Timon Come, spade, show your mettle; stick to it; invite Thesaurus to step up from his retreat.... O God of Wonders! O mystic priests! O lucky Hermes! whence this flood of gold? Sure, ’tis all a dream; methinks ’twill be ashes when I wake. And yet—coined gold, ruddy and heavy, a feast of delight! O gold, the fairest gift to mortal eyes! be it night, or be it day, Thou dost outshine all else like living fire. Come to me, my own, my beloved. I doubt the tale no longer; well might Zeus take the shape of gold; where is the maid that would not open her bosom to receive so fair a lover gliding through the roof?

Talk of Midas, Croesus, Delphic treasures! they were all nothing to Timon and his wealth; why, the Persian King could not match it. My spade, my dearest smock-frock, you must hang, a votive offering to Pan. And now I will buy up this desert corner, and build a tiny castle for my treasure, big enough for me to live in all alone, and, when I am dead, to liein. And be the rule and law of my remaining days to shun all men, be blind to all men, scorn all men. Friendship, hospitality, society, compassion—vain words all. To be moved by another’s tears, to assist another’s need—be such things illegal and immoral. Let me live apart like a wolf; be Timon’s one friend—Timon.

All others are my foes and ill-wishers; to hold communion with them is pollution; to set eyes upon one of them marks the day unholy; let them be to me even as images of bronze or stone. I will receive no herald from them, keep with them no truce; the bounds of my desert are the line they may not cross. Cousin and kinsman, neighbour and countryman—these are dead useless names, wherein fools may find a meaning. Let Timon keep his wealth to himself, scorn all men, and live in solitary luxury, quit of flattery and vulgar praise; let him sacrifice and feast alone, his own associate and neighbour, far fromReading, with Dindorf, ἑκὰς ὤν for ἐκσείων. the world. Yea, when his last day comes, let there be none to close his eyes and lay him out, but himself alone.

Be the name he loves Misanthropus, and the marks whereby he may be known peevishness and spleen, wrath and rudeness and abhorrence. If ever one burning to death should call for help against the flames, let me help—with pitch and oil. If another be swept past me by a winter torrent, and stretch out his hands for aid, then let mine press him down head under, that he never rise again. So shall they receive as they have given. Mover of this resolution—Timon, son of Echecratides of Collytus. Presiding officer—the same Timon. The ayes have it. Let it be law, and duly observed.

All the same, I would give a good deal to have the fact of my enormous wealth generally known; they would all be fit to hang themselves over it.... Why, whatis this? Well, that is quick work. Here they come running from every point of the compass, all dusty and panting; they have smelt out the gold somehow or other. Now, shall I get on top of this knoll, keep up a galling fire of stones from my point of vantage, and get rid of them that way? Or shall I make an exception to my law by parleying with them for once? contempt might hit harder than stones. Yes, I think that is better; I will stay where I am, and receive them. Let us see, who is this in front? Ah, Gnathonides the flatterer; when I asked an alms of him the other day, he offered me a halter; many a cask of my wine has’ he made a beast of himself over. I congratulate him on his speed; first come, first served.

Gnathonides What did I tell them?—Timon was too good a man to be abandoned by Providence. How are you, Timon? as good-looking and good-tempered, as good a fellow, as ever?

Timon And you, Gnathonides, still teaching vultures rapacity, and men cunning?

Gnathonides Ah, he always liked his little joke. But where do you dine? I have brought a new song with me, a march out of the last musical thing on.

Timon It will be a funeral march, then, and a very touching one, with spade obbligato.

Gnathonides What means this? This is assault, Timon; just let me find a witness! ... Oh, my God, my God!... I'll have you before the Areopagus for assault and battery.

Timon You’d better not wait much longer, or you'll have to make it murder.

Gnathonides Mercy, mercy! ..- Now, a little gold ointment to heal the wound; it is a first-rate styptic.

Timon What! you won’t go, won’t you?

Gnathonides Oh, I am going. But you shall repent this. Alas, so genial once, and now so rude!

Timon Now who is this with the bald crown?

Why, -it is Philiades; if there is a loathsome flatterer, it is he. When I sang that song that nobody else would applaud, he lauded me to the skies, and swore no dying swan could be more tuneful; his reward was one of my farms, and a £500 portion for his daughter. And then when he found I was ill, and had come to him for assistance, his generous aid took the form of blows.

Philiades You shameless creatures! yes, yes, mow you know Timon’s merits! now Gnathonides would be his friend and boon-companion! well, he has the right reward of ingratitude. Some of us were his familiars and playmates and neighbours; but we hold back a little; we would not seem to thrust ourselves upon him. Greeting, lord Timon; pray let me -varn you against these abominable flatterers; they are your humble servants during meal-times, and else about as useful as carrion crows. Perfidy is the order of the day; everywhere ingratitude and vileness. I was just bringing a couple of hundred pounds, for your immediate necessities, and was nearly here before I heard of your splendid fortune. So I just came on to give you this word of caution; though indeed you are wise enough (I would take your advice before Nestor’s myself) to need none of my counsel.

Timon Quite so, Philiades. But come near, will you not, and receive my—spade!

Philiades Help, help! this thankless brute has broken my head, for giving him good counsel.

Timon Now for number three. Lawyer Demeas—my cousin, as he calls himself, with a decree in his hand. Between three and four thousand it was that I paid in to the Treasury in ready money for him; he had been fined that amount and imprisoned in default, and I took pity on him. Well, the other day he was distributing-officer of the festival money Every citizen had the right to receive from the State the small sum which would pay for his admission to theatrical or other festival entertainments.; when I applied for my share, he pretended I was not a citizen.

Demeas Hail, Timon, ornament of our race, pillar of Athens, shield of Hellas! The Assembly and both Councils are met, and expect your appearance. But first hear the decree which I have proposed in your honour. Whereas Timon son of Echecratides of Collytus who adds to high position and character a sagacity unmatched in Greece is a consistent and indefatigable promoter of his country’s good and Whereas he has been victorious at Olympia on one day in boxing wrestling and running as well as in the two and the four-horse chariot races—'

Timon Why, I was never so much as a spectator at Olympia.

Demeas What does that matter? you will be some day. It looks better to have a good deal of that sort in—'and Whereas he fought with distinction last year at Acharnae cutting two Peloponnesian companies to pieces—’

Timon Good work that, considering that my name was not on the muster-rolls, because I could not afford a suit of armour.

Demeas Ah, you are modest; but it would be ingratitude in us to forget your services—‘and Whereas by political measures and responsible advice and military action he has conferred great benefits on his country Now for all these reasons it is the pleasure of the Assembly and the Council the ten divisions of the High Court and the Borough Councils individually and collectively THaT a golden statue of the said Timon be placed on the Acropolis alongside of Athene with a thunderbolt in the hand and a seven-rayed aureole on the head Further that golden garlands be conferred on him and proclaimed this day at the New TragediesSee Dionysia in Notes. the said day being kept in his honour as the Dionysia. Mover of the Decree Demeas the pleader the said Timon’s near relation and disciple the said Timon being as distinguished in pleading as in all else wherein it pleases him to excel.’

So runs the decree. I had designed also to present to you my son, whom I have named Timon after you.

Timon Why, I thought you were a bachelor, Demeas,

Demeas Ah, but I intend to marry next year; my child—which is to be a boy—I hereby name Timon.

Timon I doubt whether you will feel like marrying, my man, when I have given you—this!

Demeas Oh Lord! what is that for? ... You are plotting a coup d’état, you Timon; you assault free men, and you are neither a free man nor a citizen yourself. You shall soon be called to account for your crimes; it was you set fire to the Acropolis, for one thing.

Timon Why, you scoundrel, the Acropolis has not been set on fire; you are a common blackmailer.

Demeas You got your gold by breaking into the Treasury.

Timon It has not been broken into, either; you are not even plausible.

Demeas There is time for the burglary yet; meantime, you are in possession of the treasures.

Timon Well, here is another for you, anyhow.

Demeas Oh! oh! my back!

Timon Don’t make such a noise, if you don’t want a third. It would be too absurd, you know, if I could cut two companies of Spartans to pieces without my armour, and not be able to” give a single little scoundrel his deserts. My Olympic boxing and wrestling victories would be thrown away.

Whom have we now? is this Thrasycles the philosopher? sure enough it is. A halo of beard, eyebrows an inch above their place, superiority in his air, a look that might storm heaven, locks waving to the wind—’tis a very Boreas or Triton from Zeuxis’ pencil. This hero of the careful get-up, the solemn gait, the plain attire—in the morning he will utter a thousand maxims, expounding Virtue, arraigning self-indulgence, lauding simplicity; and then, when he gets to dinner after his bath, his servant fills him a bumper (he prefers it neat), and draining this Lethe-draught he proceeds to turn his morning maxims inside out; he swoops like a hawk on dainty dishes, elbows his neighbour aside, fouls his beard with trickling sauce, laps like a dog, with his nose in his plate, as if he expected to find Virtue there, and runs his finger all round the bowl, not to lose a drop of the gravy.

Let him monopolize pastry or joint, he will still criticize the carving—that is all the satisfaction his ravenous greed brings him—; when the wine is in, singing and dancing are delights not fierce enough; he must brawl and rave. He has plenty to say in his cups—he is then at his best in that kind—upon temperance and decorum; he is full of these when his potations have reduced him to ridiculous stuttering. Next the wine disagrees with him, and at last he is carried out of the room, holding on with all his might to the flute-girl. Take him sober, for that matter, and you will hardly find his match at lying, effrontery or avarice. He is facile princeps of flatterers, perjury sits on his tongue-tip, imposture goes before him, and shamelessness is his good comrade; oh, he is a most ingenious piece of work, finished at all points, a multum in parvo. I am afraid his kind heart will be grieved presently. Why, how is this, Thrasycles? I must say, you have taken your time about coming.

Thrasycles Ah, Timon, I am not come like the rest of the crowd; they are dazzled by your wealth; they are gathered together with an eye to gold and silver and high living; they will soon be showing their servile tricks before your unsuspicious, generous self. As for me, you know a crust is all the dinner I care for; the relish I like best is a bit of thyme or cress; on festal days I may go as far as a sprinkling of salt. My drink is the crystal spring; and this threadbare cloak is better than your gay robes, Gold—I value it no higher than pebbles on the beach. What brought me was concern for you; I would not have you ruined by this same pestilent wealth, this temptation for plunderers; many is the man it has sunk in helpless misery. Take my advice, and fling it bodily into the sea; a good man, to whom the wealth of philosophy is revealed, has no need of the other. It does not matter about deep water, my good sir; wade in up to your waist when the tide is near flood, and let no one see you but me,

Or if that is not satisfactory, here is another plan even better. Get it all out of the house as quick as you can, not reserving a penny for yourself, and distribute it to the poor—five shillings to one, five pounds to another, a hundred to a third; philosophy might constitute a claim to a double or triple share. For my part—and I do not ask for myself, only to divide it among my needy friends—I should be quite content with as much as my scrip would hold; it is something short of two standard bushels; if one professes philosophy, one must be moderate and have few needs—none that go beyond the capacity of a scrip.

Timon Very right, Thrasycles. But instead of a mere scripful, pray take a whole headful of clouts, standard measure by the spade.

Thrasycles Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against this ruffian!

Timon What is your grievance, my good man? is the measure short? here is a pint or two extra, then, to put it right. Why, what now? here comes a crowd; friend Blepsias, Laches, Gniphon; their name is legion;

they shall howl soon. I had better get up on the rock; my poor tired spade wants a little rest; I will collect all the stones I can lay hands on, and pepper them at long range.

Blepsias Don’t throw, Timon; we are going.

Timon Whether the retreat will be bloodless, however, is another question,