* Some beaft rear'd this; hère does not live a man. [Exit. V. Trumpets found. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers. OUND to this coward and lafcivious town Alc. Our terrible Approach. [Sound a parley. The Senators appear 'Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time Have wander'd with our traverft arms, and breath'd 1 Sen. Noble and young, When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, Some beast read this; here does not live a man.] Some Beaft read what? The Soldier had yet only seen the rude Pile of Earth heap'd up for Timon's Grave, and not the Infcription upon it. We should read, Some Beaft rear'd this; The Soldier feeking, by order, for Timon, fees fuch an irregular Mole, as he concludes must have been the Workmanship of fome Beast inhabiting the Woods; and fuch a Cavity, as either must have been so over-arch'd, or happen'd by the casual falling in of the Ground. Ere Ere thou hadft power, or we had cause to fear; 2 Sen. So did we woo By humble meffage, and by promis'd 'mends: 1 Sen. These walls of ours Were not erected by their hands, from whom For private faults in them. 2 Sen. Nor are they living, Who were the motives that you firft went out : Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts. March on, oh, noble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread; 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 thofe that were, it is not fquare to take On those that are, revenge: Crimes, like to lands, 2 Sen. What thou wilt, Thou rather fhalt enforce it with thy fmile, 1 Sen. Set but thy foot Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall So thou wilt fend thy gentle heart before, 2 Sen. Throw thy glove, ope: Or any token of thine Honour elfe, Alc. Then there's my glove; Defcend, and open your uncharged ports; Both. 'Tis moft nobly spoken. Alc. Defcend, and keep your words. Enter a Soldier. Sol. My noble General, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o'th' sea; And on the grave-ftone this Infculpture, which With wax I brought away; whose foft impreffion Interpreteth for my poor ignorance. [Alcibiades reads the epitaph.] Here lies a wretched coarfe, of wretched foul bereft: Thefe well express in thee thy latter fpirits: Scorn'd Scorn'd our brine's flow, and those our droplets, which Hereafter more And I will ufe the Bring me into your City, Olive with my fword; Make War breed Peace; make Peace ftint War; make each Prefcribe to other, as each other's Leach. Let our drums ftrike.. Exeunt. TITUS |