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Shakespeare's Monologues



Apemantus — “This is in thee a nature but infected;” — Timon of Athens, Act 4, Scene 3, line 187



Timon of Athens Play summary   ·IV iii 187Scene summary  · Verse
Apemantus

Apemantus. This is in thee a nature but infected;
A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.

Timon. Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.

Apemantus. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,
That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip where thou point'st out? will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures
Whose naked natures live in an the spite
Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements exposed,
Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
Modern paraphrasing 👆 Click for a double-spaced PDF of this monologue

Original: This is in thee a nature but infected;
Modern: Your behavior right now isn’t your true nature—it’s just corrupted;

Original: A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
Modern: It’s a weak, cowardly sadness that comes

Original: From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
Modern: From losing your wealth. Why are you digging with a shovel? Why live here?

Original: This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Modern: Why dress like a slave? And why do you look so worried?

Original: Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Modern: Your former flatterers still wear expensive clothes, drink fine wine, sleep in soft beds;

Original: Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
Modern: Embrace their sickly-sweet luxuries, and they’ve forgotten

Original: That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
Modern: That you ever existed. Don’t disgrace these woods

Original: By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Modern: By pretending to be a bitter critic like me.

Original: Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
Modern: Go back to being a flatterer, and try to succeed

Original: By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
Modern: By doing what destroyed you: bow down,

Original: And let his very breath, whom thou’lt observe,
Modern: And let the mere breath of the person you’re serving

Original: Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
Modern: Blow your hat off your head; praise his worst qualities,

Original: And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Modern: And call them excellent: that’s what people did to you;

Original: Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
Modern: You listened to everyone like a bartender who welcomes

Original: To knaves and all approachers: ‘tis most just
Modern: Crooks and anyone who walks in: it’s only fair

Original: That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Modern: That you’ve become a scoundrel yourself; if you had money again,

Original: Rascals should have ‘t. Do not assume my likeness.
Modern: Scoundrels would get it all. Don’t try to act like me.

Original: Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
Modern: You’ve thrown yourself away by being yourself;

Original: A madman so long, now a fool. What, think’st
Modern: A lunatic for so long, and now a fool. What, do you think

Original: That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Modern: That the harsh wind, your loud servant,

Original: Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss’d trees,
Modern: Will warm your shirt for you? Will these moss-covered trees,

Original: That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
Modern: That have lived longer than eagles, serve you like attendants,

Original: And skip where thou point’st out? will the cold brook,
Modern: And run wherever you point? Will the freezing stream,

Original: Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
Modern: Covered with ice, give you a warm drink in the morning

Original: To cure thy o’er-night’s surfeit? Call the creatures
Modern: To cure your hangover from last night? Call the wild animals

Original: Whose naked natures live in an the spite
Modern: Who live exposed to nature despite

Original: Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
Modern: Vengeful heaven—whose bare, unsheltered bodies,

Original: To the conflicting elements exposed,
Modern: Exposed to the battling forces of weather,

Original: Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
Modern: Only respond to basic nature—ask them to flatter you;

In Act IV, Scene 3, Line 187 and following of “Timon of Athens,” the scene continues with Timon’s encounter outside his cave in the woods near Athens. At this point in the scene, Timon has already discovered gold while digging for roots and has been visited by Alcibiades with his companions Phrynia and Timandra. Timon engages in bitter dialogue, giving them gold while simultaneously cursing them and encouraging destruction. He urges Alcibiades to wage war against Athens without mercy, and he gives gold to the courtesans, instructing them to spread disease and corruption. Throughout these exchanges, Timon’s misanthropy is on full display as he expresses his contempt for all of humanity.

The scene continues as Timon remains alone or receives additional visitors, depending on the specific edition and line numbering. His interactions are characterized by his savage rejection of society and his desire to see Athens destroyed. He distributes the gold he has found not as gifts of generosity but as tools of corruption and ruin, consistently expressing his philosophy that all human relationships are false and that mankind deserves only destruction. Timon’s transformation from the generous host of earlier acts to this vitriolic hermit is complete, as he uses his newfound wealth only to fuel chaos and suffering rather than to help others or restore his former position in society.

Timon of Athens tells the story of a wealthy Athenian nobleman whose excessive generosity leads to his downfall. In the first half of the play, Timon lavishes gifts, throws extravagant banquets, and freely lends money to anyone who asks, despite warnings from his loyal steward Flavius about his dwindling finances. Timon dismisses these concerns, believing his generosity will be repaid by the loyalty of his many friends. However, his creditors eventually come calling, and Timon discovers he has no money left to pay his debts.

When Timon’s financial ruin becomes apparent, he sends servants to ask his former friends and beneficiaries for loans to help him through his crisis. One by one, they all refuse him with various excuses - Lucilius claims his money is tied up in investments, Lucullus pretends not to be home, and Sempronius feels insulted that Timon didn’t ask him first. Faced with this universal rejection, Timon invites all his false friends to one final feast, where he serves them warm water and stones, then curses them and banishes himself from Athens.

Timon retreats to a cave in the wilderness outside Athens, where he becomes a misanthropic hermit, railing against humanity and civilization. While digging for roots to eat, he discovers gold in the earth. Various visitors come to see him in his exile, including the loyal Flavius, the philosopher Apemantus (who had always criticized Timon’s generosity), thieves seeking the gold, and the exiled general Alcibiades who is marching against Athens. Timon gives away the gold freely but refuses all attempts at reconciliation or friendship. The play ends with news of Timon’s death reaching Athens, where Alcibiades has successfully taken the city and promises to restore order and justice.