VENTIDIUS.
Most honoured Timon,
It hath pleased the gods to remember my father’s age
And call him to long peace.
He is gone happy and has left me rich.
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
I derived liberty.
TIMON.
O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius. You mistake my love.
I gave it freely ever, and there’s none
Can truly say he gives if he receives.
If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.
VENTIDIUS.
A noble spirit!
TIMON.
Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devised at first
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere ’tis shown;
But where there is true friendship there needs none.
Pray, sit, more welcome are ye to my fortunes
Than my fortunes to me.
[They sit.]
FIRST LORD.
My lord, we always have confessed it.
APEMANTUS.
Ho, ho, confessed it? Hanged it, have you not?
TIMON.
O Apemantus, you are welcome.
APEMANTUS.
No,
You shall not make me welcome.
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
TIMON.
Fie, thou’rt a churl, ye’ve got a humour there
Does not become a man; ’tis much to blame.
They say, my lords, ira furor brevis est,
But yond man is ever angry.
Go, let him have a table by himself,
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for it indeed.