APEMANTUS.
I would my tongue could rot them off!
TIMON.
Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me that thou art alive.
I swoon to see thee.
APEMANTUS.
Would thou wouldst burst!
TIMON.
Away, thou tedious rogue!
I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.
[Throws a stone at him.]
APEMANTUS.
Beast!
TIMON.
Slave!
APEMANTUS.
Toad!
TIMON.
Rogue, rogue, rogue!
I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
But even the mere necessities upon’t.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave.
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy gravestone daily. Make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others’ lives may laugh.
[To the gold.] O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce
’Twixt natural son and sire; thou bright defiler
Of Hymen’s purest bed, thou valiant Mars;
Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian’s lap; thou visible god,
That solder’st close impossibilities
And mak’st them kiss, that speak’st with every tongue
To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts,
Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!
APEMANTUS.
Would ’twere so!
But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou’st gold;
Thou wilt be thronged to shortly.