TIMON.
I know thee too, and more than that I know thee
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum,
With man’s blood paint the ground gules, gules.
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel,
Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.
PHRYNIA.
Thy lips rot off!
TIMON.
I will not kiss thee, then the rot returns
To thine own lips again.
ALCIBIADES.
How came the noble Timon to this change?
TIMON.
As the moon does, by wanting light to give.
But then renew I could not like the moon;
There were no suns to borrow of.
ALCIBIADES.
Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?
TIMON.
None, but to maintain my opinion.
ALCIBIADES.
What is it, Timon?
TIMON.
Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man. If thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art a man.
ALCIBIADES.
I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.