The Life of Timon of Athens
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THE LIFE OF TIMON OF ATHENS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
TIMON, a noble Athenian
LUCIUS
LUCULLUS flattering Lords.
SEMPRONIUS
VENTIDIUS, one of Timon's false Friends.
APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian Captain.
FLAVIUS, Steward to Timon.
FLAMINIUS
LUCILIUS Servants to Timon.
SERVILIUS
CAPHIS
PHILOTUS Servants to Timon's Creditors.
TITUS
HORTENSIUS
Servants of Ventidius, and of Varro and Isidore (two of Timon's Creditor's).
THREE STRANGERS.
AN OLD ATHENIAN.
A PAGE.
A FOOL.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
PHRYNIA Mistresses to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA
Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Servants, Thieves, and Attendants
CUPID and Amazons in the Masque.
Scene. – Athens, and the neighbouring WoodsAct I. Scene I. – Athens. A Hall in TIMON'S House
[Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Others, at several doors.]
POETGood day, sir.PAINTERI am glad you're well.POETI have not seen you long. How goes the world?PAINTERIt wears, sir, as it grows.POETAy, that's well known;But what particular rarity? what strange,Which manifold record not matches? See,Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy powerHath conjur'd to attend! I know the merchant.PAINTERI know them both; th' other's a jeweller.MERCHANTO, 'tis a worthy lord!JEWELLERNay, that's most fix'd.MERCHANTA most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,To an untirable and continuate goodness.He passes.JEWELLERI have a jewel here —MERCHANTO, pray let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?JEWELLERIf he will touch the estimate: but for that —POETWhen we for recompense have prais'd the vile,It stains the glory in that happy verseWhich aptly sings the good.MERCHANT[Looking at the jewel.]
'Tis a good form.JEWELLERAnd rich: here is a water, look ye.PAINTERYou are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedicationTo the great lord.POETA thing slipp'd idly from me.Our poesy is as a gum, which oozesFrom whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flintShows not till it be struck; our gentle flameProvokes itself, and like the current fliesEach bound it chafes. What have you there?PAINTERA picture, sir. When comes your book forth?POETUpon the heels of my presentment, sir.Let's see your piece.PAINTER'Tis a good piece.POETSo 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.PAINTERIndifferent.POETAdmirable! How this graceSpeaks his own standing! what a mental powerThis eye shoots forth! how big imaginationMoves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gestureOne might interpret.PAINTERIt is a pretty mocking of the life.Here is a touch; is't good?POETI'll say of it,It tutors nature: artificial strifeLives in these touches, livelier than life.[Enter certain SENATORS, who pass over the stage.]
PAINTERHow this lord is followed!POETThe senators of Athens: happy man!PAINTERLook, more!POETYou see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a manWhom this beneath world doth embrace and hugWith amplest entertainment: my free driftHalts not particularly, but moves itselfIn a wide sea of wax: no levell'd maliceInfects one comma in the course I hold:But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,Leaving no tract behind.PAINTERHow shall I understand you?POETI will unbolt to you.You see how all conditions, how all minds —As well of glib and slipp'ry creatures asOf grave and austere quality – tender downTheir services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,Subdues and properties to his love and tendanceAll sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flattererTo Apemantus, that few things loves betterThan to abhor himself: even he drops downThe knee before him, and returns in peaceMost rich in Timon's nod.PAINTERI saw them speak together.POETSir, I have upon a high and pleasant hillFeign'd Fortune to be thron'd: the base o' the mountIs rank'd with all deserts, all kind of naturesThat labour on the bosom of this sphereTo propagate their states: amongst them all,Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'dOne do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;Whose present grace to present slaves and servantsTranslates his rivals.PAINTER'Tis conceiv'd to scope.This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,With one man beckon'd from the rest below,Bowing his head against the steepy mountTo climb his happiness, would be well express'dIn our condition.POETNay, sir, but hear me on.All those which were his fellows but of late,Some better than his value, on the momentFollow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,Make sacred even his stirrup, and through himDrink the free air.PAINTERAy, marry, what of these?POETWhen Fortune in her shift and change of moodSpurns down her late beloved, all his dependants,Which labour'd after him to the mountain's topEven on their knees and hands, let him slip down,Not one accompanying his declining foot.PAINTER'Tis common:A thousand moral paintings I can showThat shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune'sMore pregnantly than words. Yet you do wellTo show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seenThe foot above the head.[Trumpets sound. Enter LORD TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor: a MESSENGER from VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following.]
TIMONImprison'd is he, say you?MESSENGERAy, my good lord. Five talents is his debt,His means most short, his creditors most strait:Your honourable letter he desiresTo those have shut him up; which, failing,Periods his comfort.TIMONNoble Ventidius! Well:I am not of that feather to shake offMy friend when he must need me. I do know himA gentleman that well deserves a help,Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt and free him.MESSENGERYour lordship ever binds him.TIMONCommend me to him; I will send his ransom;And being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me.'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,But to support him after. Fare you well.MESSENGERAll happiness to your honour.[Exit.]
[Enter an OLD ATHENIAN.]
OLD ATHENIANLord Timon, hear me speak.TIMONFreely, good father.OLD ATHENIANThou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.TIMONI have so: what of him?OLD ATHENIANMost noble Timon, call the man before thee.TIMONAttends he here or no? Lucilius!LUCILIUSHere, at your lordship's service.OLD ATHENIANThis fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,By night frequents my house. I am a manThat from my first have been inclin'd to thrift,And my estate deserves an heir more rais'dThan one which holds a trencher.TIMONWell; what further?OLD ATHENIANOne only daughter have I, no kin else,On whom I may confer what I have got:The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,And I have bred her at my dearest costIn qualities of the best. This man of thineAttempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,Join with me to forbid him her resort;Myself have spoke in vain.TIMONThe man is honest.OLD ATHENIANTherefore he will be, Timon:His honesty rewards him in itself;It must not bear my daughter.TIMONDoes she love him?OLD ATHENIANShe is young and apt:Our own precedent passions do instruct usWhat levity's in youth.TIMON. [To Lucilius.]Love you the maid?LUCILIUSAy, my good lord, and she accepts of it.OLD ATHENIANIf in her marriage my consent be missing,I call the gods to witness, I will chooseMine heir from forth the beggars of the world,And dispossess her all.TIMONHow shall she be endow'd,If she be mated with an equal husband?OLD ATHENIANThree talents on the present; in future, all.TIMONThis gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long:To build his fortune I will strain a little,For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,And make him weigh with her.OLD ATHENIANMost noble lord,Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.TIMONMy hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.LUCILIUSHumbly I thank your lordship. Never mayThat state or fortune fall into my keepingWhich is not owed to you![Exeunt LUCILIUS and OLD ATHENIAN.]
POET[Presenting his poem]
Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!TIMONI thank you; you shall hear from me anon:Go not away. What have you there, my friend?PAINTERA piece of painting, which I do beseechYour lordship to accept.TIMONPainting is welcome.The painting is almost the natural man;For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,He is but outside: these pencill'd figures areEven such as they give out. I like your work;And you shall find I like it: wait attendanceTill you hear further from me.PAINTERThe gods preserve you!TIMONWell fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewelHath suffered under praise.JEWELLERWhat, my lord! dispraise?TIMONA mere satiety of commendations;If I should pay you for 't as 'tis extoll'd,It would unclew me quite.JEWELLERMy lord, 'tis ratedAs those which sell would give: but you well know,Things of like value, differing in the owners,Are prized by their masters. Believe't, dear lord,You mend the jewel by the wearing it.TIMONWell mock'd.MERCHANTNo, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,Which all men speak with him.TIMONLook who comes here. Will you be chid?[Enter APEMANTUS.]
JEWELLERWe'll bear, with your lordship.MERCHANTHe'll spare none.TIMONGood morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!APEMANTUSTill I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.TIMONWhy dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.APEMANTUSAre they not Athenians?TIMONYes.APEMANTUSThen I repent not.JEWELLERYou know me, Apemantus?APEMANTUSThou know'st I do; I call'd thee by thy name.TIMONThou art proud, Apemantus.APEMANTUSOf nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.TIMONWhither art going?APEMANTUSTo knock out an honest Athenian's brains.TIMONThat's a deed thou'lt die for.APEMANTUSRight, if doing nothing be death by the law.TIMONHow likest thou this picture, Apemantus?APEMANTUSThe best, for the innocence.TIMONWrought he not well that painted it?APEMANTUS. He wrought better that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.PAINTERYou're a dog.APEMANTUSThy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?TIMONWilt dine with me, Apemantus?APEMANTUSNo; I eat not lords.TIMONAn thou shouldst, thou'dst anger ladies.APEMANTUSO! they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.TIMONThat's a lascivious apprehension.APEMANTUSSo thou apprehendest it, take it for thy labour.TIMONHow dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?APEMANTUS. Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.TIMONWhat dost thou think 'tis worth?APEMANTUSNot worth my thinking. How now, poet!POETHow now, philosopher!APEMANTUSThou liest.POETArt not one?APEMANTUSYes.POETThen I lie not.APEMANTUSArt not a poet?POETYes.APEMANTUS. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.POETThat's not feigned; he is so.APEMANTUSYes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thylabour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.Heavens, that I were a lord!TIMONWhat wouldst do then, Apemantus?APEMANTUSEven as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.TIMONWhat, thyself?APEMANTUSAy.TIMON Wherefore?APEMANTUSThat I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?MERCHANTAy, Apemantus.APEMANTUSTraffic confound thee, if the gods will not!MERCHANTIf traffic do it, the gods do it.APEMANTUSTraffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee![Trumpet sounds. Enter a MESSENGER.]
TIMONWhat trumpet's that?MESSENGER'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,All of companionship.TIMONPray entertain them; give them guide to us.[Exeunt some attendants.]
You must needs dine with me. Go not you henceTill I have thank'd you; when dinner's done,Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.[Enter ALCIBIADES, with the his Company.]
Most welcome, sir![They salute.]
APEMANTUSSo, 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 outInto baboon and monkey.ALCIBIADESSir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feedMost hungerly on your sight.TIMONRight welcome, sir!Ere we depart we'll share a bounteous timeIn different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.[Exeunt all but APEMANTUS.]
[Enter two LORDS.]
FIRST LORDWhat time o' day is't, Apemantus?APEMANTUSTime to be honest.FIRST LORDThat time serves still.APEMANTUSThe more accursed thou that still omitt'st it.SECOND LORDThou art going to Lord Timon's feast.APEMANTUSAy; to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.SECOND LORDFare thee well, fare thee well.APEMANTUSThou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.SECOND LORDWhy, Apemantus?APEMANTUSShouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.FIRST LORDHang thyself!APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.SECOND LORDAway, unpeaceable dog! or I'll spurn thee hence.APEMANTUSI will fly, like a dog, the heels of an ass.[Exit.]
FIRST LORDHe's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoesThe very heart of kindness.SECOND LORDHe pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,Is but his steward: no meed but he repaysSevenfold above itself; no gift to himBut breeds the giver a return exceedingAll use of quittance.FIRST LORDThe noblest mind he carriesThat ever govern'd man.SECOND LORDLong may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?FIRST LORDI'll keep you company.[Exeunt.]
Scene II. – The Same. A room of state in TIMON'S House
[Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet served in; FLAVIUS and Others attending: then enter LORD TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lords, and Senators, VENTIDIUS and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly, like himself.]
VENTIDIUSMost 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 boundTo your free heart, I do return those talents,Doubled with thanks and service, from whose helpI deriv'd liberty.TIMONO! by no means,Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;I gave it freely ever; and there's noneCan truly say he gives, if he receives:If our betters play at that game, we must not dareTo imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.VENTIDIUSA noble spirit.[They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON.]
TIMONNay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at firstTo 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 fortunesThan my fortunes to me.[They sit.]
FIRST LORDMy lord, we always have confess'd it.APEMANTUSHo, ho! confess'd it; hang'd it, have you not?TIMONO! Apemantus, you are welcome.APEMANTUSNo,You shall not make me welcome:I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.TIMONFie! thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour thereDoes 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.APEMANTUSLet me stay at thine apperil, Timon:I come to observe; I give thee warning on't.TIMONI take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian, therefore, welcome.I myself would have no power; prithee; let my meat make theesilent.APEMANTUSI scorn thy meat; 't'would choke me, for I shouldNe'er flatter thee. O you gods! what a numberOf men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not!It grieves me to see so many dip their meatIn 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 thatSits next him now, parts bread with him, pledgesThe 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.TIMONMy lord, in heart; and let the health go round.SECOND LORDLet it flow this way, my good lord.APEMANTUSFlow this way! A brave fellow! he keeps his tides well. Thosehealths 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.[Eats and drinks.]
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!TIMONCaptain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.ALCIBIADESMy 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.APEMANTUSThou weepest to make them drink, Timon.SECOND LORDJoy had the like conception in our eyes,And, at that instant like a babe, sprung up.APEMANTUSHo, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.THIRD LORDI promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.APEMANTUSMuch![Tucket sounded.]
TIMONWhat means that trump?[Enter a SERVANT.]
How now!SERVANT. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.TIMONLadies? What are their wills?SERVANT. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.TIMONI pray, let them be admitted.[Enter CUPID.]
CUPIDHail to thee, worthy Timon; and to allThat of his bounties taste! The five best SensesAcknowledge thee their patron; and come freelyTo gratulate thy plenteous bosom. Th' Ear,Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy table rise;They only now come but to feast thine eyes.TIMONThey are welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:Music, make their welcome![Exit CUPID.]
FIRST LORDYou see, my lord, how ample you're belov'd.[Music. Re-enter CUPID, with a masque of LADIES as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing.]
APEMANTUSHoy-day! what a sweep of vanity comes this way:They dance! they are mad women.Like madness is the glory of this life,As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves;And spend our flatteries to drink those menUpon whose age we void it up again,With poisonous spite and envy.Who lives that's not depraved or depraves?Who dies that bears not one spurn to their gravesOf their friend's gift?I should fear those that dance before me nowWould one day stamp upon me: it 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.]
TIMONYou have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,Which was not half so beautiful and kind;You have added worth unto 't and lustre,And entertain'd me with mine own device;I am to thank you for 't.FIRST LADYMy lord, you take us even at the best.APEMANTUS. Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold taking, I doubt me.TIMONLadies, there is an idle banquetAttends you; please you to dispose yourselves.ALL LADIESMost thankfully, my lord.[Exeunt CUPID and LADIES.]
TIMONFlavius!FLAVIUSMy lord!TIMONThe little casket bring me hither.FLAVIUSYes, my lord. [Aside.] More jewels yet!There is no crossing him in 's humour;Else I should tell him well, i' faith, I should,When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he could.'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.[Exit.]
FIRST LORDWhere be our men?SERVANTHere, my lord, in readiness.SECOND LORDOur horses![Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket.]
TIMONO, my friends! I have one word to say to you;Look you, my good lord,I must entreat you, honour me so muchAs to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it,Kind my lord.FIRST LORDI am so far already in your gifts —ALLSo are we all.[Enter a SERVANT.]
SERVANTMy lord, there are certain nobles of the SenateNewly alighted and come to visit you.TIMONThey are fairly welcome.FLAVIUSI beseech your honour,Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.TIMONNear! why then, another time I'll hear thee.I prithee let's be provided to show them entertainment.FLAVIUS[Aside.]
I scarce know how.[Enter another SERVANT.]
SECOND SERVANTMay it please vour honour, Lord Lucius,Out of his free love, hath presented to youFour milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.TIMONI shall accept them fairly; let the presentsBe worthily entertain'd.[Enter a third SERVANT.]
How now! What news?THIRD SERVANT. Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.TIMONI'll hunt with him; and let them be receiv'd,Not without fair reward.FLAVIUS[Aside.] What will this come to?
He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,And all out of an empty coffer;Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,To show him what a beggar his heart is,Being of no power to make his wishes good.His promises fly so beyond his stateThat what he speaks is all in debt; he owesFor every word: he is so kind that he nowPays interest for 't; his land's put to their books.Well, would I were gently put out of officeBefore I were forc'd out!Happier he that has no friend to feedThan such that do e'en enemies exceed.I bleed inwardly for my lord.[Exit.]
TIMONYou do yourselves much wrong;You bate too much of your own merits;Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.SECOND LORDWith more than common thanks I will receive it.THIRD LORDO! he's the very soul of bounty!TIMONAnd now I remember, my lord, you gaveGood words the other day of a bay courserI rode on: it is yours because you lik'd it.THIRD LORDO! I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.TIMONYou may take my word, my lord: I know no manCan justly praise but what he does affect:I weigh my friend's affection with mine own.I'll tell you true; I'll call to you.ALL LORDSO! none so welcome!TIMONI take all and your several visitationsSo kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends,And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich;It comes in charity to thee; for all thy livingIs 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hastLie in a pitch'd field.ALCIBIADESAy, defil'd land, my lord.FIRST LORDWe are so virtuously bound, —TIMONAnd so am I to you.SECOND LORDSo infinitely endear'd, —TIMONAll to you. Lights, more lights!FIRST LORDThe best of happiness,Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!TIMONReady for his friends.[Exeunt ALCIBIADES, Lords, and etc.].]
APEMANTUSWhat a coil's here!Serving of becks and jutting out of bums!I doubt whether their legs be worth the sumsThat 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 curtsies.TIMONNow, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,I would be good to thee.APEMANTUS. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly: What needs these feasts, pomps, and vain-glories?TIMON. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music.[Exit.]