LUCIUS. Mark how strange it shows, Timon in this should pay more than he owes, And e’en as if your lord should wear rich jewels And send for money for ’em. HORTENSIUS. I’m weary of this charge, the gods can witness. I know my lord hath spent of Timon’s wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth. FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. Yes, mine’s three thousand crowns. What’s yours? LUCIUS. Five thousand mine. FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. ’Tis much deep, and it should seem by th’ sum Your master’s confidence was above mine, Else surely his had equalled. Enter Flaminius. TITUS. One of Lord Timon’s men. LUCIUS. Flaminius? Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord ready to come forth? FLAMINIUS. No, indeed he is not. TITUS. We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much. FLAMINIUS. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent. [_Exit Flaminius._] Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled. LUCIUS. Ha, is not that his steward muffled so? He goes away in a cloud. Call him, call him. TITUS. Do you hear, sir? SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT. By your leave, sir. FLAVIUS. What do you ask of me, my friend? TITUS. We wait for certain money here, sir. FLAVIUS. Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, ’Twere sure enough. Why then preferred you not your sums and bills When your false masters eat of my lord’s meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, And take down th’ interest into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up, Let me pass quietly. Believe’t, my lord and I have made an end, I have no more to reckon, he to spend. LUCIUS. Ay, but this answer will not serve. FLAVIUS. If ’twill not serve, ’tis not so base as you, For you serve knaves. [_Exit._] FIRST VARRO’S SERVANT. How? What does his cashiered worship mutter? SECOND VARRO’S SERVANT. No matter what, he’s poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings. Enter Servilius. TITUS. O, here’s Servilius; now we shall know some answer. SERVILIUS. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from’t. For take’t of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him, he’s much out of health and keeps his chamber. LUCIUS. Many do keep their chambers are not sick. And if it be so far beyond his health, Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts And make a clear way to the gods. SERVILIUS. Good gods! TITUS. We cannot take this for answer, sir. FLAMINIUS. [_Within_.] Servilius, help! My lord, my lord! Enter Timon in a rage. TIMON. What, are my doors opposed against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my jail? The place which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? LUCIUS. Put in now, Titus. TITUS. My lord, here is my bill. LUCIUS. Here’s mine. HORTENSIUS. And mine, my lord. BOTH VARRO’S SERVANTS. And ours, my lord.