SCENE II.

_Syracuse. The Senate-house._

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS, CLEON, DIPHILUS, OLYMPIA, CORISCA, CLEORA, _and_ ZANTHIA.

_Archid._ So careless we have been, my noble lords, In the disposing of our own affairs, And ignorant in the art of government, That now we need a stranger to instruct us. Yet we are happy that our neighbour Corinth, Pitying the unjust gripe Carthage would lay On Syracusa, hath vouchsafed to lend us Her man of men, Timoleon, to defend Our country and our liberties.

_Diph._ 'Tis a favour We are unworthy of, and we may blush Necessity compels us to receive it.

_Archid._ O shame! that we, that are a populous nation, Engaged to liberal nature for all blessings An island can bring forth; we, that have limbs, And able bodies; shipping, arms, and treasure, The sinews of the war, now we are call'd To stand upon our guard, cannot produce One fit to be our general.

_Cleon._ I am old and fat; I could say something, else.

_Archid._ We must obey The time and our occasions; ruinous buildings, Whose bases and foundations are infirm, Must use supporters: we are circled round With danger; o'er our heads, with sail-stretch'd wings, Destruction hovers, and a cloud of mischief Ready to break upon us; no hope left us That may divert it, but our sleeping virtue, Roused up by brave Timoleon.

_Cleon._ When arrives he?

_Diph._ He is expected every hour.

_Archid._ The braveries[98] Of Syracusa, among whom my son, Timagoras, Leosthenes, and Asotus, Your hopeful heir, lord Cleon, two days since Rode forth to meet him, and attend him to The city; every minute we expect To be bless'd with his presence. [_Shouts within; then a flourish of trumpets._

_Cleon._ What shout's this?

_Diph._ 'Tis seconded with loud music.

_Archid._ Which confirms His wish'd-for entrance. Let us entertain him With all respect, solemnity, and pomp, A man may merit, that comes to redeem us From slavery and oppression.

_Cleon._ I'll lock up My doors, and guard my gold: these lads of Corinth Have nimble fingers, and I fear them more, Being within our walls, than those of Carthage; They are far off.

_Archid._ And, ladies, be it your care To welcome him and his followers with all duty: For rest resolved, their hands and swords must keep you In that full height of happiness you live; A dreadful change else follows. [_Exeunt_ ARCHIDAMUS, CLEON, _and_ DIPHILUS.

_Olymp._ We are instructed.

_Coris._ Musing, Cleora?

_Olymp._ She's studying how to entertain these strangers, And to engross them to herself.

_Cleor._ No, surely.

_Olymp._ No more; they come.

_Flourish of trumpets. Enter_ TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHENES, ASOTUS, TIMOLEON _in black, led in by_ ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, _and_ CLEON; _followed by_ MARULLO, GRACCULO, CIMBRIO, _and other Slaves_.

_Archid._ It is your seat: which, with a general suffrage, [_Offering_ TIMOLEON _the state_[99]. As to the supreme magistrate, Sicily tenders, And prays Timoleon to accept.

_Timol._ Such honours To one ambitious of rule[100] or titles, Whose heaven on earth is placed in his command, And absolute power o'er others, would with joy, And veins swollen high with pride, be entertain'd. They take not me; for I have ever loved An equal freedom, and proclaim'd all such As would usurp on others' liberties Rebels to nature, to whose bounteous blessings All men lay claim as true legitimate sons: But such as have made forfeit of themselves By vicious courses, and their birthright lost, 'Tis not injustice they are mark'd for slaves, To serve the virtuous. For myself, I know Honours and great employments are great burdens, And must require an Atlas to support them. He that would govern others, first should be The master of himself, richly endued With depth of understanding, height of courage, And those remarkable graces which I dare not Ascribe unto myself.

_Archid._ Sir, empty men Are trumpets of their own deserts; but you, 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 offer'd you, to impart Your strength to such as need it.

_Timol._ 'Tis confess'd; 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 prevail; for I must steer An even course.

_Archid._ Which is desired of all.

_Timol._ Timophanes, my brother[101], for whose death I am 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[102], than to lend Assistance to Timophanes, though 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 remember'd to your honour, If you forsake not us.

_Diph._ If you free Sicily From barbarous Carthage' yoke[103], it will be said In him you slew a tyrant.

_Archid._ 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 kill'd a brother.

_Timol._ As I then proceed, To all posterity may that act be crown'd 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 whatsoe'er I shall Propound for safety of your commonwealth, Not circumscribed or bound in, shall by you Be willingly obey'd.

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

_Timag. Leost. Asot._ And observe All your commands as oracles!

_Timol._ Do not repent it. [_Takes the state._

_Olymp._ He ask'd not our consent.

_Coris._ He's a clown, I warrant him.

_Olymp._ He thinks women No part of the republic.

_Coris._ He shall find We are a commonwealth.

_Cleo._ The less your honour.

_Timol._ First, then, a word or two, but without bitterness, (And yet mistake me not, I am no flatterer,) Concerning your ill government of the state; In which the greatest, noblest, and most rich, Stand, in the first file, guilty.

_Cleon._ Ha! how's this?

_Timol._ You have not, as good patriots should do, studied The public good, but your particular ends; Factious among yourselves, preferring such To offices and honours, as ne'er read The elements of saving policy, But deeply skill'd in all the principles That usher to destruction.

_Leost._ Sharp!

_Timag._ The better.

_Timol._ Your senate-house, which used not to admit A man, however popular, to stand At the helm of government, whose youth was not Made glorious by action; whose experience, Crown'd with gray hairs, gave warrant to his counsels, Heard and received with reverence; is now fill'd 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 their wealth, not for their wisdom: Which is the reason that to hold a place In council, which was once esteem'd 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 engross'd 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.

_Coris._ Have at us!

_Olymp._ We thought we were forgot.

_Cleo._ But it appears You will be treated of.

_Timol._ Yet, in this plenty, And fat of peace, your young men ne'er were train'd In martial discipline; and your ships unrigg'd Rot in the harbour: no defence prepared, But thought unuseful; as if that the gods, Indulgent to your sloth, had granted you A perpetuity of pride and pleasure, No change fear'd or expected. Now you find That Carthage, looking on your stupid sleeps And dull security, was invited to Invade your territories.

_Archid._ You have made us see, sir, To our shame, the country's sickness: now from you, As from a careful and a wise physician, We do expect the cure.

_Timol._ Old fester'd sores Must be lanced to the quick, and cauterized; Which borne with patience, after I'll apply Soft unguents. For the maintenance of the war, It is decreed all moneys in the hand Of private men shall instantly be brought To the public treasury.

_Timag._ This bites sore.

_Cleon._ The cure Is worse than the disease; I'll never yield to 't: What could the enemy, though victorious, Inflict more on us? All that my youth hath toil'd for, Purchased with industry, and preserved with care, Forced from me in a moment!

_Diph._ This rough course Will never be allow'd of.

_Timol._ O blind men! If you refuse the first means that is offer'd 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 conquerors, 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; and, to perfect Their entertainment, offer up your sons And able men for slaves; while you, that are Unfit for labour, are spurn'd out to starve, Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by, Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear In the remembrance of what once you were.

_Leost._ The blood turns.

_Timag._ Observe how old Cleon shakes, As if in picture he had shown him what He was to suffer.

_Coris._ I am sick: the man Speaks poniards and diseases.

_Olymp._ O my doctor! I never shall recover.

_Cleo._ [_coming forward._] If a virgin, Whose speech was ever yet usher'd with fear, 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 Wing'd 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.

_Cleo._ 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 he, The city's sword and target of defence. To all of you I speak; and, if a blush Steal on my cheeks, 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 shipwreck'd In Neptune's wat'ry 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. [_Lays down her jewels, &c.; the rest follow her example._

_Timol._ Brave masculine spirit!

_Diph._ We are shown, to our shame, what we in honour Should have taught others.

_Archid._ Such a fair example Must needs be follow'd.

_Timag._ Ever my dear sister, But now our family's glory!

_Leost._ Were she deform'd, The virtues of her mind would force a stoic To sue to be her servant.

_Cleon._ I must yield; 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.

_Archid._ We can press Of labourers in the country, men inured To cold and heat, ten thousand.

_Diph._ Or, if need be, Enrol our slaves, lusty and able varlets, And fit for service.

_Cleon._ They shall go for me; I will not pay and fight too.

_Cleo._ 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.

_Cleo._ 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 the stake, Honour and glorious triumph made the 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 aim[104]! Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth Make them become your masters!

_Timol._ By my hopes, There's fire and spirit enough in this to make Thersites valiant.

_Cleo._ No; far, far be it from you: Let these of meaner quality contend Who can endure most labour; plough the earth, And think they are rewarded when their toil 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 least 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 rapt 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 further 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 precedents.

_Cleo._ 'Tis an honour, [_Gives her scarf._ And so I do receive it.

_Leost._ I am for the journey.

_Timag._ May all diseases sloth and luxury bring Fall upon him that stays at home!

_Archid._ 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 shall never Make a good soldier, and therefore desire To be excused at home.

_Asot._ 'Tis my suit too.

_Timol._ Have your desires; you would be burthens to us.-- Lead, fairest, to the temple; first we'll pay A sacrifice to the gods for good success: For all great actions the wish'd course do run, That are, with their allowance, well begun. [_Exeunt all but_, MAR. GRAC. _and_ CIMB.

_Mar._ Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo.

_Cimb._ The business?

_Mar._ Meet me to-morrow night near to the grove, Neighbouring the east part of the city.

_Grac._ Well.

_Mar._ And bring the rest of our condition with you: I've something to impart may break our fetters, If you dare second me.

_Cimb._ We'll not fail.

_Grac._ A cart-rope Shall not bind me at home.

_Mar._ Think on 't, and prosper. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[98] _The braveries_,] i. e. _the gay and fashionable gallants of the town_.

[99] _The state._] This was a raised platform, on which was placed a chair with a canopy over it. The word occurs perpetually in our old writers. It is used by Dryden, but seems to have been growing obsolete while he was writing: in the first edition of Mac Fleckno, the monarch is placed on a _state_; in the subsequent ones, he is seated like his fellow kings, on a throne: it occurs also, and I believe for the last time, in Swift: "As she affected not the grandeur of a _state_ with a canopy, she thought there was no offence in an elbow chair."--_Hist. of John Bull_, c. i.--GIFFORD.

[100] --------_Such honours To one ambitious of rule_, &c.] Massinger has here finely drawn the character of Timoleon, and been very true to history. He was descended from one of the noblest families in Corinth, loved his country passionately, and discovered upon all occasions a singular humanity of temper, except against tyrants and bad men. He was an excellent captain; and as in his youth he had all the maturity of age, in age he had all the fire and courage of the most ardent youth.--COXETER.

[101] Timol. _Timophanes, my brother_, &c.] Timoleon had an elder brother, called Timophanes, whom he tenderly loved, as he had demonstrated in a battle, in which he covered him with his body, and saved his life at the great danger of his own. But his country was still dearer to him. That brother having made himself tyrant of it, so black a crime gave him the sharpest affliction. He made use of all possible means to bring him back to his duty: kindness, friendship, affection, remonstrances, and even menaces. But finding all his endeavours ineffectual, and that nothing could prevail upon a heart abandoned to ambition he caused his brother to be assassinated by two of his friends and intimates, and thought that upon such an occasion the laws of nature ought to give place to those of his country.--COXETER.

[102] _To my country, my best mother._] In this expression Timoleon alludes to the conduct of his natural mother, who would never see him after the assassination of his brother, and always, as Cornelius Nepos informs us, called him _fratricidam, impiumque_.--GIFFORD.

[103] Diph. _If you free Sicily From barbarous Carthage' yoke_, &c.] This speech and the next are literally from Plutarch. Massinger has in this instance adhered more closely to his story than usual.--GIFFORD.

[104] _Cry aim!_] i. e. _encourage them_, as the bystanders do those who are about to shoot at a trial of skill in archery.