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* Some beaft rear'd this; hère does not live a man.
Dead, fure, and this his grave; what's on this tomb?
I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax;
Our Captain hath in every figure skill,
An ag'd interpreter, tho' young in days:
Before proud Athens he's fet down by this,
Who's Fall the mark of his ambition is.

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[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
upon the walls.

'Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of juftice. 'Till now myself, and such
As flept within the fhadow of your Power,

Have wander'd with our traverft arms, and breath'd
Our fufferance vainly. Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow in the bearer ftrong
Cries, of itself, no more: now breathlefs wrong
Shall fit and pant in your great Chairs of ease,
And purfy Infolence fhall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.

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;
We fent 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 meffage, and by promis'd 'mends:
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common ftroke 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 fuch,
That these great tow'rs, trophies, and fchools fhould
fall

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,
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 blufter of thy wrath must fall
With those that have offended; like a fhepherd,
Approach the fold, and cull th' infected forth;
But kill not all together.

2 Sen. What thou wilt,

Thou rather fhalt enforce it with thy fmile,
Than hew to't with thy fword.

1 Sen. Set but thy foot

Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall

So thou wilt fend thy gentle heart before,
To fay, thou'lt enter friendly.

2 Sen. Throw thy glove,

ope:

Or any token of thine Honour elfe,
That thou wilt ufe the wars as thy redress,
And not as our confusion: all thy Powers
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
Have feal'd thy full defire.

Alc. Then there's my glove;

Defcend, and open your uncharged ports;
Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own,
Whom you yourselves fhall fet out for reproof,
Fall, and no more; to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pafs his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular juftice in your city's bounds;
But fhall be remedied by public laws
At heaviest answer.

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:
Seek not my name: a plague confume you caitiffs left!
Here lie I Timon, who all living men did hate,
Pafs by, and curfe thy fill, but ftay not here thy gait.

Thefe well express in thee thy latter fpirits:
Tho' thou abhor'dst in us our human griefs,

Scorn'd

Scorn'd our brine's flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard nature fall; yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vaft Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave.-On: faults forgiven.-Dead
Is noble Timon, of whofe memory

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

TITUS

ANDRONICU S.

VOL. VII.

K

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