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That are not in opinion, but in proof,
Really good, and full of glorious parts,
Leave the report of what you are to fame,
Which, from the ready tongues of all good men,
Aloud proclaims you.

Diph. Besides, you stand bound,
Having so large a field to exercise
Your active virtues offered you, to impart
Your strength to such as need it.

Timol. Tis confessed:

And, since you'll have it so, such as I am,
For you, and for the liberty of Greece,
I am most ready to lay down my life:
But yet consider, men of Syracusa,
Before that you deliver up the power
(Which yet is yours) to me, to whom 'tis given;
To an impartial man, with whom nor threats
Nor prayers shall e'er prevail; for I must steer
An even course.

Arch. Which is desired of all.

Timol. Timophanes, my brother, for whose death
I'm tainted in the world, and foully tainted;
In whose remembrance I have ever worn,
In peace and war, this livery of sorrow,
Can witness for me, how much I detest
Tyrannous usurpation; with grief

I must remember it: For, when no persuasion
Could win him to desist from his bad practice,
To change the aristocracy of Corinth
Into an absolute monarchy, I chose rather
To prove a pious and obedient son

To my country, my best mother, than to lend
Assistance to Timophanes, tho' my brother,
That, like a tyrant, strove to set his foot
Upon the city's freedom.

Timag. Twas a deed

Deserving rather trophies than reproof.

Leost. And will be still remembered to your honour,

If you forsake us not.

Diph. If you free Sicily

From barbarous Carthage' yoke, it will be said In him you slew a tyrant.

Arch. But, giving way

To her invasion, not vouchsafing us

(That fly to your protection) aid and comfort, Twill be believed, that for your private ends You killed a brother.

Timol. As I then proceed,

To all posterity may that act be crowned
With a deserved applause, or branded with
The mark of infamy-Stay yet; ere I take
This seat of justice, or engage myself
To fight for you abroad, or to reform
Your state at home, swear all upon my sword,
And call the gods of Sicily to witness
The oath you take; that whatso'er I shall
Propound for safety of your commonwealth,
Not circumscribed or bound in, shall by you
Be willingly obeyed.

Arch. Diph. Cleon. So may we prosper,
As we obey in all things!

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Made glorious by action; whose experience Crowned with grey heirs, gave warrant to his counsels,

Heard and received with reverence; is now filled
With green heads, that determine of the state
Over their cups, or when their sated lusts
Afford them leisure; or supplied by those
Who, rising from base arts and sordid thrift,
Are eminent for wealth, not for their wisdom:
Which is the reason that to hold a place
In council, which was once esteemed an honour,
And a reward for virtue, hath quite lost
Lustre and reputation, and is made
A mercenary purchase.

Timag. He speaks home.

Leost. And to the purpose.
Timol. From whence it proceeds

That the treasure of the city is ingrossed

By a few private men, the public coffers

Hollow with want; and they, that will not spare
One talent for the common good, to feed
The pride and bravery of their wives, consume
In plate, in jewels, and superfluous slaves,
What would maintain an army.

Cor. Have at us!

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And dull security, was invited to

Invade your territories.

Arch. You've made us see, sir,

In the remembrance of what once you were.

Leost. The blood turns.

Timag. Observe how old Cleon shakes,

To our shame, the country's sickness: Now from As if in picture he had shown him what

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Is worse than the disease; I'll never yield to it:
What could the enemy, though victorious,
Inflict more on us? All that my youth had toiled
for,

Purchased with industry, and preserved with care,
Forced from me in a moment!

Diph. This rough course Will never be allowed of.

Timol. O blind men!

If you refuse the first means that is offered
To give you health, no hope's left to recover
Your desperate sickness. Do you prize your
muck

Above your liberties; and rather choose
To be made bondmen, than to part with that
To which already you are slaves? Or can it
Be probable in your flattering apprehensions,
You can capitulate with the conqueror,
And keep that yours which they come to possess,
And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish from
you?

But take your own ways; brood upon your gold,
Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve
The prey entire, and merit the report
Of careful stewards: Yield a just account
To your proud masters, who with whips of iron
Will force you to give up what you conceal,
Or tear it from your throats: Adorn your walls
With Persian hangings wrought of gold and
pearl:

Cover the floors on which they are to tread,
With costly Median silks; perfume the rooms
With cassia and amber, where they are

To feast and revel; while, like servile grooms,
You wait upon their trenchers; feed their eyes
With massy plate, until your cupboards crack
With the weight that they sustain; set forth your
wives

And daughters in as varied shapes

As there are nations, to provoke their lusts,
And let them be embraced before your eyes,
The object may content you; and, to perfect
Their entertainment, offer up your sons,
And able men, for slaves; while you, that are
Unfit for labour, are spurned out to starve,
Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by,

Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear,

He was to suffer.

Cor. I am sick; the man Speaks poignards and diseases. Olymp. Oh! my doctor!

I never shall recover.

Cleora. If a virgin,

Whose speech was ever yet ushered with ear;
One knowing modesty and humble silence
To be the choicest ornaments of our sex,
In the presence of so many reverend men,
Struck dumb with terror and astonishment,
Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds,
Let her find pardon. First, to you, great sir!
A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous prayers
Winged with pure innocence bearing them to
heaven,

For all prosperity that the gods can give
To one whose piety must exact their care;
Thus low I offer.

Timol. 'Tis a happy omen.

Rise, blest one, and speak boldly: On my virtue
I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring
Sweet rivers ever flow.

Cleora. Then thus to you,

My noble father, and these lords, to whom
I next owe duty; no respect forgotten
To you, my brother, and these bold young men
(Such I would have them) that are, or should be,
The city's sword and target of defence;
To all of you I speak; and, if a blush
Steal on my checks, it is shown to reprove
Your paleness (willingly I would not say
Your cowardice or fear). Think you all treasure
Hid in the bowels of the earth, or shipwrecked
In Neptune's watry kingdom, can hold weight,
When liberty and honour fill one scale,
Triumphant justice sitting on the beam?
Or dare you but imagine that your gold is
Too dear a salary for such as hazard
Their blood and lives in your defence? For me
An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven! So far
I prize a soldier, that, to give him pay,
With such devotion as our Flamens offer
Their sacrifices at the holy altar,

I do lay down these jewels, will make sale
Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply
The meanest of their wants.

Timol. Brave masculine spirit!

Diph. We are shown, to our shame, what we in honour

Should have taught others.

Arch. Such a fair example Must needs be followed.

Timag. Ever my dear sister, But now our family's glory.

Leost. Were she deformed,

The virtues of her mind would force a stoic
To sue to be her servant.

Cleon. I must yield;

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And, though my heart-blood part with it, I will

Deliver in my wealth.

Asot. I would say something;

But, the truth is, I know not what.

Timol. We have money;

And men must now be thought on.

Arch. We can press

Of labourers in the country (men inured
To cold and heat) ten thousand,
Diph. Or, if need be,

Inrol of slaves, lusty and able varlets,
And fit for service.

Cleon. They shall go for me;

I will not pay and fight too.

Cleora. How! your slaves?

O stain of honour! Once more, sir, your pardon; And to their shames let me deliver what

I know in justice you may speak.

Timol. Most gladly:

I could not wish my thoughts a better organ
Than your tongue to express them.
Cleora. Are you men?

(For age may qualify, though not excuse,
The backwardness of these) able young men?
Yet, now your country's liberty's at stake;
Honour and glorious triumph made a garland
For such as dare deserve them; a rich feast
Prepared by Victory, of immortal viands,
Not for base men, but such as with their swords
Dare force admittance, and will be her guests;
And can you coldly suffer such rewards

To be proposed to labourers and slaves?

While you, that are born noble (to whom these,
Valued at their best rate, are next to horses,

Or other beasts of carriage) cry, Ay me!
Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth
Make them become your masters?
Tumol. By my hopes,

There's fire and spirit enough in this to make
Thersites valiant.

Cleora. No; far, far be it from you:
Let those of meaner quality contend,
Who can endure most labour; plow the earth,
And think they are rewarded when their sweat
Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords;
Let them prove good artificers, and serve you
For use and ornament; but not presume
To touch at what is noble: if you think them
Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on,
Or wear such costly garments, will you grant them
The privilege and prerogative of great minds,
Which you were born to? Honour won in war,
And to be styled preservers of their country,
Are titles fit for free and generous spirits,
And not for bondmen. Had I been born a man,
And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize
To bold heroic courage, by Diana,

I would not to my brother, nay, my father,
Be bribed to part with the piece of honour
I should gain in this action.

Timol. She's inspired,

Or in her speaks the genius of your country,
To fire your blood in her defence: I am rapped
With the imagination.-Noble maid,
Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat
Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home
Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear
Your colours, lady; and, though youthful heats,
That look no farther than your outward form,
Are long since buried in me, while I live,

I am a constant lover of your mind,
That does transcend all other precedents.
Cleora. 'Tis an honour,

And so I do receive it.

Cor. Plague upon it!

[Gives her scarf.

She has got the start of us: I could even burst With envy at her fortune,

Olym. A raw young thing!

We've too much tongue sometimes, our husbands

say;

And she outstrip us!

Leost. I am for the journey.

Timag. May all diseases sloth and letchery bring,

Fall upon him that stays at home.
Arch. Though old,

I will be there in person.
Diph. So will I

Methinks I am not what I was: Her words
Have made me younger by a score of years,
Than I was when I came hither.

Cleon. I am still

Old Cleon, fat and unwieldy; I shall never
Make a good soldier, and therefore desire
To be excused at home.

Aso. 'Tis my suit too:

I am a gristle, and these spider fingers
Will never hold a sword.-Let us alone

To rule the slaves at home, I can so yerk them;
But in my conscience I shall never prove
Good justice in the war.

Timol. Have your desires;

You would be burdens to us, no way aids.
Lead, fairest, to the temple; first we'll pay
A sacrifice to the gods for good success:
For all great actions the wished course do run,
That are, with their allowance, well begun.
[Ereunt all but the slaves.

Pis. Stav, Cimbrio and Gracculo.
Cimb. The business?

Pis. Meet me to-morrow night near to the grove,
Neighbouring the east part of the city.
Grac. Well.

Pis. And bring the rest of our condition with

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SCENE I.

ACT II.

Enter ARCHIDAMUS, TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHENES,
with gorgets, and PISANDER.

Arch. So, so, 'tis well: How do I look?
Pis. Most sprightfully.

Arch. I shrink not in the shoulders; though

I'm old

I'm tough; steel to the back: I have not wasted
My stock of strength in feather beds. Here's an

arm too;

There's stuff in't, and I hope will use a sword
As well as any beardless boy of you all.
Timag. I'm glad to see you, sir, so well pre-
pared

To endure the travail of the war.
Arch. Go to, sirrah!

I shall endure, when some of you keep your ca-
bins,

For all your flaunting feathers. Nay, Leosthenes,
You're welcome too, all friends and fellows now.
Leost. Your servant, sir.

Arch. Pish! leave these compliments,
They stink in a soldier's mouth; I could be merry,
(For, now my gown's off, farewel gravity),
And must be bold to put a question to you,
Without offence, I hope.

Leost. Sir, what you please.

Arch. And you will answer truly?
Timag. On our words, sir.

Arch. Go to, then! I presume you will confess
That you are two notorious whoremasters.
Nay, spare your blushing, I've been wild myself.
Leost. Say we grant this,

(For if we should deny it you'll not believe us)
What will you infer it?

upon

Arch. What you'll groan for,

Arch. 'Tis my wish too.

I shall melt too, and that were ominous.
We must part. Nay, no tears, my best Cleora;
Millions of blessings on thee! All that's mine
I give up to thy charge; and, sirrah, look
You with that care and reverence observe her,
As you would pay to me. A kiss, farewell, girl!
Diph. Peace wait upon you, fair one!

[Exeunt Arch. Diph. and Pis. Timag. Twere impertinence

To wish you to be careful of your honour,
That ever keep in pay a guard about you
Of faithful virtues. Farewell: friend, I leave you
To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers
Part with more circumstance and ceremony;
Which I give way to.
[Exit Timag.

Leost, 'Tis a noble favour,

For which I ever owe you. We're alone:
But how I should begin, or in what language
Speak the unwilling word of parting from you,
I'm yet to learn.

Cleora. And still continue ignorant;
For I must be most cruel to myself,
If I should teach you.

Or

Leost. Yet it must be spoken,

you will chide my slackness: You have fired

me

With the heat of noble action to deserve you;
And the least spark of honour that took life
From your sweet breath, still fanned by it and
cherished,

Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I
Am much unworthy.

Cleora. May it yet burn here,

And, as a sea-mark, serve to guide true lovers
(Tossed on the ocean of luxurious wishes)
Safe from the rocks of lust, into the harbour

I fear, when you come to the test. Old stories Of pure affection, rising up an example

tell us,

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Which after-times shall witness to our glory,
First took from us beginning!

Leost. 'Tis a happiness

My duty to my country, and mine honour,
Cannot consent to; besides, add to these,
It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion
And strength of reason, for the general good,
That I should go.

Cleora. Alas! I then was witty

To plead against myself; and mine eye, fixed
Upon the hill of honour, ne'er descended
To look into the vale of certain dangers,
Through which you were to cut your passage to it.
Leost. I'll stay at home, then.
Cleora. No, that must not be;

For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain
A petty wreath myself, I rob you of

A certain triumph, which must fall upon you,

Or Virtue's turned a hand-maid to blind Fortune:

How is my soul divided! to confirm you
In the opinion of the world most worthy

To be beloved (with me you're at the height,
And can advance no farther), I must send you
To court the goddess of stern war, who, if
She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return you,
But grow enamoured of you.

Least. Sweet, take comfort!

And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me,
Or I am wretched: All the dangers that
I can encounter in the war are trifles;
My enemies abroad to be contemned;

The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me,
I leave at home with you.

Cleora. With me?

Leest. Nay, in you,

In every part about you; they are armed To fight against me.

Cleora. Where?

Least. There's no perfection

That you are mistress of, but musters up
A legion against me, and all sworn
To my destruction.

Cleora. This is strange!

Leost. But true, sweet:

Excess of love can work such miracles.
Upon this ivory forehead are intrenched
Ten thousand rivals, and these suns command
Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit
Their comfortable beams; these ruby lips,
A rich exchequer to assure their pay;
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them
Through hell and horror to the Elysian springs;
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name
Such as the virtues of your mind invite,
Their numbers would be infinite.

Cleora. Can you think

I may be tempted?

Leost. You were never proved.

For me, I have conversed with you no farther Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned Loose notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich presents

For my artillery, to batter down

The fortress of your honour; nor endeavoured
To make your blood run high at solemn feasts,
With viands that provoke (the speeding philtres):
I worked no bawds to tempt you; never practised
The cunning and corrupting arts they study,
That wander in the wild maze of desire;
Honest simplicity and truth were all
The agents I employed; and when I came
To see you, it was with that reverence
As I beheld the altars of the gods;

And Love, that came along with me, was taught
To leave his arrows, and his torch behind,
Quenched in my fear to give offence.

Cleora. And 'twas

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(Such is the cruelty of my fate) and leave you,
Unguarded, to the violent assaults
Of loose temptations; when the memory
Of my so many years of love and service,
Is lost in other objects; you are courted
By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests
Won upon credulous virgins; when nor father
Is here to awe you, brother to advise you,
Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off,
By lust instructed how to undermine

And blow your chastity up; when your weak

senses,

At once assaulted, shall conspire against you, And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue: How can you stand? 'Faith, though you fall, and I The judge, before whom you then stood accused, I should acquit you.

Cleora. Will you then confirm

That love and jealousy, though of different na

tures,

younger

Must of necessity be twins; the
Created only to defeat the elder,
And spoil him of his birthright? 'tis not well.
But being to part, I will not chide, I will not
Nor with one syllable or tear, express
How deeply I am wounded with the arrows
Of
your distrust: But when that you shall hear
At your return how I have borne myself,
And what an austere penance I take on me,
To satisfy your doubts: When, like a vestal,
I shew you, to your shame, the fire still burning,
Committed to my charge by true affection,
The people joining with you in the wonder:
When, by the glorious splendor of my sufferings,
The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind,
The inonster, too, that feeds on fears, even starved
For want of seeming matter to accuse me,
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof
From my just anger.

Leost. What will you do?
Cleora. Obey me,

Or from this minute you're a stranger to me;
And do it without reply.-All-seeing sun,
Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close
Mine eyes against thy comfortable light,
Till the return of this distrustful man.

[He binds her eyes. Now bind them sure;-nay, do it: if uncompelled I loose this knot, until the hands that made it Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues Fall heavy on me! Pray you, guide me to your lips.

This kiss, when you come back, shall be a virgin,
To bid you welcome.-Nay, I have not done yet:
I will continue dumb; and, you once gone,
No accent shall come from me: Now to my
chamber;

My tomb, if you miscarry: There I'll spend
My hours in silent mourning, and thus much
Shall be reported of me to my glory,

And you confess it, whether I live or die,
My chastity triumphs o'er your jealousy. [Exeunt.

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