Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordship, neuer may
That state or Fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you.

Exit

Poet. Vouchsafe my Labour,
And long liue your Lordship

Tim. I thanke you, you shall heare from me anon:
Go not away. What haue you there, my Friend?
Pain. A peece of Painting, which I do beseech
Your Lordship to accept

Tim. Painting is welcome.
The Painting is almost the Naturall man:
For since Dishonor Traffickes with mans Nature,
He is but out-side: These Pensil'd Figures are
Euen such as they giue out. I like your worke,
And you shall finde I like it; Waite attendance
Till you heare further from me

Pain. The Gods preserue ye

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand.
We must needs dine together: sir your Iewell
Hath suffered vnder praise

Iewel. What my Lord, dispraise?
Tim. A meere saciety of Commendations,