ALCIBIADES

Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sighed. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no meat Like they, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast. I, defiled Land, my Lord. Honour, health, and compassion to the Senate. I am and 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 hight blood Hath stepped into the Law: which is passed depth To those that (without heed) do plunge intoo't. He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of comely Virtues, Nor did he soil the fact with Cowardice, (And Honour in him, which buys out his fault) But with a Noble Fury, and fair spirit, Seeing his Reputation touched to death, He did oppose his Foe: And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behoove his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but proved and Argument. Why say my Lords ha 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? Must it be so? It must not be: My Lords, I do beseech you know me. Call me to your remembrances. I cannot think but your Age has forgotten me, It could not else be, I should prove so base, To sue and be deny'de such common Grace. My wounds ache at you. Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish usury, That makes the Senate ugly. Now the Gods keep you old enough, That you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you. I'm worse then mad: I have kept back their Foes While they have told their Money, and let out Their Coin upon large interest. I my self, Rich only in large hurts. All those, for this? Is this the Balsome, that the usuring Senate Powers into Captains wounds? Banishment. It comes not ill: I hate not to be banished, 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; It's Honour with most Lands to be at ods, Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as Gods. What art thou there? speak. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, That art thy self a Man? I know thee well: But in thy Fortune's am unlearned, and strange. How came the Noble Timon to this change? Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee? What is it Timon? I have herd in some sort of thy Misery's. I see them now, then was a blessed time. Pardon him sweet Timandra for his wits Are drowned and lost in his Calamities. I have but little Gold of late, brave Timon, The want whereof, does daily make revolt In my penurious Band. I have herd and grieved How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod upon them. I am thy Friend, and pity thee deer Timon. Why fare thee well: Here is some Gold for thee. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap. I Timon, and have cause. Why me, Timon ? Hast thou Gold yet, I'll take the Gold thou gi vest me, not all thy counsel. Strike up the Drum towards Athens, farewell Timon : if I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. I never did thee harm. Callest thou that harm? We but offend him, strike. Found to this Coward, and lascivious Town, Our terrible approach. Till now you have gone on, and filled the time With all Licentious measure, making your wills The scope of Justice. Till now, my self and such As slept within the shadow of your power Have wandered with our traversed Arms, and breathed Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush, When crouching Marrow in the bearer strong Cries (of it self) no more; Now breathless wrong, Shall fit and pant in your great Chairs of ease, And pursy Insolence shall break his wind With fear and horrid flight. Then there's my Glove, Defend and open your uncharged Ports, Those Enemies of Timon's, and mine own Whom you your selves shall set out for reproof, Fallen and no more; and to atone your fears With my more Noble meaning, not a man Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream Of Regular Justice in your Cities bounds, But shall be remedied to your public Laws At heaviest answer. Descend, and keep your words. My heart is ever at your service, my Lord. My Lord. My Lords, then under favour, pardon me, If I speak Like a Captain. Why do found men expose themselves to Battle, And not endure all threats? Sleep vpon'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 then the Lion? The fellow loaded with Irons, wiser then 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 sins extremest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, it's most joust. To be in Anger, is impiety: But who is Man, that is not Angry. Weigh but the Crime with this. In vain? His service done at Lacedemon, and Byzantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life. 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 they 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 receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and War is nothing more. What are we Apemantus ?