Timon of Athens William Shakespeare (fun to read txt) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online Ā«Timon of Athens William Shakespeare (fun to read txt) šĀ». Author William Shakespeare
They have eāen put my breath from me, the slaves.
Creditors? devils!
So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius:
All, sirrah, all:
Iāll once more feast the rascals.
O my lord,
You only speak from your distracted soul;
There is not so much left, to furnish out
A moderate table.
Beāt not in thy care; go,
I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide
Of knaves once more; my cook and Iāll provide. Exeunt.
The same. The senate-house.
The Senate sitting. First SenatorMy lord, you have my voice to it; the faultās
Bloody; ātis necessary he should die:
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
I am an humble suitor to your virtues;
For pity is the virtue of the law,
And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
Hath steppād into the law, which is past depth
To those that, without heed, do plunge intoāt.
He is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues:
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardiceā ā
An honour in him which buys out his faultā ā
But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touchād to death,
He did oppose his foe:
And with such sober and unnoted passion
He did behave his anger, ere ātwas spent,
As if he had but proved an argument.
You undergo too strict a paradox,
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:
Your words have took such pains as if they labourād
To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour; which indeed
Is valour misbegot and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born:
Heās truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly,
And neāer prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill,
What folly ātis to hazard life for ill!
You cannot make gross sins look clear:
To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
My lords, then, under favour, pardon me,
If I speak like a captain.
Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threats? sleep uponāt,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
Without repugnancy? If there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? why then, women are more valiant
That stay at home, if bearing carry it,
And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon
Loaden with irons wiser than the judge,
If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
As you are great, be pitifully good:
Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sinās extremest gust;
But, in defence, by mercy, ātis most just.
To be in anger is impiety;
But who is man that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.
In vain! his service done
At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
Were a sufficient briber for his life.
I say, my lords, he has done fair service,
And slain in fight many of your enemies:
How full of valour did he bear himself
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!
He has made too much plenty with āem;
Heās a sworn rioter: he has a sin that often
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner:
If there were no foes, that were enough
To overcome him: in that beastly fury
He has been known to commit outrages,
And cherish factions: ātis inferrād to us,
His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
Hard fate! he might have died in war.
My lords, if not for any parts in himā ā
Though his right arm might purchase his own time
And be in debt to noneā āyet, more to move you,
Take my deserts to his, and join āem both:
And, for I know your reverend ages love
Security, Iāll pawn my victories, all
My honours to you, upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receiveāt in valiant gore;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
We are for law: he dies; urge it no more,
On height of our displeasure: friend or brother,
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.
I cannot think but your age has forgot me;
It could not else be, I should prove so base,
To sue, and be denied such common grace:
My wounds ache at you.
Do you dare our anger?
āTis in few words, but spacious in effect;
We banish thee for ever.
Banish me!
Banish your dotage; banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly.
If, after two daysā shine, Athens contain thee,
Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit,
He shall be executed presently. Exeunt Senators.
Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live
Only in bone, that none may look on you!
Iām worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
While they have told their money and let out
Their coin upon large interest, I myself
Rich only in large hurts. All those for this?
Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
Pours into captainsā wounds? Banishment!
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banishād;
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. Iāll cheer up
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
āTis honour with most lands to be at odds;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. Exit.
The same. A banqueting-room in Timonās house.
Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. Enter divers Lords, Senators and others, at several doors. First Lord The good time of day to you, sir. Second Lord I also wish it to you. I think
Comments (0)