[Exit.]
SCENE II. Athens. A room in Timon’s house
Enter Flavius with two or three Servants.
FIRST SERVANT.
Hear you, Master Steward, where’s our master?
Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?
FLAVIUS.
Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.
FIRST SERVANT.
Such a house broke?
So noble a master fall’n? All gone, and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm
And go along with him?
SECOND SERVANT.
As we do turn our backs
From our companion, thrown into his grave,
So his familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away, leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses picked; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunned poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.—More of our fellows.
Enter other Servants.
FLAVIUS.
All broken implements of a ruined house.
THIRD SERVANT.
Yet do our hearts wear Timon’s livery.
That see I by our faces. We are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow. Leaked is our bark,
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the surges threat. We must all part
Into this sea of air.