1 And late, five thousand: to Varro and to Isidore 2 He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, 3 Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion 4 Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. 5 If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog, 6 And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. 7 If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more 8 Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, 9 Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, 10 And able horses. No porter at his gate, 11 But rather one that smiles and still invites 12 All that pass by. It cannot hold: no reason 13 Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho! 14 Caphis, I say!
15 Here, sir; what is your pleasure?
16 Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon; 17 Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased 18 With slight denial, nor then silenced when-- 19 'Commend me to your master'--and the cap 20 Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him, 21 My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 22 Out of mine own; his days and times are past 23 And my reliances on his fracted dates 24 Have smit my credit: I love and honour him, 25 But must not break my back to heal his finger; 26 Immediate are my needs, and my relief 27 Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, 28 But find supply immediate. Get you gone: 29 Put on a most importunate aspect, 30 A visage of demand; for, I do fear, 31 When every feather sticks in his own wing, 32 Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, 33 Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
34 I go, sir.
35 'I go, sir!'--Take the bonds along with you, 36 And have the dates in contempt.