Timon of Athens - William Shakespeare [books to read romance txt] 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
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So it may prove an argument of laughter
To the rest, and ’mongst lords I be thought a fool.
I’ld rather than the worth of thrice the sum,
Had 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. 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 employ’d
Now to guard sure their master.
And this is all a liberal course allows;
Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house. Exit.
The same. A hall in Timon’s house.
Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of Lucius, meeting Titus, Hortensius, and other Servants of Timon’s creditors, waiting his coming out. Varro’s First Servant Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius. Titus The like to you, kind Varro. HortensiusLucius!
What, do we meet together?
Ay, and I think
One business does command us all; for mine
Is money.
Welcome, good brother.
What do you think the hour?
Ay, but the days are wax’d 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.
I’ll show you how to observe a strange event.
Your lord sends now for money.
And he wears jewels now of Timon’s gift,
For which I wait for money.
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.
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.
’Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sum,
Your master’s confidence was above mine;
Else, surely, his had equall’d.
Ha! is not that his steward muffled so?
He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.
Ay,
If money were as certain as your waiting,
’Twere sure enough.
Why then preferr’d you not your sums and bills,
When your false masters eat of my lord’s meat?
Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts
And take down the interest into their gluttonous maws.
You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up;
Let me pass quietly:
Believe’t, my lord and I have made an end;
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
If ’twill not serve, ’tis not so base as you;
For you serve knaves. Exit.
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.
What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
Have I been ever free, and must my house
Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?
The place which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
Five thousand drops pays that.
What yours?—and yours?
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