Speeches (Lines) for Alcibiades
in "Timon of Athens"

Total: 39

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# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

I,1,295

Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.

2

I,2,415

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

3

I,2,418

So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat
like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

4

I,2,592

Ay, defiled land, my lord.

5

III,5,1312

Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!

6

III,5,1314

I am an 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 proved an argument.

7

III,5,1346

My lord,—

8

III,5,1349

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.

9

III,5,1369

In vain! his service done
At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
Were a sufficient briber for his life.

10

III,5,1373

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!

11

III,5,1386

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 honours 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.

12

III,5,1400

Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.

13

III,5,1403

Call me to your remembrances.

14

III,5,1405

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.

15

III,5,1412

Banish me!
Banish your dotage; banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly.

16

III,5,1420

Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live
Only in bone, that none may look on you!
I'm 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.

17

IV,3,1717

What art thou there? speak.

18

IV,3,1720

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?

19

IV,3,1725

I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

20

IV,3,1737

How came the noble Timon to this change?

21

IV,3,1741

Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee?

22

IV,3,1745

What is it, Timon?

23

IV,3,1750

I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

24

IV,3,1752

I see them now; then was a blessed time.

25

IV,3,1764

Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,—

26

IV,3,1773

I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

27

IV,3,1776

Why, fare thee well:
Here is some gold for thee.

28

IV,3,1779

When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,—

29

IV,3,1781

Ay, Timon, and have cause.

30

IV,3,1784

Why me, Timon?

31

IV,3,1809

Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
givest me,
Not all thy counsel.

32

IV,3,1851

Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

33

IV,3,1854

I never did thee harm.

34

IV,3,1856

Call'st thou that harm?

35

IV,3,1859

We but offend him. Strike!
[Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA,]
and TIMANDRA]

36

V,4,2556

Sound to this coward and lascivious town
Our terrible approach.
[A parley sounded]
[Enter Senators on the walls]
Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice; till now myself and such
As slept within the shadow of your power
Have wander'd with our traversed arms and breathed
Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
Cries of itself 'No more:' now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,
And pursy insolence shall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.

37

V,4,2621

Then there's my glove;
Descend, and open your uncharged ports:
Those enemies of Timon's and mine own
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof
Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
But shall be render'd to your public laws
At heaviest answer.

38

V,4,2632

Descend, and keep your words.

39

V,4,2640

[Reads the epitaph] 'Here lies a
wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked
caitiffs left!
Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay
not here thy gait.'
These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our
droplets which
From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead
Is noble Timon: of whose memory
Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword,
Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each
Prescribe to other as each other's leech.
Let our drums strike.

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