TIMON.
You gods, reward them!
Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary.
Their blood is caked, ’tis cold, it seldom flows;
’Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
Is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
Go to Ventidius. Prithee, be not sad,
Thou art true and honest, ingenuously I speak,
No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately
Buried his father, by whose death he’s stepped
Into a great estate. When he was poor,
Imprisoned and in scarcity of friends,
I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me,
Bid him suppose some good necessity
Touches his friend, which craves to be remembered
With those five talents. That had, give’t these fellows
To whom ’tis instant due. Ne’er speak, or think
That Timon’s fortunes ’mong his friends can sink.
[Exit.]
FLAVIUS.
I would I could not think it.
That thought is bounty’s foe;
Being free itself, it thinks all others so.
[Exit.]
ACT III
SCENE I. Athens. A room in Lucullus’ house
Flaminius waiting to speak with Lucullus from his master.
Enter a Servant to him.
SERVANT.
I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.
FLAMINIUS.
I thank you, sir.