Dem. Ah, but I intend to marry next year; my child—which is to be a boy—I hereby name Timon.
Tim. I doubt whether you will feel like marrying, my man, when I have given you—this!
Dem. Oh Lord! what is that for? … You are plotting a coup d’etat, you Timon; you assault free men, and you are neither a free man nor a citizen yourself. You shall soon be called to account for your crimes; it was you set fire to the Acropolis, for one thing.
Tim. Why, you scoundrel, the Acropolis has not been set on fire; you are a common blackmailer.
Dem. You got your gold by breaking into the Treasury.
Tim. It has not been broken into, either; you are not even plausible.
Dem. There is time for the burglary yet; meantime, you are in possession of the treasures.
Tim. Well, here is another for you, anyhow.
Dem. Oh! oh! my back!
Tim. Don’t make such a noise, if you don’t want a third. It would be too absurd, you know, if I could cut two companies of Spartans to pieces without my armour, and not be able to give a single little scoundrel his deserts. My Olympic boxing and wrestling victories would be thrown away.