The Life of Timon of Athens. Уильям Шекспир

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      Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy

      labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.

      Heavens, that I were a lord!

      What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

      Even as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.

      What, thyself?

      Ay.

       Wherefore?

      That I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?

      Ay, Apemantus.

      Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

      If traffic do it, the gods do it.

      Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee!

      What trumpet's that?

      'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,

      All of companionship.

      Pray entertain them; give them guide to us.

      You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence

      Till I have thank'd you; when dinner's done,

      Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

      Most welcome, sir!

      So, 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 out

      Into baboon and monkey.

      Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed

      Most hungerly on your sight.

      Right welcome, sir!

      Ere we depart we'll share a bounteous time

      In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

      What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

      Time to be honest.

      That time serves still.

      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.

      Fare thee well, fare thee well.

      Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

      Why, Apemantus?

      Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

      Hang thyself!

      APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

      Away, unpeaceable dog! or I'll spurn thee hence.

      I will fly, like a dog, the heels of an ass.

      He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,

      And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes

      The very heart of kindness.

      He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,

      Is but his steward: no meed but he repays

      Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him

      But breeds the giver a return exceeding

      All use of quittance.

      The noblest mind he carries

      That ever govern'd man.

      Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

      I'll keep you company.

      Most 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 bound

      To your free heart, I do return those talents,

      Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help

      I deriv'd liberty.

      O! by no means,

      Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;

      I gave it freely ever; and there's none

      Can truly say he gives, if he receives:

      If our betters play at that game, we must not dare

      To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.

      A noble spirit.

      Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first

      To 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 fortunes

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