Page 3187 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

But, for all this, my honest-natur’d friends,
I must needs say you have a little fault; [85]
Marry, ’tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.

BOTH
Beseech your honour

To make it known to us.

TIMON
You’ll take it ill.

BOTH
Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON
Will you indeed?

BOTH
Doubt it not, worthy lord. [90]

TIMON
There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave,

That mightily deceives you.

BOTH
Do we, my lord?

TIMON
Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom; yet remain assur’d [95]

That he’s a made-up villain.

PAINTER
I know none such, my lord.