mpliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all.

In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes.
Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food.

"Be seated, worthy friends," said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the
gods of Greece. "Give each man enough," he said, "for if you, who are
our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men
love the joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain
twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me.
Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!"

The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it.
They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs,
they uncovered the dishes.

There was nothing in them but warm water.

"May you never see a better feast," wished Timon "I wash off the
flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your
villainy." With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces,
and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet,
he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever.

His next dwelling was a cave near the sea.

Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a
handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because,
having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town.
The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not
soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern
the fact that good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He
determined to see nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of
Ventidius and the meanness of Lucullus.

He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the
earth for food.

One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck
gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly,
and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold
vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. "This yellow slave," he said,
"will make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair.
It will buy murder and bless the accursed."

He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached
with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but
pleasure.

Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades
did not recognize him at first.

"Who are you