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Great Timon; noble, worthy, royal Timon!
Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise,
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made.
Feast-won, fast-lost: one cloud of winter show’rs,
These flies are couched. (2.2.170–74)
Flavius addresses these lines to Timon, warning him that when word gets out about his poverty, his so-called friends are likely to desert him. It’s interesting to note that the steward’s language here emphasizes the transactional nature of Timon’s relationships. He essentially implies that Timon has been paying for praise, a suggestion that certainly rubs his master the wrong way. This suggestion also echoes Apemantus’s earlier speculation that Timon is addicted to flattery. Ultimately, though, Flavius is not a cynic, and his goal in saying this to Timon is not mean-spirited. Rather, he wants Timon to be emotionally prepared for disappointment.
Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece
Is every flatterer’s sport. Who can call him
His friend that dips in the same dish? For, in
My knowing Timon has been this lord’s father
And kept his credit with his purse,
Supported his estate. Nay, Timon’s money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne’er drinks
But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip.
And yet—O, see the monstrousness of man
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!—
He does deny him, in respect of his,
What charitable men afford to beggars. (3.2.64–75)
When Timon’s servant Servilius comes to Lucius’s house to seek a loan, the lord is entertaining three unnamed strangers. After Lucius denies Servilius’s request, they exit the room, leaving the strangers to discuss the conversation they’ve just witnessed. The first stranger speaks these lines, criticizing Lucius for benefiting from Timon’s generosity yet denying him in a time of need. In other words, the stranger decries Lucius for being a fair-weather friend. Yet there’s also an undercurrent of irony in this moment, since the stranger will shortly profess that, unlike Lucius, he would never have denied Timon a loan. But of course, he says this believing that Timon wouldn’t ask him, which may leave us suspicious of his self-righteous criticism.
May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water
Is your perfection. This is Timon’s last;
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces
Your reeking villainy. Live loathed and long,
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time’s flies,
Cap-and-knee slaves, vapors, and minute-jacks.
Of man and beast the infinite malady
Crust you quite o’er! (3.6.88–99)
When his guests gather at his house for his second banquet, Timon presents them with covered dishes and utters a strange version of “grace” that ends up refusing to bless his present company. Then, declaring, “Uncover, dogs, and lap” (3.6.86), he reveals an ironic “feast” of stone soup. Immediately after the dishes are uncovered, Timon launches into the lines quoted above, where he unleashes on the various lords who have proven to be fair-weather friends. The intensity of his anger here is only partly explained by his feeling of betrayal. It’s also about how the foundations of his understanding of friendship have been shaken. Timon is a man who previously believed that genuine social bonds could be established through acts of generosity. Now, however, he is suspicious of all social bonds, and in a desperate fury he recasts these men as beasts and chases them out. This speech represents the first of Timon’s many bitter curses.
