The good time of day to you, sir.

I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this

other day.

Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered. I hope it is not

so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.

It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my

near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond

them, and I must needs appear.

In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would

not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my

provision was out.

I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.

Every man here’s so. What would he have borrowed you?

A thousand pieces.

A thousand pieces!

What of you?

He sent to me, sir—here he comes.

With all my heart, gentlemen both! And how fare you?

Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.

[_Aside_.] Nor more willingly leaves winter, such summer birds are men.

Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay. Feast your

ears with the music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o’ th’

trumpet’s sound; we shall to’t presently.

I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you

an empty messenger.

O, sir, let it not trouble you.

My noble lord—

Ah, my good friend, what cheer?

My most honourable lord, I am e’en sick of shame that when your

lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.

Think not on’t, sir.

If you had sent but two hours before—

Let it not cumber your better remembrance.

Come, bring in all together.

All covered dishes!

Royal cheer, I warrant you.

Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.

How do you? What’s the news?

Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?

Alcibiades banished?

’Tis so, be sure of it.

How, how?

I pray you, upon what?

My worthy friends, will you draw near?

I’ll tell you more anon. Here’s a noble feast toward.

This is the old man still.

Will’t hold, will’t hold?

It does, but time will—and so—

I do conceive.

Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip of his

mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast

of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit,

sit. The gods require our thanks:

You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your

own gifts make yourselves praised, but reserve still to give, lest your

deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to

another; for, were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake

the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let

no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit

twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest

of your foes, O gods, the senators of Athens, together with the common

lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for

destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing,

so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome.

Uncover, dogs, and lap.

What does his lordship mean?

I know not.

May you a better feast never behold,

You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water

Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last,

Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,

Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces

Your reeking villainy.

Live loathed, and long,

Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,

Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,

You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies,

Cap-and-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!

Of man and beast the infinite malady

Crust you quite o’er! [_They stand_.] What, dost thou go?

Soft! Take thy physic first; thou too, and thou!

Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.

What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast

Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest.

Burn, house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be

Of Timon man and all humanity!

How now, my lords?

Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?

Push! Did you see my cap?

I have lost my gown.

He’s but a mad lord, and nought but humours sways him. He gave me a

jewel th’ other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat. Did you see

my jewel?

Did you see my cap?

Here ’tis.

Here lies my gown.

Let’s make no stay.

Lord Timon’s mad.

I feel’t upon my bones.

One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.