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.
THIRD STRANGER.
Religion groans at it.
FIRST STRANGER.
For mine own part,
I never tasted Timon in my life,
Nor came any of his bounties over me
To mark me for his friend. Yet I protest,
For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue,
And honourable carriage,
Had his necessity made use of me,
I would have put my wealth into donation,
And the best half should have returned to him,
So much I love his heart. But I perceive
Men must learn now with pity to dispense,
For policy sits above conscience.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same. A room in Sempronius’ house
Enter a Third Servant of Timon’s with Sempronius, another of Timon’s friends.
SEMPRONIUS.
Must he needs trouble me in’t? Hum! ’Bove all others?
He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus;
And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
Whom he redeemed from prison. All these
Owe their estates unto him.
SERVANT.
My lord,
They have all been touched and found base metal,
For they have all denied him.
SEMPRONIUS.
How? Have they denied him?
Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him
And does he send to me? Three? Humh!
It shows but little love or judgment in him.
Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians,
Thrive, give him over. Must I take th’ cure upon me?
Has much disgraced me in’t. I’m angry at him,
That might have known my place. I see no sense for’t
But his occasions might have wooed me first;
For, in my conscience, I was the first man
That e’er received gift from him.
And does he think so backwardly of me now
That I’ll requite it last? No.
So it may prove an argument of laughter
To th’ rest, and I ’mongst lords be thought a fool.
I’d rather than the worth of thrice the sum
Had sent to me first, but for my mind’s sake;
I’d such a courage to do him good. But now return,
And with their faint reply this answer join:
Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.