Enter A SENATOR, with papers in his hand
SENATOR. And late, five thousand. To Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. If I would sell my horse and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis, ho! Caphis, I say!
Enter CAPHIS CAPHIS. Here, sir; what is your pleasure? SENATOR. Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon; Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'd With slight denial, nor then silenc'd when 'Commend me to your master' and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus; but tell him My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own; his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit. I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone; Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand; for I do fear, When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. CAPHIS. I go, sir. SENATOR. Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in compt. CAPHIS. I will, sir. SENATOR. Go. Exeunt
