So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, 2 Sen. Or any Throw thy glove, token of thine honour else, That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress, Alcib. Then there's my glove; Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken. Alcib. Descend, and keep your words. The Senators descend, and open the gates. Enter a Soldier. Sol. 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.] Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft: Seek not my name: A plague consume you wicked caitiff's left. Here lie I Timon; who, alive, all living men 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 aye Hereafter more.-Bring me into your city, Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. Let our drums strike. [Exeunt. |