The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Tim.

Commend me to them,
And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches,
losses,

Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kind-
ness do them:

'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades'
wrath.

First Sen. I like this well; he will return

again.

+Yet our old love made a particular force,
And made us speak like friends: this man
was riding

From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,
With letters of entreaty, which imported
His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
In part for his sake moved.
First Sen.

Here come our brothers.

Enter the Senators from TIMON.

Third Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.

Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful my close,

That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it tell my friends, 210
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
From high to low throughout, that whoso
please

To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
Flav. Trouble him no further; thus you
still shall find him.

Tim. Come not to me again: but say to
Athens,

Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
Who once a day with his embossed froth 220
The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Lips, let sour words go by and language end:
What is amiss plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works and death their
gain!

Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his
reign.
[Retires to his cave.

I First Sen. His discontents are unremove

ably

scouring

Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare:
Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. The woods. Timon's cave, and

a rude tomb seen.

Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON. Sold. By all description this should be the place.

Who's here? speak, ho! No answer! What
is this?

Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a

man.

Dead, sure; 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 aged interpreter, though young in days:
Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. 10

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Before the walls of Athens. Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers.

Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious town

And strain what other means is left unto us Our terrible approach. [A parley sounded. In our dear peril.

First Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Before the walls of Athens.
Enter two Senators and a Messenger.
First Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd:
are his files

As full as thy report?
Mess.

I have spoke the least:
Besides, his expedition promises
Present approach.

Sec. Sen. We stand much hazard, if they
bring not Timon.

Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;

Whom, though in general part we were opposed,

Enter Senators on the walls.

Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice; till now myself and such
As slept within the shadow of your power
Have wander'd with our traversed arms and
breathed

Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
Cries of itself 'No more: now breathless

Transformed Timon to our city's love

By humble message and by promised means: We were not all unkind, nor all deserve 21 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

That these great towers, trophies and schools should fall

For private faults in them.

Nor are they living

See. Sen.
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: 30
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 countryman,
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:
Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin 40
Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
With those that have offended: like a shep-
herd,

Approach the fold and cull the infected forth, But kill not all together.

That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress
And not as our confusion, all thy powers
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 reproc
Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream 6
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 gate..

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

wretched corse, of wretched soul beret: Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!

Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living met 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

SCENE 1. 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

DARDANIUS,

PINDARUS, servant to Cassius.

CALPURNIA, wife to Cæsar.

PORTIA, wife to Brutus.

Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.

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

Mar. What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!

Sec. Com. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 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

Of your profession? Speak, what trade art leather have gone upon my handiwork.

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.

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.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

Sec. Com. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself 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?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than

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, 50
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!

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 countrymen, 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.

[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.

I'll about,

Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies.
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. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A public place.

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

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; }
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours;

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved

Among which number, Cassius, be you one-
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection, by some other things.
Cas. 'Tis just:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have
heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Cæsar, speaking of Brutus
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead
me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared
to hear:

And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus;
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
And after scandal them, or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
[Flourish, and shout.
Bru. What means this shouting? I do
fear, the people

Choose Cæsar for their king.
Cas.
Ay, do you fear it? 80
Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him
well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you,
Brutus,
90

As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,

100

And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cæsar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of
Tiber

Did I the tired Cæsar. And this man
Is now become a god, and Cassius is
A wretched creature and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark 120
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did
shake:

His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the
Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world
And bear the palm alone. [Shout. Flourish.
Bru. Another general shout!

130

I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on
Cæsar.

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 140
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in that
'Cæsar'?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! 150

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood,

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