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Shakespeare's First Folio Part 525

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Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted soule; there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate Table

Tim. Be it not in thy care: Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide Of Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide.

Exeunt.

Enter three Senators at one doore, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants

1.Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't, The faults b.l.o.o.d.y: 'Tis necessary he should dye: Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy



2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em

Alc. Honor, health, and compa.s.sion to the Senate

1 Now Captaine

Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues; For pitty is the vertue of the Law, And none but Tyrants vse it cruelly.

It pleases time and Fortune to lye heauie Vpon a Friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stept into the Law: which is past depth To those that (without heede) do plundge intoo't.

He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of comely Vertues, Nor did he soyle the fact with Cowardice.

(And Honour in him, which buyes out his fault) But with a n.o.ble Fury, and faire spirit, Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death, He did oppose his Foe: And with such sober and vnnoted pa.s.sion He did behooue his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prou'd an Argument

1.Sen. You vndergo too strict a Paradox, Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire: Your words haue tooke such paines, as if they labour'd To bring Man-slaughter into forme, and set Quarrelling Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions were newly borne.

Hee's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breath, And make his Wrongs, his Out-sides, To weare them like his Rayment, carelessely, And ne're preferre his iniuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill

Alci. My Lord

1.Sen. You cannot make grosse sinnes looke cleare, To reuenge is no Valour, but to beare

Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me, If I speake like a Captaine.

Why do fond men expose themselues to Battell, And not endure all threats? Sleepe vpon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant That stay at home, if Bearing carry it: And the a.s.se, more Captaine then the Lyon?

The fellow loaden with Irons, wiser then the Iudge?

If Wisedome be in suffering. Oh my Lords, As you are great, be pittifully Good, Who cannot condemne rashnesse in cold blood?

To kill, I grant, is sinnes extreamest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most iust.

To be in Anger, is impietie: But who is Man, that is not Angrie.

Weigh but the Crime with this

2.Sen. You breath in vaine

Alci. In vaine?

His seruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life

1 What's that?

Alc. Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice, And slaine in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he beare himselfe In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds?

2 He has made too much plenty with him: He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner.

If there were no Foes, that were enough To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie, He has bin knowne to commit outrages, And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs, His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous

1 He dyes

Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre.

My Lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arme might purchase his owne time, And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you, Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both.

And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security, Ile p.a.w.ne my Victories, all my Honour to you Vpon his good returnes.

If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more

1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother, He forfeits his owne blood, that spilles another

Alc. Must it be so? It must not bee: My Lords, I do beseech you know mee

2 How?

Alc. Call me to your remembrances

3 What

Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me, It could not else be, I should proue so bace, To sue and be deny'de such common Grace.

My wounds ake at you

1 Do you dare our anger?

'Tis in few words, but s.p.a.cious in effect: We banish thee for euer

Alc. Banish me?

Banish your dotage, banish vsurie, That makes the Senate vgly

1 If after two dayes shine, Athens containe thee, Attend our waightier Iudgement.

And not to swell our Spirit, He shall be executed presently.

Exeunt.

Alc. Now the G.o.ds keepe you old enough, That you may liue Onely in bone, that none may looke on you.

I'm worse then mad: I haue kept backe their Foes While they haue told their Money, and let out Their Coine vpon large interest. I my selfe, Rich onely in large hurts. All those, for this?

Is this the Balsome, that the vsuring Senat Powres into Captaines wounds? Banishment.

It comes not ill: I hate not to be banisht, It is a cause worthy my Spleene and Furie, That I may strike at Athens. Ile cheere vp My discontented Troopes, and lay for hearts; 'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at ods, Souldiers should brooke as little wrongs as G.o.ds.

Enter.

Enter diuers Friends at seuerall doores.

1 The good time of day to you, sir

2 I also wish it to you: I thinke this Honorable Lord did but try vs this other day

1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee encountred.

I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seeme in the triall of his seuerall Friends

2 It should not be, by the perswasion of his new Feasting

1 I should thinke so. He hath sent mee an earnest inuiting, which many my neere occasions did vrge mee to put off: but he hath coniur'd mee beyond them, and I must needs appeare

2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat businesse, but he would not heare my excuse. I am sorrie, when he sent to borrow of mee, that my Prouision was out

1 I am sicke of that greefe too, as I vnderstand how all things go

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Shakespeare's First Folio Part 525 summary

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