Imatges de pàgina
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Luc. Flaminius! Sir, a Word: Pray is my Lord ready to come forth?

Flam. No, indeed he is not.

Tit. We attend his Lordship; pray fignifie fo much. Flam. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent.

Enter Flavius in a Cloak muffled.

Luc. Ha! is not that his Steward muffled fo? He goes away in a Cloud: Call him, call him. Tit. Do you hear, Sir

Var. By your leave, Sir.

Flav. What do you ask of me, my Friend?
Tit. We wait for certain Mony here, Sir.

Flav. If Mony were as certain as your waiting, 'Twere fure enough.

Why then prefer'd you not your Sums and Bills,
When your falfe Mafters eat of my Lord's Meat?
Then they would fmile, and fawn upon his Debts,
And take down th' Intereft into their glutt'nous Maws.
You do your felves but wrong to ftir me up,
Let me pafs quietly:

Believ't, my Lord and I have made an end,
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
Luc. Ay, but this anfwer will not ferve.
Flav. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not so bafe as you,
For you ferve Knaves.

[Exit Flavius. Var. How! what does his cafhier'd worfhip mutter ? Tit. No matter what- he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can fpeak broader than he that has no House to put his Head in? Such may rail against great Buildings.

Enter Servilius.

Tit. Oh, here's Servilius; now we fhall have fome anfwer.

Serv. If I might befeech you, Gentlemen, to repair fome other hour, I fhould derive much from't. For take't of my Soul, my Lord leans wondroufly to discontent: His comfortable temper has forfook him, he's much out of Health, and keeps his Chamber.

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Luc. Many do keep their Chambers, are not fick:
And if it be fo far beyond his Health,
Methinks he should the fooner pay his Debts,
And make a clear way to the Gods.

Serv. Good Gods!

Tit. We cannot take this for an Answer,

Flam. [within.] Servilius, help-my Lord! my Lord. Enter Timon in a rage.

Tim. What, are my Doors oppos'd against my paffage ? Have I been ever free, and muft my Houfe

Be my retentive Enemy? My Goal?

The Place which I have feafted, does it now,
Like all Mankind, fhew me an Iron Heart?
Luc. Put in now, Titus.

Tit. My Lord, here's my Bill.
Luc. Here's mine.

Var. And mine, my Lord.

Cap. And ours, my Lord.

Phi. All our Bills.

Tim. Knock me down with 'em- -cleave me to the

Girdle.

Luc. Alas, my Lord.

Tim. Cut out my Heart in Sums.

Tit. Mine, fifty Talents.

Tim. Tell out my Blood.

Luc. Five thoufand Crowns, my Lord.

Tim. Five thousand drops pays that,

What yours?

Var. My Lord.

Cap. My Lord.

and yours?

Tim. Tear me, take me, and the Gods fall upon you.

[Exit Timon. Hor. Faith, I perceive our Mafters throw their Caps at their Mony, these Debts may well be call'd defperate ones,

for a mad Man owes 'em,

may

Enter Timon and Flavius.

[Exeunt.

Tim. They have e'en put my Breath from me, the Slaves. Creditors!Devils.

Flav. My dear Lord.

Tim. What if it should be fo--

Flav. My dear Lord.

Tim. I'll have it foM Steward!

Flav. Here, my Lord.

Tim. So fitly!Go, bid all my Friends again, Lucius, Lucullus and Sempronius. All

I'll once more Feaft the Rafcals.

Flav. O my Lord! you only fpeak from your diftracted Soul; there's not fo much left as to furnish out a moderate Table.

Tim. Be it not in thy Care:

Go, I charge thee, invite them all, let in the tide

Of Knaves once more: My Cook and I'll provide. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The City.

Enter three Senators at one Door, Alcibiades meeting them with Attendants.

1 Sen. My Lord, you have my Voice to't, the Fault's bloody; 'Tis neceffary he should dye:

Nothing emboldens Sin fo much as Mercy.

2 Sen. Moft true; the Law fhall bruife 'em.
Alc. Honour, Health and Compaffion to the Senate.
I Sen. Now, Captain.

Alc. I am an humble Suitor to your Virtues,
For Pity is the Virtue of the Law,
And none but Tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases Time and Fortune to lye heavy
Upon a Friend of mine, who in hot Blood
Hath ftept into the Law, which is past depth
To those that, without heed, do plunge into't.
He is a Man, fetting his Fate afide, of comely Virtues,
And Honour in him, which buys out his Fault;
Nor did he foil the Fact with Cowardife,
But with a noble Fury, and fair Spirit,
Seeing his Reputation touch'd to Death,
He did oppofe his Foe;

And with fuch fober and unnoted Paffion
He did behave his Anger e'er 'twas spent,
As if he had but prov'd an Argument.

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1 Sen. You undergo too ftrict a Paradox, Striving to make an ugly Deed look fair:

Your Words have took fuch pains, as if they labour'd
To bring Man-flaughter into form, and fet quarrelling
Upon the head of Valour; which indeed
Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the World
When Sects and Factions were newly born.
He's truly valiant, that can wifely fuffer
The worst that Man can breath,
And make his Wrongs his out-fides,
To wear them like his Rayment, carelefly,
And ne'er prefer his Injuries to his Heart,
To bring it into Danger.

If Wrongs be Evils, and enforce us kill,
What Folly 'tis to hazard Life for ill.
Alc. My Lord!-

1 Sen. You cannot make grofs Sins look clear, To revenge is no Valour, but to bear.

Alc. My Lords, then under favour, pardon me;
If I fpeak like a Captain.

Why do fond Men expofe themfelves to Battel,
And not endure all Threats? Sleep upon't,
And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats,
Without repugnancy? If there be

Such Valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? Why then Women are more valiant

That stay at home, if bearing carry it;

And the Afs, more Captain than the Lion? The Fellow Loaden with Irons, wifer than the Judge,

If Wisdom be in fuffering. Oh my Lords,

As you are Great, be pitifully Good:

Who cannot condemn Rafhnefs in cold Blood?
To kill, I grant, is Sin's extreameft Guft,
But in defence, by Mercy 'tis moft Juft.
To be in Anger, is Impiety;

But who is Man, that is not Angry?
Weigh but the Crime with this.

2 Sen. You breath in vain,

Alc. In vain?

His Service done at Lacedamon, and Bizantium,
Were a fufficient Briber for his Life.

I Sen. What's that?

Alc. Why, I fay my Lords, h'as done fair Service,
And flain in Fight many of your Enemies :
How full of Valour did he bear himself
In the last Conflict, and made plenteous Wounds?
2 Ser. He has made too much plenty with'em,
He's a fworn Rioter; he has a Sin

That often drowns him, and takes his Valour Prifcner.
If there were no Foes, that were enough
To overcome him. In that beaftly Fury
He has been known to commit Outrages,
And cherish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to us,
His Days are foul, and his Drink dangerous.
1 Sen. He dies.

Alc. Hard Fate! he might have dy'à in War.
My Lords, if not for any Parts in him,
Though his right Arm might purchase his own time,
And be in debt to none; yet more to move you,
Take my Deserts to his, and join 'em both.
And for I know, your Reverend Ages love Security,
I'll pawn my Victories, all my Honours to you,
Upon his good returns.

If by this Crime he owes the Law his Life,
Why let the War receive it in valiant Gore;
For Law is ftrict, and War is nothing more.

1 Sen. We are for Law, he dyes, urge it no more,
On height of our Displeasure: Friend, or Brother,
He forfeits his own Blood, that spills another.
Alc. Muft it be fo? It must not be:

My Lords, I do befeech you know me.

2 Sen. How?

Alc. Call me to your Remembrances.

3 Sen. What!

Alc. I cannot think but your Age hath forgot me,
It could not elfe be, I fhould prove fo bafe,
To fue, and be deny'd fuch common Grace.
My Wounds ake at you.

1 Sen. Do you dare our Anger?

'Tis in few Words, but fpacious in effect, We banish thee for ever.

Alc.

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