First Sen.

Noble and young,

When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou had'st 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 promised 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 received your griefs; nor are they such

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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 tithed death

If thy revenges hunger for that food

Which nature loathes-take thou the destined 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 countrymen,

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 rampired gates, and they shall ope;
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,

To say thou'lt enter friendly.

Sec. Sen.

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

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40

50

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
Fail and no more: and, to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass this 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 nobly spoken. Alcib. Descend, and keep your words.

[The Senators descend, and open the gates. Enter 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 the epitaph] "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. Dead

Is noble Timon: of whose memory

Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword,

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Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each
Prescribe to other as each other's leech.
Let our drums strike.

[Exeunt

FLAVIUS and MARULLUS, tribunes.

CALPURNIA, wife to Cæsar.
PORTIA, wife to Brutus.

ARTEMIDORUS of Cnidos, a teacher Senators, Citizens, Guards, Atten

of Rhetoric.

dants, &c.

SCENE: Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbour hood of Philippi.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Rome. A street.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners.

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 Com. 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. Com. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. 11

Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me directly. Sec. Com. 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. Com. 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. Com. Why, sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

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Sec. Com. 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 recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's 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. Com. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get my self into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?

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You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements.
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone!

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Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good conntrymen, and, for this fault,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort:

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

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[Exeunt all the Commoners.
See, whether their basest metal be not moved;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: disrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images

Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

SCENE II. A public place.

ΤΟ

[Exeunt. E9

Flourish. Enter CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPUR NIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.

Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

Cas. Calpurnia!

Casca.

Cæs.

Cal. Here, my lord.

Calpurnia!

Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.

Ant. Cæsar, my lord?

Antonius!

Cas. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember:

Ant.
When Cæsar says "do this," it is perform'd.
Cas. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar!

Ces, Ha! who calls?

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[Flourish.