SERVILIUS.
Upon my soul, ’tis true, sir.
LUCIUS.
What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might ha’ shown myself honourable! How unluckily it happened that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour! Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do—the more beast, I say—I was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship, and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me: I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him?
SERVILIUS.
Yes, sir, I shall.
LUCIUS.
I’ll look you out a good turn, Servilius.
[Exit Servilius.]
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed,
And he that’s once denied will hardly speed.
[Exit.]
FIRST STRANGER.
Do you observe this, Hostilius?
SECOND STRANGER.
Ay, too well.
FIRST STRANGER.
Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece
Is every flatterer’s spirit. Who can call him his friend
That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing,
Timon has been this lord’s father
And kept his credit with his purse,
Supported his estate, nay, Timon’s money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne’er drinks
But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip,
And yet—O, see the monstrousness of man
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape—
He does deny him, in respect of his,
What charitable men afford to beggars.