TIMON.
I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received,
Not without fair reward.
[Exit Servant.]
FLAVIUS.
[Aside.] What will this come to?
He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,
And all out of an empty coffer;
Nor will he know his purse or yield me this:
To show him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good.
His promises fly so beyond his state
That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes
For every word. He is so kind that he now
Pays interest for ’t; his land’s put to their books.
Well, would I were gently put out of office
Before I were forced out.
Happier is he that has no friend to feed
Than such that do e’en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord.
[Exit.]
TIMON.
You do yourselves much wrong,
You bate too much of your own merits.
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
SECOND LORD.
With more than common thanks I will receive it.
THIRD LORD.
O, he’s the very soul of bounty!
TIMON.
And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. ’Tis yours because you liked it.
THIRD LORD.
O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.
TIMON.
You may take my word, my lord. I know no man
Can justly praise but what he does affect.
I weigh my friend’s affection with mine own.
I’ll tell you true, I’ll call to you.