Tim. Cut my heart in summes Tit. Mine, fifty Talents Tim. Tell out my blood Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that. What yours? and yours? 1.Var. My Lord 2.Var. My Lord Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you. Exit Timon. Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their caps at their money, these debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. Exeunt. Enter Timon. Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the slaues. Creditors? Diuels Stew. My deere Lord Tim. What if it should be so? Stew. My Lord Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward? Stew. Heere my Lord Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All, Ile once more feast the Rascals 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 Bloody: 'Tis necessary he should dye: Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy 2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em Alc. Honor, health, and compassion 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 Noble Fury, and faire spirit, Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death, He did oppose his Foe: And with such sober and vnnoted passion 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