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.

PAINTER.
The gods preserve you!

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.