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Tim. What! a knave too? Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again, Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before: The one is filling still, never complete;

The other, at high wish: Best state, contentless,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse than the worst, content.

Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable.
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou would'st have plang'd thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows;-I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou
hate men?

They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given?
If thou wilt curse,-thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff'
To some she beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!-
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem. I, that I was

No prodigal.


Art thou proud yet?

I, that I am one now;

Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.-
That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.
(Eating a root.)
Here; I will mend thy feast.
(Offering him something.)
Tim. First mend my company, take away thyself,
Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of


Tim. "Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were.

Apem. What, would'st thou have to Athens? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. Apem. Here is no use for gold. Tim, The best, and truest: For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. Apem. Where ly'st o'nights, Timon? Tim. Under that's above me. Where feed'st thou o'days, Apemantus? Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim. 'Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind!

Apem. Where would'st thou send it?
Tim, To sauce thy dishes.

Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends: When thou wast in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it.

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.
Apem. Dost hate a medlar?

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Apem. Myself.

Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog.

Apem. What things in the world canst thon nearest compare to thy flatterers?

Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What would'st thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. Tim. Would'st thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts? Apem. Ay, Timon.

Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee: if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accused by the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee; and still thou lived st but as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert thou a bear, thou would'st be killed by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou would'st be seized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jarors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion; and thy defence, absence. What beast could'st thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation?

Apem. If thou could'st please me with speaking to me, thou might'st have hit upon it here: The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.

Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

Apem. Yonder comes a poet, and a painter: The plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way: When I know not what else to do, I'll see thee again.

Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.

Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
Tim. 'Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon.
Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad to curse.
Tim. All villains, that do stand by thee, are pore.
Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.
Tim. If I name thee.-

I'll beat thee-but I should infect my hands.
Apem. I would, my tongue could rot them off!
Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
Choler does kill me, that thou art alive;
I swoon to see thee..

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'Would thou would'st burst! Away,

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Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose
A stone by thee.

Rogue, rogue, rogue!
[Apemantus retreats backward, as going.
I am sick of this false world; and will love nought
But even the mere necessities upon it.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others' lives may laugh




O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
(Looking on the gold.)
'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, 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

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!
'Would 'twere so ;-
But not till I am dead!-I'll say, thou hast gold:

Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.


Throng'd to?



Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee.

Live, and love thy misery! Apem. Tim. Long live so, and so die!—I am quit.[Exit Apemantus. More things like men?-Eat, Timon, and abhor them. Enter Thieves.

1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder: The mere want of gold, and the fallingfrom of his friends, drove him into this melancholy. 2 Thief. It is noised, he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him; if he care not for't, he will supply us easily; If he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it?

2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis bid.

1 Thief. Is not this he?

Thieves. Where?

2 Thief. 'Tis his description.
3 Thief. He; I know him.
Thieves. Save thee, Timon.
Tim. Now, thieves?

Thieves, Soldiers, not thieves.
Tim. Both too; and women's sons.

do want.

Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much
Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of
Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs :
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want?
Í Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,


As beasts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds,
and fishes;

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,
That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not
In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape,
Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
Do villany, do, since you profess to do't,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun :
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief;
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves; away;
Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go,

Break open shops; nothing can you steal,
But thieves do lose it: Steal not less, for this
I give you; and gold confound you howsoever
(Timon retires to his cave.)
3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my
profession, by persuading me to it.

1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he
thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.
2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give
over my trade.

Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens: There
is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.
[Exeunt Thieves.


Flav. O you gods!

Is you despis'd and ruinous man my lord?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of honour has

Desperate want made!

What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
When man was wish'd to love his enemies :
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do!
He has caught me in his eye: I will present
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!
Timon comes forward from his cave.
Tim. Away! what art thou?


Have you forgot me, sir?
Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
Flav. An honest poor servant of yours.
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt man, I have forgot thee.


I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man
About me, I; all that I kept were knaves,
To serve in meat to villains.


The gods are witness.
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.
Tim. What, dost thou weep?-Come nearer;-
then I love thee,
and disclaim'st
Because thou art a woman,
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give,
But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping:
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with

Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
To accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts,
To entertain me as your steward still.

Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now
So comfortable? It almost turns

My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold
Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.—
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
One honest man,-mistake me not,-but one;
Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
No more, pray, and he is a steward.-
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee,
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
I fell with curses.

Methinks, thou art more honest now than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou might'st have sooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,
(For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,)
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,

If not a usuring kindness; and as rich men deal

Expecting in return twenty for one?

Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose

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Suspect still comes, where an estate is least.
That which I shew, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
My most honour'd lord,

For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange

For this one wish, That you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.

Tim. Look thee, 'tis so!-Thou singly honest man, Here, take-the gods out of my misery

Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy:
But thus condition'd; Thou shalt build from men;
Hate all, curse all; shew charity to none;
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them,
Debts wither them: Be men like blasted woods,
And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
And so, farewell, and thrive.


And comfort you, my master. Tim.

O, let me stay,

If thou hat'st

Curses, stay not; fly, while thou'rt bless'd and free: Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. [Exeunt severally.


SCENE I. The same. Before Timon's Cave. Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON behind, unseen.

Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.

Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold?

Pain. Certain : Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity: "Tis said, he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Pain. Nothing else you shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will shew honesty in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having.

Poet. What have you now to present unto him? Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece.

Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of an intent that's coming toward him.

Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o'the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will, or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.

Tim. Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself.

Poet. I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him: It must be a personating of himself: a satire against the softness of prosperity; with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet. Nay, let's seek him:

Then do we sin against our own estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.
Pain. True;

When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,
Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.

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Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men? Poet. Sir,

Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, Whose thankless natures-O abhorred spirits! Not all the whips of heaven are large enough— What! to you!

Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude

With any size of words.

Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the better: You, that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seen, and known. Pain. He, and myself, Have travell'd in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Tim. Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our service. Tim. Most honest men! Why, how shall I re

quite you?

Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. Tim. You are honest men: You have heard that

I have gold;

[men. I am sure, you have: speak truth: you are honest Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore Came not my friend, nor I.

Tim. Good honest men:-Thou draw'st a counterfeit

Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best;
Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

So, so, my lord.

Tim. Even so, sir, as I say :-And, for thy fiction,

(To the Poet.) Why, thy verses swell with stuff so fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art.But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, I must needs say, you have a little fault: Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I, You take much pains to mend. Both.

Beseech your honour,

To make it known to us.
You'll take it ill.
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.

Will you indeed?

Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you.


Do we, my lord? Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,

Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd,
That he's a made-up villain.

Pain. I know none such, my lord.

Nor I.

Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you


Rid me these villains from your companies: Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, I'll give you gold enough.

Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them. Tim. You that way, and you this, but two in com

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Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
If where thou art, two villains shall not be,
(To the Painter.)
Come not near him.-If thou would'st not reside
(To the Poet.)
But where one villain is, then him abandon.-
Hence! pack there's gold, ye came for gold, ye

You have done work for me, there's payment: Hence!
You are an alchymist, make gold of that:-
Out, rascal dogs!

And shakes his threat'ning sword

2 Sen.
Against the walls of Athens.
1 Sen.

Therefore, Timon.-
Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir;


If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That-Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain

Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war;
[Exit, beating and driving them out. Then, let him know,—and tell him, Timon speaks it,

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators.

In pity of our aged, and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,
And let him tak't at worst; for their knives care not,
While you have throats to answer: for myself,

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak with There's not a whittle in the unruly camp,


For he is set so only to himself,

That nothing but himself, which looks like man,

Is friendly with him.

1 Sen.

Bring us to his cave:

It is our part, and promise to the Athenians,
To speak with Timon.

2 Sen.

At all times alike

Men are not still the same: 'Twas time and griefs,
That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him: Bring us to him,
And chance it as it may.

Here is his cave.-
Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to friends: The Athenians,
By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:
Speak to them, noble Timon.

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Worthy Timon, Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. 2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. Tim. I thank them; and would send them back the plague,

Could I but catch it for them.

O, forget
1 Sen.
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators, with one consent of love,
Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.

2 Sen.

They confess

Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross :
Which now the public body,-which doth seldom
Play the recanter,-feeling in itself

A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon;
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth,
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.
You witch me in it;
Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll be weep these comforts, worthy senators.
1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens (thine, and ours,) to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority :-so soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild;
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.

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Stay not, all's in vain.
Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness
Of health, and living, now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
And last so long enough!

1 Sen.
We speak in vain.
Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not
One that rejoices in the common wreck,
As common bruit doth put it.

That's well spoke.
1 Sen.
Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen,—
1 Sen. These words become your lips as they pass
through them.
2.Sen. And enter in our ears like great triumphers
Commend me to them;
In their applauding gates.


And tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.
2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again.
Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it; Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself:-I pray you, do my greeting.
Flav. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall
find him.

Tim. Come not to me again: but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
Which once a a day with his embossed froth
The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your oracle.-
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end:
What is amiss, plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works; and death, their gain!
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.
[Exit Timon.
1 Sen. His discontents are unremoveably
Coupled to nature.

2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us return,
And strain what other means is left unto us
In our dear peril.
1 Sen.

It requires swift foot. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-The Walls of Athens.
Enter two Senators and a Messenger.
1 Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files
As full as thy report?

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1 Sen.

Enter Senators from Timon. Here come our brothers. 3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.

The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful sconring Doth choke the air with dust: In, and prepare; Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Woods. Timon's Cave, and a Tomb-stone seen.

Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon.

Sold. By all description this should be the place. Who's here? speak, ho!-No answer?-What is this?

Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span: Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man. Dead, sure; and this his grave.

's on this tomb I cannot read; the character
I'll take with wax:

Our captain bath in every figure skill;
An ag'd interpreter, though young in days:
Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.


SCENE V. Before the Walls of Athens. Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES and Forces. Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious town Our terrible approach. (A parley sounded.)

Enter Senators on the walls.
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice; till now, myself, and such
As slept within the shadow of your power,
Have wander'd with our travers d arms, and breath'd
Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong,
Cries, of itself, No more: now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;
And pursy indolence shall break his wind
With fear, and horrid flight.

1 Sen.
Noble, and young,
When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear,
We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
Above their quantity.

2 Sen.

So did we woo

Transformed Timon to our city's love,

By humble message, and by promis'd means:
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common stroke of war.

1 Sen.

These walls of ours Were not erected by their hands, from whom You have receiv'd your griefs: nor are they such, That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall

For private faults in them.

Nor are they living,

2 Sen. Who were the motives that you first went out; Shame, that they wunted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread: By decimation, and a tithed death, (If thy revenges hunger for that food, Which nature loaths,) take thou the destin'd tenth; And by the hazard of the spotted die, Let die the spotted.

1 Sen. All have not offended; For those that were, it is not square to take, On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands, Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage: Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin, Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall With those that have offended: like a shepherd, Approach the fold, and cull the infected forth, But kill not all together.

2 Sen.

What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile, Than hew to't with thy sword.

1 Sen.
Set but thy foot
Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope;
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
To say, thou'lt enter friendly.
2 Sen.
Throw thy glove,
Or any token of thine honour else,
That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress,
And not as our confusion, all thy powers
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.
Then there's my glove;
Descend, and open your uncharged ports:
Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own,
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof,
Fall, and no more: and,-to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning,—not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
But shall be remedied, to your public laws,
At heaviest answer.

"Tis most nobly spoken.
Alcib. Descend, and keep your words.
The Senators descend, and open the gates.

Enter a Soldier.

Sol. My noble general, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o'the sea: And, on his grave-stone, this insculpture; which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interpret, for my poor ignorance.

Alcib. (Reads.) Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:

Seek not my name: A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!

Here lie I Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate; Pass by, and curse thy fill, but pass, and stay not

here thy gait.

These well express in thee thy latter spirits: Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, Scorn'dst our brain's flow, and those our droplets


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