my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him: he's much out of health, and keeps his chamber. Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers, are not sick : And if it be so far beyond his health,

Methinks, he should the sooner pay his debts,

And make a clear way to the gods.

Serv.

Good gods!

Tit. We cannot take this for answer, Sir.

Flam. [Within.] Servilius, help!- my lord! my lord!

Enter TIMON, in a rage; FLAMINIUS, following.

Tim. What! are my doors oppos'd against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house

Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?

The place which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
Luc. Serv. Put in now, Titus.

Tit. My lord, here is my bill.
Here's mine.

Luc. Serv.

Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord.

Both Var. Serv. And ours, my lord.

Phi. All our bills.

Tim. Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.

Luc. Serv. Alas! my lord,

Tim. Cut my heart in sums.

Tit. Mine, fifty talents.

Tim. Tell out my blood.

Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord.

Tim. Five thousand drops pays that. ·

What yours?

1 Var. Serv.

2 Var. Serv.

-

Tim. Tear me, take me; and the gods fall upon you! [Exit. Hor. Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money: these debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

[Exeunt.

Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS.

Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves. Creditors? devils!

Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius; Ullorxa, all:
I'll once more feast the rascals.

Flav.
O my lord!
You only speak from your distracted soul:
There is not so much left to furnish out

A moderate table.

Tim.

Be 't 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.

SCENE V.

The Same. The Senate-House.

[Exeunt.

The Senate sitting. Enter ALCIBIADES, attended.

1 Sen. My lord, you have my voice to 't: the fault's bloody; 't is necessary he should die.

Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

2 Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise him.

Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!

1 Sen. Now, captain?

Alcib. 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 lie heavy

Upon a friend of mine; who, in hot blood,
Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
To those that without heed do plunge into 't.
He is a man, setting his fate aside,

Of comely virtues :

Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice;

(An honour in him which buys out his fault)
But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
He did oppose his foe:

And with such sober and unnoted passion
He did behave his anger, ere 't was spent
As if he had but prov'd an argument.

1 Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:

Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd
To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour; which, indeed,

Is valour misbegot, and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born.

He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides; to wear them like his raiment, carelessly,
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

You cannot make gross sins look clear:

To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me,

If I speak like a captain.

Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,

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 ass more captain than the lion; the fellow,
Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge,

If wisdom be in suffering. O, my lords!
As you are great, be pitifully good:

Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;
But in defence, by mercy, 't is most just.
To be in anger, is impiety;

But who is man, that is not angry?

Weigh but the crime with this.

2 Sen. You breathe in vain.
Alcib.

At Lacedæmon, and Byzantium,
Were a sufficient briber for his life.

1 Sen. Alcib.

What's that?

In vain? his service done

Why, say, my lords, he has done fair service,

And slain in fight many of your enemies.

How full of valour did he bear himself

In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds?
2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with him,
He's a sworn rioter: he has a sin, that often
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner.
If there were no foes, that were enough
To overcome him: in that beastly 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.

Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died 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 them both:
And for, I know, your reverend ages love
Security, I'll pawn my victories, all
My honour to you, upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

1 Sen. We are for law: he dies; urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend, or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.

Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, I do beseech you, know me.

2 Sen. How!

Alcib.

3 Sen.

Call me to your remembrances.

What!

Alcib. I cannot think, but your age has forgot me;

It could not else be, I should prove so base,
To sue, and be denied such common grace.
My wounds ache at you.

1 Sen.

Do you dare our anger?

1 Sen. If, after two days' shine Athens contain thee, Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, He shall be executed presently.

[Exeunt Senators.

Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live

Only in bone, that none may look on you!

I am worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
While they have told their money, and let out
Their coin upon large interest; I myself,
Rich only in large hurts: :- all those, for this?
Is this the balsam, that the usuring senate
Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment!
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd:
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
"T is honour with most lands to be at odds;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods.

[Exit.