Into our City with thy Banners fpred,
By Decimation and a tithed Death;
If thy Revenges hunger for that Food
Which Nature loaths, take thou the deftin'd tenth,
And by the hazard of the spotted die,
Let die the spotted.

1 Sen. All have not offended:

For those that were, it is not square to take,
On those that are, Revenge: Crimes, like Lands,
Are not inherited. Then dear Countryman,
Bring in thy Ranks, but leave without thy Rage,
Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin
With thofe that have offended, like a Shepherd,
Approach the Fold, and cull th' Infected forth,
But kill not all together.

2 Sen. What thou wilt,

Thou rather fhalt enforce it with thy Smile,
Than hew to't with thy Sword.

1 Sen. Set but thy Foot

Against our rampir'd Gates, and they fhall ope:
So thou wilt fend thy gentle Heart before,
To say thou❜lt enter friendly.

2 Sen. Throw thy Glove,

Or any token of thine Honour elfe,

That thou wilt ufe the Wars as thy Redress,
And not as our Confufion: All thy Powers
Shall make their harbour in our Town, 'till we
Have feal'd thy full defire.

Alc. Then there's my Glove,

Defcend, and open your uncharged Ports,
Thofe Enemies of Timon's, and mine own,
Whom you your felves fhall fet out for Reproof,
Fall and no more; and to atone your Fears
With my more noble Meaning, not a Man
Shall pafs his quarter, or offend the Stream
Of regular Juftice in your City's bounds,
But fhall be remedied by your publick Laws
At heaviest answer.

Both. 'Tis moft nobly spoken.

Alc. Defcend, and keep your Words.

Enter

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. My noble General, Timon is dead,
Entomb'd upon the very hem o'th' Sea,
And on his Graveftone, this Infculpture, which
With Wax I brought away; whofe foft Impreffion
Interprets for my poor Ignorance.

[Alcibiades reads the Epitaph.]

Here lyes a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soul bereft,
Seek not my Name: A Plague confume you Caitiffs left.
Here lye I Timon, who all living Men did hate,
Pafs by, and curfe thy fill, but stay not here thy Gate.

These well express in thee thy latter Spirits:
Tho' thou abhorred'ft in us our human Griefs,
Scorn'dft our Brains flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard Nature fall; yet rich Conceit
Taught thee to make vaft Neptune weep for aye
On thy low Grave; on Faults forgiven. Dead
Is Noble Timon, of whofe Memory

Hereafter more. Bring me into your City,

And I will use the Olive with my

Sword;

Make War breed Peace; make Peace ftint War, make each Prescribe to other, as each other's Leach.

CÆSAR.

A

TRAGEDY.

Printed in the YEAR 1709.

Calphurnia, Wife to Cæfar.

Portia, Wife to Brutus.

Plebeians, Guards and Attendants.

SCENE for the three firft Alts and beginning of the Fourth in Rome, for the remainder of the Fourth near Sardis, for the Fifth in the Fields of Philippi.