* Some beast rear'd this; here does not live a man. Dead, fure, and this his grave; what's on this tomb? I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax; Our Captain hath in every figure skill, An ag'd interpreter, tho' young in days: Before proud Athens he's set down by this, art Who's Fall the mark of his ambition is.

p

10

Alc.

SCENE V.

Before the Walls of Athens.

[Exit.

Trumpets found. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers.
OUND to this coward and lafcivious town
Our terrible Approach.

S

[Sound a parley. The Senators appear
upon 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 fuch
As flept within the shadow of your Power,
Have wander'd with our traverst arms, and breath'd
Our fufferance vainly. Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
Cries, of itself, no more: now breathless wrong
Shall fit and pant in your great Chairs of ease,
And pursy Infolence shall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.

1 Sen. Noble and young,

When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,

* Some beaft read this; here does not live a man. Some Beast read what? The Soldier had yet only seen the rude Pile of Earth heap'd up for Timon's Grave, and not the Inscription upon it. We should read,

Some Beast rear'd this;

The Soldier seeking, by order, for Timon, sees such an irregular Mole, as he concludes must have been the Workmanship of some Beast inhabiting the Woods; and fuch a Cavity, as either must have been so over-arch'd, or happen'd by the cafual falling in of the Ground.

Ere

Ere thou hadft power, or we had cause to fear;
We fent 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 'mends:
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 tow'rs, trophies, and schools should

fall

For private faults in them.

2 Sen. Nor are they living,

Who were the motives that you first went out:
Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess
Hath broke their hearts. March on, oh, noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spreadi;005)

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, revenge: Crimes, like to 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 blufter of thy wrath must fall
With those that have offended; like a shepherd,
Approach the fold, and cull th' 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 fword.

1

1 Sen. Set but thy foot

Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope:
So thou wilt fend 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 confufion: all thy Powers
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have feal'd thy full defire.

Alc. 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; 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 by public laws
At heaviest answer.

Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken.
Alc. Descend, and keep your words.

Enter a Soldier.

Sol. My noble General, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o'th' fea; And on the grave-stone this Insculpture, which With wax I brought away; whose soft impreffion Interpreteth for my poor ignorance.

[Alcibiades reads the epitaph.]

Here lies a wretched coarse, of wretched foul bereft:
Seek not my name: a plague confume you caitiffs left !
Here lie I Timon, who all living men did hate,
Pass by, and curse thy fill, but stay not here thy gait.

These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
Tho thou abhor'dst in us our human griefs,

Scorn'd

Scorn'd our brine's flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard nature fall; yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave. - On: faults forgiven. - Dead
Is noble Timon, of whose memory
Hereafter more Bring me into your City,
And I will use the Olive with my fword;

Make War breed Peace; make Peace stint War;