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His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Noble Ventidius! Well;
Ven. Serv, Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransom ; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me :'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.-Fare you well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour !
Enter an old Athenian,
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Freely, good father.
Luc. Here, at your lordship’s service.
Well; what further?
The man is honest.
Does she love him?
Tim. [to LUCILIUS] Love you the maid ?
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be misling,
How shall she be endow'd
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in future, all.
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long i
Most noble lord,
Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship : Never may
[Exeunt LUCILIUS and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lord
Pain. A piece of painting ; which I do beseech
Painting is welcome.
hear further from me. Pain.
The gods preserve you ! Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen : Give me your hand; We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise. Jew.
What, my lord ? dispraise ? Tim. A meer fatiety of commendations. If I should pay you for’t as 'tis extollid, It would unclew me quite. Jew.
My lord, 'tis rated As those, which fell, would give : But you well know, Things of like value, differing in the owners, Are prized by their masters : believ’t, dear lord, You mend the jewel by wearing it. Tim,
Well mock'd. Mer. No, my good iord; he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him. Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid ? B4
Jew. We will bear, with your lordship.
He'll spare none. Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus !
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good niorrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou know'st
them not. Apem. Are they not Athenians ? Tim. Yes. Apem. Then I repent not. Jew. You know me, Apemantus. Apem. Thou know'lt, I do; I call’d thee by thy name. Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus. Apem. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Ti.
Tim. Whither art going?
Apem. He wrought better, that made the painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. You are a dog.
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation ; What's the, if I be a dog?
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension.
Hpem. Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost think 'tis worth ?
Apem. Then thou lielt: look in thy last work, where thou haft feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Peet. That's not feign'd, he is so.
Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour : He, that loves to be flatter'd, is worthy o’the Aatterer. Heavens that I were a lord !
Tim. What would'It lo then, Apemantus ?
Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.-
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Trumpets found. Enter a Servant.
Tim. What trumpet's that?