Sen.
And late five thousand: to ^note Varro and to Isidore
He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion
Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog
And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold:
If I would sell my horse and buy twenty ^note moe ^note
Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon;
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me ^note straight

And able horses ^note: no porter ^note at his gate ^note,
But rather one that ^note smiles and still invites
All that pass by ^note. It cannot hold; no reason
Can found his state in ^note safety. Caphis, ho!
Caphis, I say! Enter Caphis.

Caph.
Here, sir; what is your pleasure?

Sen.
Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon;
Importune him for my ^note moneys; be not ceased
With slight denial; nor then silenced, when—
‘Commend ^note me to your master’—and the cap
Plays ^note in the right hand, thus: but ^note tell him ^note,
My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn
Out of mine own; his days and times are past,
And my reliances on his ^note fracted dates
Have ^note smit my credit: I love and honour him,
But must not break my back to heal his finger:
Immediate are my needs; and my relief
Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
But find supply immediate. Get you gone:
Put on a most importunate aspect,
A visage of demand; for, I do fear,
When every feather sticks in his own wing,
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,
Which ^note flashes now a phœnix. Get you gone.

Caph.
I go, sir.

Sen.
‘I go, sir!’ ^note Take the bonds along with you, ^note
And have the dates in compt. ^note

Caph.
I will, sir.

Sen.
Go. [Exeunt. ^note

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