If I would broach the vessels of my love, And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak. FLAVIUS. Assurance bless your thoughts! TIMON. And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd That I account them blessings; for by these Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends. Within there! Flaminius! Servilius! Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and another SERVANT SERVANTS. My lord! my lord! TIMON. I will dispatch you severally- you to Lord Lucius; to Lord Lucullus you; I hunted with his honour to-day. You to Sempronius. Commend me to their loves; and I am proud, say, that my occasions have found time to use 'em toward a supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents. FLAMINIUS. As you have said, my lord. Exeunt SERVANTS FLAVIUS. [Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh! TIMON. Go you, sir, to the senators, Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have Deserv'd this hearing. Bid 'em send o' th' instant A thousand talents to me. FLAVIUS. I have been bold, For that I knew it the most general way, To them to use your signet and your name; But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return. TIMON. Is't true? Can't be? FLAVIUS. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry- you are honourable- But yet they could have wish'd- they know not- Something hath been amiss- a noble nature May catch a wrench- would all were well!- 'tis pity- And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence. TIMON. You gods, reward them! Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary. Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashion'd for the journey dull and heavy. Go to Ventidius. Prithee be not sad, Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak, No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately Buried his father, by whose death he's stepp'd Into a great estate. When he was poor, Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, I clear'd him with five talents. Greet him from me, Bid him suppose some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be rememb'red With those five talents. That had, give't these fellows To whom 'tis instant due. Nev'r speak or think That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink. FLAVIUS. I would I could not think it. That thought is bounty's foe; Being free itself, it thinks all others so. Exeunt