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FIRST SENATOR. 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.
SECOND SENATOR. 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, n.o.ble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread.
By decimation and a t.i.thed 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 SENATOR. All have not offended; For those that were, it is not square to take, On those that are, revenge: 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 bl.u.s.ter 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.
SECOND SENATOR. What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Than hew to't with thy sword.
FIRST SENATOR. Set but thy foot Against our rampir'd gates and they shall ope, So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before To say thou't enter friendly.
SECOND SENATOR. 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.
ALCIBIADES. 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 n.o.ble meaning, not a man Shall pa.s.s 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.
BOTH. 'Tis most n.o.bly spoken.
ALCIBIADES. Descend, and keep your words.
[The SENATORS descend and open the gates]
Enter a SOLDIER as a Messenger
SOLDIER. My n.o.ble General, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o' th' sea; And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance.
ALCIBIADES reads the Epitaph
'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.
Pa.s.s by, and curse thy fill; but pa.s.s, 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 n.i.g.g.ard nature fall, yet rich conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead Is n.o.ble 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.
Let our drums strike. Exeunt
THE END