The Life of Timon of Athens - Уильям Шекспир 2 стр.

What trumpet's that?

'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.

Pray entertain them; give them guide to us.

You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence
Till I have thank'd you; when dinner's done,
Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

Most welcome, sir!

So, so, there!
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
That there should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves,
And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
Into baboon and monkey.

Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.

Right welcome, sir!
Ere we depart we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

Time to be honest.

That time serves still.

The more accursed thou that still omitt'st it.

Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast.

Ay; to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Why, Apemantus?

Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

Hang thyself!

APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

Away, unpeaceable dog! or I'll spurn thee hence.

I will fly, like a dog, the heels of an ass.

He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness.

He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
Is but his steward: no meed but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.

The noblest mind he carries
That ever govern'd man.

Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

I'll keep you company.

Most honour'd Timon,
It hath pleas'd 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 deriv'd liberty.

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.

A noble spirit.

Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd 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.

My lord, we always have confess'd it.

Ho, ho! confess'd it; hang'd it, have you not?

O! Apemantus, you are welcome.

No,
You shall not make me welcome:
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

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 it, indeed.

Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon:
I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.

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 scorn thy meat; 't'would choke me, for I should
Ne'er flatter thee. O you gods! what a number
Of men eats 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 prov'd.
If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

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.

   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.

Most honour'd Timon,
It hath pleas'd 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 deriv'd liberty.

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.

A noble spirit.

Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd 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.

My lord, we always have confess'd it.

Ho, ho! confess'd it; hang'd it, have you not?

O! Apemantus, you are welcome.

No,
You shall not make me welcome:
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

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 it, indeed.

Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon:
I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.

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 scorn thy meat; 't'would choke me, for I should
Ne'er flatter thee. O you gods! what a number
Of men eats 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 prov'd.
If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

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.

   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.

Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

TIMON. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.

ALCIBIADES. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's no meat like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

APEMANTUS. 'Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em.

FIRST LORD. 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.

TIMON. 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 call 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 it can be born. Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you.

Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.

Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
And, at that instant like a babe, sprung up.

Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.

Much!

What means that trump?

How now!

SERVANT. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.

Ladies? What are their wills?
SERVANT. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

I pray, let them be admitted.

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, Smell, pleas'd from thy table rise;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

They are welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:
Music, make their welcome!