Timon of Athens quotes

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.

Thou art going to Lord Timon’s feast?

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

Fare thee well, fare thee well.

O you gods, what a number of men eat 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 proved.

O, what a precious comfort ’tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another’s fortunes! O joy, e’en made away ere ’t 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.

Who lives that’s not depraved or depraves? Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friends’ gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me: ’t has been done;

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of Timon; and to show their loves, each singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.

What a coil’s here! Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums! I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums That are given for ’em.

Friendship’s full of dregs: Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs,

Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court’sies.

So: Thou wilt not hear me now; thou shalt not then: I’ll lock thy heaven from thee.

O, that men’s ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery.

Exit.

What is a whoremaster, fool?

A fool in good clothes, and something like thee.

’Tis a spirit: sometime’t appears like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher, with two stones moe than’s artificial one: he is very often like a knight;

Who is not Timon’s? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon’s? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made:

Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, These flies are couch’d.

Come, sermon me no further: No villainous bounty yet hath pass’d my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack, To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart;

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.

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.

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.

The dishes are uncovered and seen to be full of warm water.

I feel’t upon my bones.

One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt.

Itches, blains, Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop 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!

Timon will to the woods; where he shall find The 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 To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen. Exit.

Who would be so mock’d with glory? or to live But in a dream of friendship? 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! Who, then, dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.

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! Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?

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

My dearest lord, bless’d, to be most accursed, Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!

Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots! Digging. Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison! What is here? Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.

Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads:

Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their heads:

This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,

Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves And give them title, knee and approbation With senators on the bench: this is it That makes the wappen’d widow wed again;

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, That art thyself a man?

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.

I know thee well; But in thy fortunes am unlearn’d and strange.

Why, fare thee well: Here is some gold for thee.

Keep it, I cannot eat it.

When I have laid proud Athens on a heap—

Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome.

I had rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.

Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.

Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together; Do villany, do, since you protest to do’t, Like workmen. I’ll example you with thievery:

The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon’s an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:

The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears: the earth’s a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing’s a thief: The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck’d theft.

Why dost ask that?

I have forgot all men; Then, if thou grant’st thou’rt a man, I have forgot thee.

An honest poor servant of yours.

It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man Was born of woman. Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man—mistake me not—but one; No more, I pray—and he’s a steward.

How fain would I have hated all mankind! And thou redeem’st thyself: but all, save thee, I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; For, by oppressing and betraying me, Thou mightst have sooner got another service: For many so arrive at second masters, Upon their first lord’s neck.

thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle. Lips, let sour words go by and language end: What is amiss plague and infection mend! Graves only be men’s works and death their gain! Sun, hide thy beams!

Timon hath done his reign.

Retires to his cave.