Page 3127 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

But yet they could have wish’d − they know not;
Something hath been amiss − a noble nature [210]
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! [215]

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, [220]

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 [225]
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 [230]
With those five talents. 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.

STEWARD
I would I could not think it.
That thought is bounty’s foe; [235]
Being free itself, it thinks all others so.

[Exeunt]