My Lord, Here Is My Bill!

My lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him. Enter timon in a rage. What are my doors? Opposed against my passage? Have i been ever free? And must my house be my retentive enemy? My jail, the place which i weasted? Does it now like all mankind? Show me an iron heart. Cut my heart in sums and 50 talents. Tell out my blood. Five thousand crows pays. That what yours and yours.