THIRD SENATOR.
No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.
The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare.
Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare.

[Exeunt.]



Scene III. The Woods. TIMON's cave, and a rude tomb seen.

[Enter a SOLDIER in the woods, seeking TIMON.]

SOLDIER.
By all description this should be the place.
Who's here? Speak, ho! No answer! What is this?
Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span.
Some beast rear'd this; here does not live a man.
Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb
I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax.
Our captain hath in every figure skill,
An ag'd interpreter, though young in days;
Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.

[Exit.]