The Same. The Senate House. |
| |
The Senate sitting. |
| First Sen. My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's |
| Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die; |
| Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. |
| Sec. Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise him. |
| |
Enter ALCIBIADES, attended. |
| Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to the senate! |
| First Sen. Now, captain. |
| Alcib. I am a humble suitor to your virtues; |
| For pity is the virtue of the law, |
| And none but tyrants use it cruelly. |
| It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy |
| Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood, |
| Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth |
| To those that without heed do plunge into 't. |
| He is a man, setting his fate aside, |
| Of comely virtues; |
| Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,— |
| An honour in him which buys out his fault,— |
| But, with a noble fury and fair spirit, |
| Seeing his reputation touch'd to death, |
| He did oppose his foe; |
| And with such sober and unnoted passion |
| He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent, |
| As if he had but prov'd an argument. |
| First Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox, |
| Striving to make an ugly deed look fair: |
| Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd |
| To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling |
| Upon the head of valour; which indeed |
| Is valour misbegot, and came into the world |
| When sects and factions were newly born. |
| He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer |
| The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs |
| His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, |
| And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, |
| To bring it into danger. |
| If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, |
| What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill! |
| Alcib. My lord,— |
| First Sen. You cannot make gross sins look clear; |
| To revenge is no valour, but to bear. |
| Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me, |
| If I speak like a captain. |
| Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, |
| And not endure all threats? sleep upon 't, |
| And let the foes quietly cut their throats |
| Without repugnancy? If there be |
| Such valour in the bearing, what make we |
| Abroad? why then, women are more valiant |
| That stay at home, if bearing carry it, |
| And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon |
| Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, |
| If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords! |
| As you are great, be pitifully good: |
| Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? |
| To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust; |
| But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. |
| To be in anger is impiety; |
| But who is man that is not angry? |
| Weigh but the crime with this. |
| Sec. Sen. You breathe in vain. |
| Alcib. In vain! his service done |
| At Lacedæmon and Byzantium |
| Were a sufficient briber for his life. |
| First Sen. What's that? |
| Alcib. I say, my lords, he has done fair service, |
| And slain in fight many of your enemies. |
| How full of valour did he bear himself |
| In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds! |
| Sec. Sen. He has made too much plenty with 'em; |
| He's a sworn rioter; he has a sin that often |
| Drowns him and takes his valour prisoner; |
| If there were no foes, that were enough |
| To overcome him; in that beastly fury |
| He has been known to commit outrages |
| And cherish factions; 'tis inferr'd to us, |
| His days are foul and his drink dangerous. |
| First Sen. He dies. |
| Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died in war. |
| My lords, if not for any parts in him,— |
| Though his right arm might purchase his own time, |
| And be in debt to none,—yet, more to move you, |
| Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both; |
| And, for I know your reverend ages love |
| Security, I'll pawn my victories, all |
| My honour to you, upon his good returns. |
| If by this crime he owes the law his life, |
| Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore; |
| For law is strict, and war is nothing more. |
| First Sen. We are for law; he dies: urge it no more, |
| On height of our displeasure. Friend, or brother, |
| He forfeits his own blood that spills another. |
| Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, |
| I do beseech you, know me. |
| Sec. Sen. How! |
| Alcib. Call me to your remembrances. |
| Third Sen. What! |
| Alcib. I cannot think but your age has forgot me; |
| It could not else be I should prove so base, |
| To sue, and be denied such common grace. |
| My wounds ache at you. |
| First Sen. Do you dare our anger? |
| 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect; |
| We banish thee for ever. |
| Alcib. Banish me! |
| Banish your dotage; banish usury, |
| That makes the senate ugly. |
| First Sen. If, after two days' shine, Athens contain thee, |
| Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, |
| He shall be executed presently. [Exeunt Senators. |
| Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live |
| Only in bone, that none may look on you! |
| I am worse than mad: I have kept back their foes, |
| While they have told their money and let out |
| Their coin upon large interest; I myself |
| Rich only in large hurts: all those for this? |
| Is this the balsam that the usuring senate |
| Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment! |
| It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; |
| It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, |
| That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up |
| My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. |
| 'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds; |
| Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. [Exit. |
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