Serv.

I have told my Lord of you, he is coming down to you.

Flam.

I thank you, Sir.

Serv.

Here's my Lord.

Lucul.

One of Lord Timon's Men? A Gift I warrant.— Why, this hits right: I dreamt of a Silver Bason and Ewre to Night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome, Sir; fill me some Wine. And how does that Honourable, Compleat, Free-hearted Gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good Lord and Master.

Flam.

His Health is well, Sir.

Lucul.

I am right glad that his Health is well, Sir; and what hast thou there under thy Cloak, pretty Flaminius?

Flam.

Faith, nothing but an empty Box, Sir, which, in my Lord's behalf, I come to intreat your Honour to supply; who having great and instant Occasion to use fifty Talents, hath sent to your Lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present Assistance therein.

Lucul.

La, la, la, la—Nothing doubting, says he? Alas, good Lord, a Noble Gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a House. Many a time and often I ha' din'd with him, and told him on't, and come again to Supper to him on purpose to have him spend less; and yet he would embrace no Counsel, take no warning by my 'coming; every Man hath his Fault, and Honesty is his. I ha' told him on't, but I could never get him from't.

Ser.
Please your Lordship, here is the Wine.

Lucul.
Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise.
Here's to thee.

Flam.
Your Lordship speaks your Pleasure.

Lucul.

I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt Spirit, give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if the time use thee well. Good part's in thee; get you gone, Sirrah. Draw nearer, honest Flaminius; thy Lord's a bountiful Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou knowest well enough (although thou comest to me) and this is no time to lend Mony, especially upon bare Friendship without Security. Here's three Solidares for thee, good Boy, wink at me, and say, thou sawst me not. Fare thee well.

Flam.
Is't possible the World should so much differ,
And we alive that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness,
To him that worships thee. [Throwing the Mony away.

Lucul.

Ha? Now I see thou art a Fool, and fit for thy Master.

Flam.
May these add to the Number that may scald thee:
Let molten Coin be thy Damnation,
Thou Disease of a Friend, and not himself:
Has Friendship such a faint and milky Heart,
It turns in less than two Nights? O you Gods!
I feel my Master's Passion. This Slave unto his Honour
Has my Lord's meat in him:
Why should it thrive, and come to Nutriment,
When he is turn'd to Poison?
O may Diseases only work upon't:
And when he's sick to Death, let not that part of Nature,
Which my Lord paid for, be of any Power,
To expel Sickness, but prolong his Hour. [Exeunt. Enter Lucius, with three Strangers.

Luc.

Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good Friend, and an honourable Gentleman.

1 Stran.

We know him for no less, tho' we are but Strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my Lord, and which I hear from common Rumours, now Lord Timon's happy Hours are done and past, and his Estate shrinks from him.

Luc.

Fye, no, do not believe it: He cannot want for Mony.

2 Stran.

But believe you this, my Lord, that not long ago, one of his Men was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so many Talents, nay, urg'd extreamly for't, and shewed what necessity belong'd to't, and yet was deny'd.

Luc.

How!

2 Stran.

I tell you, deny'd, my Lord.

Luc.

What a strange Case was that? Now before the Gods I am asham'd on't. Deny'd that honourable Man? There was very little Honour shew'd in that. For my own part, I must needs confess, I have received some small Kindnesses from him, as Mony, Plate, Jewels, and such like Trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet had he mistook him, and sent him to me, I should ne'er have deny'd his Occasion so many Talents.

Enter Servilius.

Ser.

See, by good hap yonder's my Lord, I have sweat to see his Honour.—My honour'd Lord—

Luc.

Servilius! you are kindly met, Sir. Fare thee well, commend me to thy honourable virtuous Lord, my very exquisite Friend.

Ser.

May it please your Honour, my Lord hath sent—

Luc.

Ha! What hath he sent? I am so much endeared to that Lord; he's ever sending: How shall I thank him, think'st thou? And what has he sent now?

Ser.

H'as only sent his present Occasion now, my Lord; requesting your Lordship to supply his instant use, with fifty Talents.

Luc.
I know his Lordship is but merry with me,
He cannot want fifty five hundred Talents.

Ser.
But in the mean time he wants less, my Lord.
If his Occasion were not virtuous,
I should not urge half so faithfully.

Luc.
Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?

Ser.
Upon my Soul 'tis true, Sir.

Luc.

What a wicked Beast was I, to disfurnish my self against such a good time, when I might ha' shewn my self honourable? How unluckily it hapned, that I should purchase the Day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of Honour? Servilius, now before the Gods, I am not able to do—(the more Beast I say)—I was sending to use Lord Timon my self, these Gentlemen can witness; but I would not, for the Wealth of Athens, I had don't now. Commend me bountifully to his good Lordship, and I hope his Honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest Afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable Gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use my own Words to him?

Ser.

Yes, Sir, I shall.

Luc.
I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius.
True as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed,
And he that's once deny'd will hardly speed. [Exit.

1 Stran.
Do you observe this, Hostilius?

2 Stran.
Ay, too well.

1 Stran.
Why, this is the World's Soul;
And just of the same Piece
Is every Flatterers sport: 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 Mony
Has paid his Men their Wages. He ne'er drinks,
But Timon's Silver treads upon his Lip;
And yet, Oh see the monstrousness of Man!
When he looks out in an ungrateful Shape,
He does deny him (in respect of this)
What charitable Men afford to Beggars.

3 Stran.
Religion groans at it.

1 Stran.
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 return'd to him,
So much I love his Heart: But I perceive,
Men must learn now with pity to dispence.
For Policy sits above Conscience. [Exeunt. Enter a third, Servant with Sempronius.

Sem.
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 redeem'd from Prison. All these
Owe their Estates unto him.

Ser.
My Lord,
They have all been touch'd, and all are sound base Metal,
For they have all deny'd him.

Sem.
How? Have they deny'd him?
Has Ventidius and Lucullus deny'd him?
And does he send to me? Three! Hum—
It shews but little Love or Judgment in him.
Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends, like Physicians.

That thriv'd, give him over. Must I take th'Cure upon me?
H'as much disgrac'd 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 'mongst Lords I be thought a Fool:
I'd rather than the worth of thrice the Sum,
H'ad 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. [Exit.

Ser.

Excellent! Your Lordship's a goodly Villain. The Devil knew not what he did, when he made Man Politick; he crossed himself by't: And I cannot think, but in the end the Villanies of Man will set him clear. How fairly this Lord strives to appear foul? Takes virtuous Copies to be wicked: Like those that under hot, ardent Zeal, would set whole Realms on Fire; of such a nature is his politick Love.