PHILOTUS.
Labouring for nine.

LUCIUS' SERVANT.
So much?

PHILOTUS.
Is not my lord seen yet?

LUCIUS' SERVANT.
Not yet.

PHILOTUS.
I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.

LUCIUS' SERVANT.
Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him:
You must consider that a prodigal course
Is like the sun's, but not, like his, recoverable.
I fear,
'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse;
That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet
Find little.

PHILOTUS.
I am of your fear for that.

TITUS.
I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
Your lord sends now for money.