewels still! There’s no changing his mood;
Else I should tell him,--well, i’ faith I should, When all’s spent, he ’ld be cross’d then, an he could. ’Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, That man might ne’er be wretched for his mind.
Otherwise, I’d tell him—well, honestly I would, When everything’s gone, he’d be upset, if he could. It’s a shame generosity doesn’t have eyes in the back of its head, So that a man could never be miserable because of his own foolishness.
Where be our men?
Where are our men?
Here, my lord, in readiness.
Here, my lord, ready to go.
Our horses!
Our horses!
O my friends, I have one word to say to you: look you, my good lord, I must entreat you, honour me so much As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it, Kind my lord.
Oh my friends, I have something to say to you: look, my good lord, I need to ask you, please do me the honor Of accepting this jewel; take it and wear it, My dear lord.
I am so far already in your gifts,--
I am already deeply indebted to you with your gifts,--
So are we all.
So are we all.
My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate Newly alighted, and come to visit you.
My lord, some noblemen from the senate Have just arrived and come to visit you.
They are fairly welcome.
They are very welcome.
I beseech your honour, Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.
I beg your honor, Please let me speak to you; it’s something important.
Near! why then, another time I’ll hear thee: I prithee, let’s be provided to show them entertainment.
Important? Well, another time I’ll listen to you: Please, let’s get ready to host them Properly.
[Aside] I scarce know how.
[Aside] I hardly know how.
May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you Four milk-white horses, trapp’d in silver.
If it pleases your honor, Lord Lucius, Out of his kindness, has given you Four white horses, decorated with silver.
I shall accept them fairly; let the presents Be worthily entertain’d.
I’ll accept them graciously; let the gifts Be properly received.
How now! what news?
What’s the news?
Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
My lord, the honorable man, Lord Lucullus, invites you to join him tomorrow for a hunt, and has sent you two pairs of greyhounds.
I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received, Not without fair reward.
I’ll hunt with him, and make sure they’re accepted, but only if there’s a fair reward for it.
[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.
[Aside] What will this lead to? He tells us to provide and give out big gifts, but all from an empty purse: And he won’t even see his own money or give me this, To show him what a beggar he is inside, Having no power to make his wishes come true: His promises are so beyond his means That everything he says is in debt; he owes For every word: he’s so generous now That he’s paying interest on it; his land’s being counted in their books. Well, I wish I were gently removed from my position Before I was forced out! He who has no friend to feed is luckier Than those whose friends surpass even enemies. I’m hurting inside for my lord.
You do yourselves Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits: Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
You’re doing yourselves a great disservice, you’re undervaluing your own worth: Here, my lord, a small token of our affection.
With more than common thanks I will receive it.
I’ll accept it with more thanks than usual.
O, he’s the very soul of bounty!
Oh, he’s the very heart of generosity!
And now I remember, my lord, you gave Good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it.
And now I remember, my lord, you praised the bay horse I rode the other day: It’s yours, because you liked it.
O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.
Oh, please, forgive me, my lord, for that.
You may take my word, my lord; I know, no man Can justly praise but what he does affect: I weigh my friend’s affection with mine own; I’ll tell you true. I’ll call to you.
You can trust me, my lord; I know no one can honestly praise something unless they really like it: I measure my friend’s feelings by my own; I’ll be honest with you. I’ll speak to you openly.
O, none so welcome.
Oh, none are more welcome.
I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, ’tis not enough to give; Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And ne’er be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich; It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitch’d field.
I take all your visits to heart, they’re so kind; it’s not enough just to give; It seems I could give kingdoms to my friends, And never tire of it. Alcibiades, You’re a soldier, so you’re rarely rich; Your wealth comes through charity: all your life Is among the dead, and all the land you own Is in a battlefield.
Ay, defiled land, my lord.
Yes, defiled land, my lord.
We are so virtuously bound--
We are so morally bound--
And so Am I to you.
And so Am I to you.
So infinitely endear’d--
So infinitely dear--
All to you. Lights, more lights!
Everything to you. More lights, more lights!
The best of happiness, Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!
I wish you the best of happiness, May honor and fortune stay with you, Lord Timon!
Ready for his friends.
Ready for my friends.
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 court’sies.
What’s all this noise? Serving people bowing and sticking out their butts! I wonder if their legs are worth the money They’re paid for. Friendship is full of filth: I think, dishonest hearts should never have healthy legs, Yet fools like this spend their money on fake politeness.
Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be good to thee.
Now, Apemantus, if you weren’t so gloomy, I’d be nice to you.
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 need these feasts, pomps and vain-glories?
No, I won’t take anything: because if I accepted a bribe, there’d be no one left to criticize you, and then you’d just keep making worse mistakes. You give so much, Timon, I’m afraid you’ll soon give yourself away in writing: what’s the point of all these feasts, ceremonies, and empty glories?
Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music.
If you start criticizing society, I swear I’ll stop listening to you. Goodbye; and come with better music.
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!
Fine: You won’t listen to me now; you won’t later either: I’ll block your path to heaven. Oh, how strange that people’s ears should be deaf to advice, but not to flattery!