servants have sought to retain him. Must his very house also be his enemy, his gaol?
"The place where I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, shew me an iron heart?"
At the door he is beset with a crowd of dunning creditors, adding fuel to the flame of his rage.
"Phi. All our bills.
Tim. Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.
Luc. Serv. Alas ! my lord,—
Tim. Cut my heart in sums.
Tit. Mine, fifty talents.
Tim. Tell out my blood.
Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord.
Tim. Five thousand drops pays that.
What yours?—and yours?
Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!
Hor. 'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps
at their money; these debts may well be called desperate
ones, for a madman owes 'em.
[Timon drives them out and re-enters.
Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves:
Creditors?—devils."
He gives orders for his farewell feast, although Flavius reminds him of his absolute want of means, and says that in doing so
"You only speak from your distracted soul."
However Timon and the cook will provide. The feast is toward. The expression of rage is controlled, and the infinite sarcasm of the inverted benediction is pronounced before the guests know what it means. The ambiguity of the language is of course intended to conceal for a moment its true meaning—that men are all villains and women no better; that even their piety is selfishness, so that if the Gods gave all, even they would be despised like Timon; but all being amiss, let all be suitable for destruction.
The dishes uncovered are full of warm water, which Timon throws into the faces of his mock friends, whose perfect nature
