Timon Of Athens

William Shakespeare

• Editore: HarperPerennial Classics
• Anno: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781443443579
• Argomento: Letteratura
• Categoria: Teatro

Known for his generosity, Timon of Athens's largesse is frequently exploited by those who seek to benefit from his fortunes. But when Timon's fortune is exhausted, and he is forced to seek assistance from those who he has helped in the past, he quickly learns who his true friends are.

Known as "The Bard of Avon, " William Shakespeare is arguably the greatest English-language writer known. Enormously popular during his life, Shakespeare's works continue to resonate more than three centuries after his death, as has his influence on theatre and literature. Shakespeare's innovative use of character, language, and experimentation with romance as tragedy served as a foundation for later playwrights and dramatists, and some of his most famous lines of dialogue have become part of everyday speech.

HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

ACT FOUR

SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens.

Enter TIMON.

TIMON Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall

That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth

And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent.

Obedience, fail in children! Slaves and fools,

[5]

Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench

And minister in their steads. To general filths

Convert, o’ th’ instant, green virginity.

Do’t in your parents’ eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast;

Rather than render back, out with your knives

[10]

And cut your trusters’ throats. Bound servants, steal:

Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,

And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed:

Thy mistress is o’ th’ brothel. Son of sixteen,

Pluck the lin’d crutch from thy old limping sire,

[15]

With it beat out his brains. Piety and fear,

Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,

[20]

Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,

Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,

Degrees, observances, customs and laws,

Decline to your confounding contraries

And let confusion live. Plagues incident to men,

Your potent and infectious fevers heap

On Athens, ripe for stroke. Thou cold sciatica,

Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt

[25]

As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty,

Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;

That ’gainst the stream of virtue they may strive

And drown themselves in riot. Itches, Mains,

Sow all th’ Athenian bosoms, and their crop

[30]

Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,

That their society, as their friendship, may

Be merely poison! Nothing I’ll bear from thee

But nakedness, thou detestable town!

Take thou that too, with multiplying bans.

[35]

Timon will to the woods, where he shall find

Th’ unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.

The gods confound — hear me, you good gods all —

The Athenians both within and out that wall!

And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow

[40]

To the whole race of mankind, high and low!

Amen. [Exit.

SCENE II. Athens. Timon’s house.

Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants.

[5]

1 SERVANT Hear you, Master Steward, where’s our master?

Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?

FLAVIUS Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?

Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

I am as poor as you.

1 SERVANT Such a house broke!

So noble a master fall’n! All gone, and not

One friend to take his fortune by the arm

And go along with him?

2 SERVANT As we do turn our backs

From our companion, thrown into his grave,

[10]

So his familiars to his buried fortunes

Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,

Like empty purses pick’d; and his poor self,

A dedicated beggar to the air,

With his disease of all-shunn’d poverty,

[15]

Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

Enter other Servants.

FLAVIUS All broken implements of a ruin’d house.

3 SERVANT Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery;

That see I by our faces. We are fellows still,

Serving alike in sorrow. Leak’d is our bark;

[20]

And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,

Hearing the surges threat. We must all pan

Into this sea of air.

FLAVIUS Good fellows all,

The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you.

Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake,

[25]

Let’s yet be fellows; let’s shake our heads and say,

As ’twere a knell unto our master’s fortune,

‘We have seen better days’. Let each take some.

[Giving them money.

Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more!

Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

[Embrace, and part several ways.

[30]

O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!

Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,

Since riches point to misery and contempt?

Who would be so mock’d with glory, or to live

But in a dream of friendship,

[35]

To have his pomp, and all what state compounds,

But only painted, like his varnish’d friends?

Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,

Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,

When man’s worst sin is he does too much good!

[40]

Who then dares to be half so kind again?

For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.

My dearest lord — blest to be most accurst,

Rich only to be wretched — thy great fortunes

Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!

[45]

He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat

Of monstrous friends; nor has he with him to

Supply his life, or that which can command it.

I’ll follow and enquire him out.

I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will;

[50]

Whilst I have gold. I’ll be his steward still.

[Exit.

SCENE III. The woods near the sea-shore. Before Timon’s cave.

Enter TIMON in the woods.

TIMON O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth

Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb

Infect the air! Twinn’d brothers of one womb —

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

[5]

Scarce is dividant — touch them with several fortunes:

The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune

But by contempt of nature.

Raise me this beggar and deny’t that lord:

[10]

The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

The beggar native honour.

It is the pasture lards the rother’s sides,

The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

In purity of manhood stand upright,

[15]

And say ‘This man’s a flatterer? If one be,

So are they all; for every grise of fortune

Is smooth’d by th...