Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--- Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens? Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. Tim. The gods confound them all i' thy con quest; and Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! Alcib. Tim. That, Why me, Timon? By killing villains, thou wast born to conquer Put up thy gold; Go on,-here's gold,-go on; Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison Herself's a bawd: Let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps, That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, Are not within the leaf of pity writ, Set them down horrible traitors: Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse: Swear against objects; Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes; Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy sol diers: Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, Not all thy counsel. Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! Phr. and Tym. Give us some gold, good Timon: Hast thou more? Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, I'll trust to your conditions: Be whores still; Be quite contrary: And thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead;-some that were hang'd, No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face: Phr. and Tym. Well, more gold;-What then?Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold. Tim. Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, And not believes himself: down with the nose, Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate ruffians bald; And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war The source of all erection.-There's more gold:- And ditches grave you all! Phr. and Tym. More counsel, with more money, bounteous Timon. Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest. Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewel, Timon; If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Alcib. I never did thee harm. Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Alcib. Call'st thou that harm? Tim. Men daily find it such. Get thee away, We but offend him. And take thy beagles with thee. Alcib. Strike. [Drum beats. Exeunt Alcibiades, Phrynia, and Tymandra. Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkind ness, Should yet be hungry!-Common mother, thou, [Digging. Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, Enter Apemantus. More man? Plague! plague! Apem. I was directed hither; Men report, Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them. From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel come, To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis most just, That thou turn rascal; had'st thou wealth again, Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st Candied with ice, çaudle thy morning taste, |