TIMON, ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, AND TIMANDRA.
Alcibiades. 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 in thy
conquest; and thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!
Alcib. Why me, Timon?
Tim. 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-vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air: Let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,
He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest.
Painted by John Opie, R.A. Engraved by Robert Thew.