The Life of Tymon of Athens — Act 5 Scene 4

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powersbefore Athens.

Alc.Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne,Our terrible approach.Sounds a Parly.The Senators appeare vpon the wals.Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the timeWith all Licentious measure, making your willesThe scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe and suchAs slept within the shadow of your powerHaue wander'd with our trauerst Armes, and breath'dOur sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush,When crouching Marrow in the bearer strongCries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong,Shall sit and pant in your great Chaires of ease,And pursie Insolence shall breake his windeWith feare and horrid flight.

1. Sen.Noble, and young;When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit,Ere thou had'st power, or we had cause of feare,We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme,To wipe out our Ingratitude, with LouesAboue their quantitie.

2So did we wooeTransformed Timon, to our Citties loueBy humble Message, and by promist meanes:We were not all vnkinde, nor all deserueThe common stroke of warre.

1These walles of ours,Were not erected by their hands, from whomYou haue receyu'd your greefe: Nor are they such,That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools shold fallFor priuate faults in them.

2Nor are they liuingWho were the motiues that you first went out,(Shame that they wanted, cunning in excesse)Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord,Into our City with thy Banners spred,By decimation and a tythed death;If thy Reuenges hunger for that FoodWhich Nature loathes, take thou the destin'd tenth,And by the hazard of the spotted dye,Let dye the spotted.

1All haue not offended:For those that were, it is not square to takeOn those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like LandsAre not inherited, then deere Countryman,Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage,Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those KinWhich in the bluster of thy wrath must fallWith those that haue offended, like a Shepheard,Approach the Fold, and cull th'infected forth,But kill not altogether.

2What thou wilt,Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile,Then hew too't, with thy Sword.

1Set but thy footAgainst our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope:So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,To say thou't enter Friendly.

2Throw thy Gloue,Or any Token of thine Honour else,That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse,And not as our Confusion: All thy PowersShall make their harbour in our Towne, till weeHaue seal'd thy full desire.

Alc.Then there's my Gloue,Defend and open your vncharged Ports,Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owneWhom you your selues shall set out for reproofe,Fall and no more; and to attone your fearesWith my more Noble meaning, not a manShall passe his quarter, or offend the streameOf Regular Iustice in your Citties bounds,But shall be remedied to your publique LawesAt heauiest answer.

Both.'Tis most Nobly spoken.

Alc.Descend, and keepe your words.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes.My Noble Generall, Timon is dead,Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th'Sea,And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture whichWith wax I brought away: whose soft ImpressionInterprets for my poore ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft,Seek not my name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left:Heere lye I Timon, who aliue, all liuing men did hate,Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe and stay not here thy gate.These well expresse in thee thy latter spirits:Though thou abhorrd'st in vs our humane griefes,Scornd'st our Braines flow, and those our droplets, whichFrom niggard Nature fall; yet Rich ConceitTaught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for ayeOn thy low Graue, on faults forgiuen. DeadIs Noble Timon, of whose MemorieHeereafter more. Bring me into your Citie,And I will vse the Oliue, with my Sword:Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make eachPrescribe to other, as each others Leach.Exeunt.Let our Drummes strike.