Act III - Act III, Scene 1
Scene I. Athens. A Room in LUCULLUS' House.
[Enter a SERVANT to him.]
I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.
I thank you, sir.
Here's my lord.
[Aside.] One of Lord Timon's men! a gift, I warrant. Why, this
hits right; I dreamt of a silver basin and ewer to-night.
Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively
welcome, sir. Fill me some wine.
And how does that honourable, complete, freehearted
gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master?
His health is well, sir.
I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what
hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?
Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; which in my lord's
behalf, I come to entreat 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
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' dined with him, and told him
on't; and come again to supper to him, of purpose to have him
spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning
by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha'
told him on't, but I could ne'er get him from it.
[Re-enter SERVANT with wine.]
Please your lordship, here is the wine.
Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee.
Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
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 parts in
thee. [To SERVANT.]--Get you gone, sirrah.--
Draw nearer, honest Flaminius.Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman;
but thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough, although thou
comest to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon
bare friendship without security. Here's three solidares for
thee: good boy, wink at me, and say thou sawest me not. Fare thee
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 money away.]
Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.
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 turn 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.