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Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all mindsAs well of glib and slippery creatures as Of grave and austere quality-tender down Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties' to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd 10 flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better

1 Comes off well, is a creditable piece of work.

2 Big, pregnant; or merely, powerful, mighty.

3 Interpret, play the interpreter.

+ Artificial strife, the strife of art to emulate nature. 3 Moe, more.

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6 Halts not particularly, does not stop at any single person. 7 Levell'd, aimed at any particular person.

8 Tract, trace, track.

9 Properties, makes property of, appropriates.

10 Glass-fac'd, reflecting like a mirror the looks of his patron.

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Pain. [Presenting his painting] A piece of painting, which I do beseech

Your lordship to accept.

Tim. Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work; And you shall find I like it: wait attendance Till you hear further from me.

Pain. The gods preserve ye! Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; We must needs dine together.-Sir, your jewel Hath suffer'd under praise.

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Apem. Ay, to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools.

Sec. Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Sec. Lord. Why, Apemantus?

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.

First Lord. Hang thyself!

Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy requests to thy friend.

Sec. Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

ass.

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Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the [Exit. First Lord. He's opposite to humanity.Come, shall we in,

And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes The very heart of kindness.

Sec. Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,

Is but his steward: no meed5 but he repays
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.

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First Lord. The noblest mind he carries
That ever govern'd man.
Sec. Lord.

In fortunes!-Shall we in?
First Lord.

Long may he live I'll keep you company. [Exeunt.

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