I like your work,
And you shall find I like it; wait attendance
Till you hear further from me.
PAINTER. The gods preserve ye!
TIMON. Well fare you, gentleman. Give me your hand;
We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
Hath suffered under praise.
JEWELLER. What, my lord! Dispraise?
TIMON. A mere satiety of commendations;
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.
JEWELLER. My lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give; but you well know
Things of like value, differing in the owners,
Are prized by their masters. Believe't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
TIMON. Well mock'd.
Enter APEMANTUS
MERCHANT. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.
TIMON. Look who comes here; will you be chid?
JEWELLER. We'll bear, with your lordship.
MERCHANT. He'll spare none.
TIMON. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
APEMANTUS. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
TIMON. Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou know'st them not.
APEMANTUS. Are they not Athenians?
TIMON. Yes.
APEMANTUS. Then I repent not.
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