Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Adaptations; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Stories, plots, etc. -- Juvenile literature
Not that Timon’s wealth all went to enrich these wicked
flatterers; he could do noble and praiseworthy actions; and when
a servant of his once loved the daughter of a rich Athenian, but
could not hope to obtain her by reason that in wealth and rank
the maid was so far above him, Lord Timon freely bestowed upon
his servant three Athenian talents, to make his fortune equal
with the dowry which the father of the young maid demanded of him
who should be her husband. But for the most part, knaves and
parasites had the command of his fortune, false friends whom he
did not know to be such, but, because they flocked around his
person, he thought they must needs love him; and because they
smiled and flattered him, he thought surely that his conduct was
approved by all the wise and good. And when be was feasting in
the midst of all these flatterers and mock friends, when they
were eating him up and draining his fortunes dry with large
draughts of richest wines drunk to his health and prosperity, be
could not perceive the difference of a friend from a flatterer,
but to his deluded eyes (made proud with the sight) it seemed a
precious comfort to have so many like brothers commanding one
another’s fortunes (though it was his own fortune which paid all
the costs), and with joy they would run over at the spectacle of
such, as it appeared to him, truly festive and fraternal meeting.
But while he thus outwent the very heart of kindness, and poured
out his bounty, as if Plutus, the god of gold, had been but his
steward; while thus he proceeded without care or stop, so
senseless of expense that he would neither inquire how he could
maintain it nor cease his wild flow of riot--his riches, which
were not infinite, must needs melt away before a prodigality
which knew no limits. But who should tell him so? His flatterers?
They had an interest in shutting his eyes. In vain did his honest
steward Flavius try to represent to him his condition, laying his
accounts before him, begging of him, praying of him, with an
importunity that on any other occasion would have been unmannerly
in a servant, beseeching him with tears to look into the state of
his affairs. Timon would still put him off, and turn the
discourse to something else; for nothing is so deaf to
remonstrance as riches turned to poverty, nothing is so unwilling
to believe its situation, nothing so incredulous to its own true
state, and hard to give credit to a reverse. Often had this good
steward, this honest creature, when all the rooms of Timon’s
great house had been choked up with riotous feeders at his
master’s cost, when the floors have wept with drunken spilling of
wine, and every apartment has blazed with lights and resounded
with music and feasting, often had he retired by himself to some
solitary spot, and wept faster than the wine ran from the
wasteful casks within, to see the mad bounty of his lord, and to
think, when the means were gone which brought him praises from
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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