I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received

Timon
I’ll hunt with him; and let them be received,
Not without fair reward. Servant exits.
Flavius, aside
What will this come to?
He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,
And all out of an empty coffer.

Happier is he that has no friend to feed
Than such that do e’en enemies exceed.

Nor will he know his purse or yield me this—
To show him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good.
His promises fly so beyond his state
That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes
For ev’ry word. He is so kind that he
Now pays interest for ’t. His land’s put to their books.
Well, would I were gently put out of office
Before I were forced out.
Happier is he that has no friend to feed
Than such that do e’en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord. He exits.
Timon, to Lords
You do yourselves much wrong.
You bate too much of your own merits.
(Offering a gift.) Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.