Ser.

My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate newly alighted, and come to visit you.

Tim.

They are fairly welcome,

Flav.

I beseech your honour, vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

Tim.

Near! why then another time I'll hear thee. I pr'ythee let's be provided to shew them entertainment.

Flav.

I scarce know how.

2 Ser.

May it please your honour, lord Lucius, out of his free love, hath presented to you four milk-white horses trapt in silver.

Tim.
I shall accept them fairly: let the presents
Be worthily entertain'd. Enter a third Servant.
How now? what news?

3 Ser.

Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of grey-hounds.

Tim.

I'll hunt with him; and let them be received, not without fair reward.

Flav.

What will this come to? he commands us to provide, and give great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer:

His promises fly so beyond his state,
That what he speaks is all in debt, owes for ev'ry word:
He is so kind, that he pays interest for't;
His land's put to their books. Well, would I were
Gently put out of office, ere I were forc'd.
Happier is he that has no friend to feed,
Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit.

Tim.

You do your selves much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits. Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.

1 Lord.

With more than common thanks I will receive it.

3 Lord.

He has the very soul of bounty.

Tim.

And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on. 'Tis yours, because you lik'd it.

2 Lord.

Oh, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.

Tim.

You may take my word, my lord: I know no man can justly praise, but what he does affect. I weigh my friends affection with my own; I'll tell you true, I'll call on you.

All Lords.
O none so welcome.

Tim.
I take all, and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give,
Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends,
And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,
It comes in charity to thee; thy living
Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lye in a pitcht field.

Alc.
I defie land, my lord.

1 Lord.
We are so virtuously bound—

Tim.
And so am I to you.

2 Lord.
So infinitely endear'd—

Tim.
All to you. Lights! more lights, more lights.

3 Lord.
The best of happiness, honour and fortunes,
Keep you, lord Timon—

Tim.
Ready for his friends. [Exeunt lords.

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