Timon Von Athen

Timon of Athens begins with a man who has everything: wealth, friends, the love of Athens. He gives freely, lavishly, without keeping count. A poet arrives with verses praising his magnificence. A painter brings a portrait. Merchants, lords, even a prisoner he bails from jail, everyone finds a welcome at Timon's table. His steward warns him: you are spending faster than you earn. Timon won't hear it. What is gold for, if not to scatter? Then the well runs dry. Timon discovers that his fortune has vanished into the endless stream of gifts and banquets. He sends his servants to collect on the debts owed to him, the man he bailed from prison, the lords who swore eternal friendship, the merchants who praised his name. Every one of them refuses. The man he saved from prison denies knowing him. The lords who ate at his table pretend not to recognize his servants. In an instant, Timon transforms from the most beloved man in Athens to a beggar in his own home. What follows is one of the most brutal left turns in literature: Timon retreats to the woods, becomes a misanthrope, and spends his remaining years hurling stones at the horizon while digging his own grave. Shakespeare never wrote anything angrier. It's a play about how generosity gets eaten by the grateful-less, and how quickly love curdles into its opposite. Timon of Athens is the tragedy for an age that still hasn't learned its lesson.