FLAMINIUS.
Is't possible the world should so much differ,
And we alive that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness,
To him that worships thee.

[Throwing the money away.]

LUCULLUS.
Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.

[Exit.]

FLAMINIUS.
May these add to the number that may scald thee!
Let molten coin be thy damnation,
Thou disease of a friend, and not himself!
Has friendship such a faint and milky heart
It turns in less than two nights? O you gods!
I feel my master's passion! This slave unto his honour
Has my lord's meat in him:
Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment
When he is turn'd to poison?
O! may diseases only work upon't!
And when he's sick to death, let not that part of nature
Which my lord paid for, be of any power
To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.

[Exit.]