PAINTER.
We are hither come to offer you our service.
TIMON.
Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
Can you eat roots and drink cold water? No?
BOTH.
What we can do we’ll do, to do you service.
TIMON.
Ye’re honest men. Ye’ve heard that I have gold,
I am sure you have. Speak truth, you’re honest men.
PAINTER.
So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON.
Good honest men! [To Painter.] Thou draw’st a counterfeit
Best in all Athens. Thou’rt indeed the best,
Thou counterfeit’st most lively.
PAINTER.
So so, my lord.
TIMON.
E’en so, sir, as I say. [To the Poet.] And for thy fiction,
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
That thou art even natural in thine art.
But for all this, my honest-natured friends,
I must needs say you have a little fault.
Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.
BOTH.
Beseech your honour
To make it known to us.
TIMON.
You’ll take it ill.