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!
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.
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
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.
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.
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!
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
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.
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
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 tough; steel to the back: I have not wasted My stock of strength in feather beds. Here's an
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?
Arch. What you'll groan for,
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.
Leost. Yet it must be spoken,
you will chide my slackness: You have fired
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
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.
(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
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
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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