Dead, sure; and this his grave.

So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,

What's on this tomb I cannot read; the character To say, thoul't enter friendly.

I'll take with wax.

Enter Senators on the walls.

Till now you have gone on, and filled 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,2
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 insolence 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 to 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 ;3
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.

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, noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spread:

By decimation, and a tithed death,

(If thy revenges hunger for that food,

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
Snall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.

Alcib.
Then there's my glove;
Descend, and open your uncharged ports;*
Those enemies of Timon's and mine own,
Whom you yoursel es 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.

Both.
"Tis most nobly spoken.
Alcib. Descend, and keep your words.

The Senators descend, and open the gates. Enter a Soldier.

Sold. 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
Interprets for my poor ignorance.

Alcib. [Reads.] Here lies a wretched corse, of
wretched soul bereft :

Seek not my name: A plague consume you wicked caitiff's 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 abhor'dst in us our human griefs,
Scorn'dst our brain'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 sword:
Make war breed peace; make peace stint war;
make each

Prescribe to other, as each other's leech."

Which nature loaths,) take thou the destined tenth; Let our drums strike.
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.

[Exeunt.

The play of Timon is a domestic tragedy, and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of the reader. In the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery, but not friendship.

In this tragedy, are many passages perplexed, obscure, and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify, or explain with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promise myself that my endeavours shall be much applauded. JOHNSON.

(4) Not regular, not equitable.
(5) Unattacked gates. (6) Reconcile.
(7) i. e. Our tears. (8) Stop. (9) Physician.
2 P

2 Cit. One word, good citizens.

scienc'd men can be content to say, it was for his country, he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud; which he is, even to the altitude of

his virtue.

2 Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him: You must in no way say, he is covetous.

1 Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side o'the city is risen: Why stay we prating here? to the Capitol.

Cit. Come, come.

1 Cit. Soft; who comes here?

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people.

1 Cit. He's one honest enough; 'Would, all the rest were so!

Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand?
Where go you

you.

1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens: the patricians, good: What authority surfeits on, would relieve us; If they would yield us but the super- With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray fluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess, they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are 1 Cit. Our business is not unknown to the senate; too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we inof our misery, is as an inventory to particularize tend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. They say, poor suitors have strong breaths; they Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become shall know, we have strong arms too. rakes: for the gods know, I speak this in hunger Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine for bread, not in thirst for revenge. honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves?

2 Cit. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?

Cit. Against him first; he's a very dog to the commonalty.

2 Cit. Consider you what services he has done for his country?

1 Cit. Very well; and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud.

2 Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously. 1 Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end: though soft-con(2) Thin as rakes.

(1) Rich.

1 Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lift them
Against the Roman state; whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder, than can ever
Appear in your impediment: For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it; and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by calamity

Thither where more attends you; and you slander

Below their cobbled shoes. They say, there's grain Tit.

1 Sen. Then, worthy Marcius, Auf. Attend upon Cominius to these wars. Com. It is your former promise. Mar,

Whether for east, or west: The dearth is great;
The people mutinous: and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old

enemy,

(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you :
Consider of it.

1 Sen.

Our army's in the field:

We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.

Nor did you think it folly,

Auf
To keep your great pretences veil'd, till when
They needs must show themselves; which in the
hatching,

It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,
We shall be shorten'd in our aim; which was
To take in' many towns, ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were afoot.

2 Sen.

Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli:

If they set down before us, for the remove
Bring up your army; but, I think, you'll find
They have not prepared for us.
Auf.

O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more.
Some parcels of their powers are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike
Till one can do more.

All.

The gods assist you!

Auf. And keep your honours safe!

1 Sen.

2 Sen.

Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire

myself.

Vol. Indeed, you shall not.

Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum;
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;
As children from a bear, the Volces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,-
Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome: "His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes;
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords' contending.-Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.

[Exit Gent.
Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius.
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck.
Re-enter Gentlewoman, with Valeria and her
Usher.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you.
Vol. Sweet madam,-

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What, are you sewing here? A fine spot,* in good faith.-How does your little son?

Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, that look upon his school-master.

Farewell. Val. O'my word, the father's son: I'll swear, 'tis Farewell. a very pretty boy. O'my troth, I look'd upon him [Exeunt. o'Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a

All. Farewell. SCENE III.—Rome. An apartment in Marcius' gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it house. Enter Volumnia, and Virgilia: They go again; and after it again; and over and over sit down on two low stools, and sew. he comes, and up again; catched it again: or

Vol. One of his father's moods.
Val. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.
Vir. A crack, madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express your-whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did self in a more comfortable sort: If my son were so set his teeth, and tear it; O, I warrant, how he my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that ab- mammocked' it! sence wherein he won honour, that in the embrace-j ments of his bed, where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, for a day of king's entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,-considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,-was pleased to let him seek dan-ger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter,-I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a

Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
Val. Not out of doors?
Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars. Val. Fie, you confine yourself most unreason bly; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would, your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

Val. In truth, la, go wi.h me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.