Fla. I beseech your Honor, vouchsafe me a word, it does concerne you neere
Tim. Neere? why then another time Ile heare thee. I prythee let's be prouided to shew them entertainment
Fla. I scarse know how. Enter another Seruant.
Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius (Out of his free loue) hath presented to you Foure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer
Tim. I shall accept them fairely: let the Presents Be worthily entertain'd. Enter a third Seruant.
How now? What newes? 3.Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman Lord Lucullus, entreats your companie to morrow, to hunt with him, and ha's sent your Honour two brace of Grey-hounds
Tim. Ile hunt with him, And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward
Fla. What will this come to? He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and all out of an empty Coffer: Nor will he know his Purse, or yeeld me this, To shew him what a Begger his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises flye so beyond his state, That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word: He is so kinde, that he now payes interest for't; His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were Gently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out: Happier is he that has no friend to feede, Then such that do e'ne Enemies exceede. I bleed inwardly for my Lord.
Tim. You do your selues much wrong, You bate too much of your owne merits. Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue
2.Lord. With more then common thankes I will receyue it
3.Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty
Tim. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on. Tis yours because you lik'd it
1.L. Oh, I beseech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that
Tim. You may take my word my Lord: I know no man can iustly praise, but what he does affect. I weighe my Friends affection with mine owne: Ile tell you true, Ile call to you
All Lor. O none so welcome
Tim. I take all, and your seuerall visitations So kinde to heart, 'tis not enough to giue: Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my Friends, And nere be wearie. Alcibiades, Thou art a Soldiour, therefore sildome rich, It comes in Charitie to thee: for all thy liuing Is mong'st the dead: and all the Lands thou hast Lye in a pitcht field
Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord
1.Lord. We are so vertuously bound
Tim. And so am I to you
2.Lord. So infinitely endeer'd
Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights
1.Lord. The best of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes Keepe with you Lord Timon
Tim. Ready for his Friends.
Aper. What a coiles heere, seruing of beckes, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the summes that are giuen for 'em. Friendships full of dregges, Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue sound legges. Thus honest Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtsies
Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen) I would be good to thee
Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there would be none left to raile vpon thee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giu'st so long Timon (I feare me) thou wilt giue away thy selfe in paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pompes, and Vaine-glories? Tim. Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I am sworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Musicke.