Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;
And pursy insolence shall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.

FIRST 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.

SEC. 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.

FIRST 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.

SEC. 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 tithèd death

(If thy revenges hunger for that food,

Which nature loathes), take thou the destin'd tenth ;
And by the hazard of the spotted die

Let die the spotted.

FIRST 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.

SEC. SEN.

What thou wilt,

Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile

Than hew to't with thy sword.

FIRST SEN.

Set but thy foot

Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope;
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,

Το

say thou't enter friendly. SEC. SEN.

Throw thy glove,

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30

40

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.

ALCIB.
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 render'd to your public laws
At heaviest answer.

Вотн.

"Tis most nobly spoken.

ALCIB. Descend, and keep your words.

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60

[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 : 70
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 which

From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit

Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye

On thy low grave, on faults forgiven.

Is noble Timon: of whose memory

Dead

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.-

Let our drums strike.

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[Exeunt.

JULIUS CESAR

JULIUS CÆSAR

DRAMATIS PERSONE

OCTAVIUS CÆSAR,

MARCUS ANTONIUS, triumvirs after the death of Julius Cæsar

SCENE-During a great part of the play at Rome; afterwards at Sardis, and near Philippi

62

JULIUS CÆSAR

ACT I

SCENE I.-Rome. A Street

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens

FLAV. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home:
Is this a holiday? what! know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day without the sign

Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou?
FIRST CIT. Why, sir, a carpenter.

MAR. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?—

You, sir, what trade are you?

SEC. CIT. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

MAR. But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

II

FIRST CIT. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. MAR. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

SEC. CIT. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

MAR. What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!

SEC. CIT. Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAV. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

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SEC. CIT. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather have gone upon my handiwork. FLAV. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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SEC. CIT. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into

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