APEMANTUS.
Where my stomach finds meat, or rather where I eat it.
TIMON.
Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!
APEMANTUS.
Where wouldst thou send it?
TIMON.
To sauce thy dishes.
APEMANTUS.
The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know’st none, but art despised for the contrary. There’s a medlar for thee. Eat it.
TIMON.
On what I hate I feed not.
APEMANTUS.
Dost hate a medlar?
TIMON.
Ay, though it look like thee.
APEMANTUS.
An thou’dst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?
TIMON.
Who, without those means thou talk’st of, didst thou ever know beloved?