ALCIBIADES I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
TIMON How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
I had rather be alone.
ALCIBIADES Why, fare thee well:
Here is some gold for thee.
TIMON Keep it, I cannot eat it.
ALCIBIADES When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--
TIMON Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?
ALCIBIADES Ay, Timon, and have cause.
TIMON The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
ALCIBIADES Why me, Timon?
TIMON That, by killing of villains,
Thou wast born to conquer my country.
Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
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,
But 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 pronounced 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.
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