grows again toward earth,
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.
To a Servant
Go to Ventidius.
To FLAVIUS
Prithee, be not sad,
Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak.
No blame belongs to thee.
To Servant
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 remember'd
With those five talents.
Exit Servant
To FLAVIUS
That had, give't these fellows
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er 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