The Life of Timon of Athens. Уильям Шекспир

hunt with him; and let them be receiv’d,

      Not without fair reward.

      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 forc’d out!

      Happier he that has no friend to feed

      Than such that do e’en enemies exceed.

      I bleed inwardly for my lord.

      [Exit.]

      TIMON.

      You do yourselves much wrong;

      You bate too much of your own merits;

      Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.

      SECOND LORD.

      With more than common thanks I will receive it.

      THIRD LORD.

      O! he’s the very soul of bounty!

      TIMON.

      And now I remember, my lord, you gave

      Good words the other day of a bay courser

      I rode on: it is yours because you lik’d it.

      THIRD LORD.

      O! I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.

      TIMON.

      You may take my word, my lord: I know no man

      Can justly praise but what he does affect:

      I weigh my friend’s affection with mine own.

      I’ll tell you true; I’ll call to you.

      ALL LORDS.

      O! none so welcome!

      TIMON.

      I take all and your several visitations

      So kind to heart, ’tis not enough to give;

      Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends,

      And ne’er be weary. Alcibiades,

      Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich;

      It comes in charity to thee; for all thy living

      Is ‘mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast

      Lie in a pitch’d field.

      ALCIBIADES.

      Ay, defil’d land, my lord.

      FIRST LORD.

      We are so virtuously bound,–

      TIMON.

      And so am I to you.

      SECOND LORD.

      So infinitely endear’d,–

      TIMON.

      All to you. Lights, more lights!

      FIRST LORD.

      The best of happiness,

      Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!

      TIMON.

      Ready for his friends.

      [Exeunt 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