And we aliue that liued? Fly damned basenesse
To him that worships thee

Luc. Ha? Now I see thou art a Foole, and fit for thy
Master.

Exit L[ucullus].

Flam. May these adde to the number y may scald thee:
Let moulten Coine be thy damnation,
Thou disease of a friend, and not himselfe:
Has friendship such a faint and milkie heart,
It turnes in lesse then two nights? O you Gods!
I feele my Masters passion. This Slaue vnto his Honor,
Has my Lords meate in him:
Why should it thriue, and turne to Nutriment,
When he is turn'd to poyson?
O may Diseases onely worke vpon't:
And when he's sicke to death, let not that part of Nature
Which my Lord payd for, be of any power
To expell sicknesse, but prolong his hower.
Enter.

Enter Lucius, with three strangers.

Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend
and an Honourable Gentleman

1 We know him for no lesse, thogh we are but strangers
to him. But I can tell you one thing my Lord, and