Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near? 3 Sen. I'll tell you more anon. fealt toward. 2 Sen. This is the old man still. Here's a noble 3 Sen. Will't hold? 'will't hold? Tim. Each man to his stool with that fpur as he would to the lip of his mistress: your diet fhall be in all places alike. Make not a city-feast of it, tỏ let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, fit. The gods require our thanks. "You great benefactors, fprinkle our fociety "with thankfulness. For your own gifts make "yourselves praised: but referve ftill to give, left your deities be defpifed. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another. For were your godheads to borrow of men, men "would forfake the gods. Make the meat belo"ved more than the man that gives it. Let no affembly of twenty be without a fcore of villains, "If there fit twelve women at the table, let a dozen "of them be as they are.----The rest of your fees, "O gods, the fenators of Athens, together with "the common lag of people, what is amifs in them, you gods, make fuitable for deftruction. For thefe my friends---as they are to me nothing, fo in nothing blefs them, and to nothing are they "welcome." Uncover dogs, and lap. Some speak. What does his Lordship mean♪ Tim. May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends: fmoke, and lukewarm Is your perfection. This is Timon's laft; [water Who ftuck and fpangled you with flatteries, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,” Cruft you quite o'er !-What, dost thou go? Re-enter the Senators. 1 Sen. How now, my Lords? [Exit. 2. Sen. Know you the quality of Lord. Timon's (20) fury! -and minute jacks. Of man and beat, the infinite malady Cruft you quite o'er !] I had reformed the bad pointing of this paffage in my Shakespeare Reftored, and have accordingly rectified it here. In what fenfe could the fenators be called minute-jacks of man and beaft? The Poet just beforecalls them vapours, and certainly means to inforce that image, by faying they were jacks not of a minute's truft or dependance, Then what could the infinite malady fignify, with out fomething fubjoined to give us a clearer idea of it? As I point the paffage, it plainly means, may the whole catalogue, the infinite number of diftempers, that have ever invaded either man or beast, all be joined to plague you. Coriolanus curfes his cowardly followers, in our Author's tragedy fo called, in a manner not much unlike; All the contagion of the South light on you, You thames of Rome, you! herds of boils and plagues- 3 Sen. Pfha! did you fee my cap? 4 Sen. I've loft my gown. i Sen. He's but a mad Lord, and nought but humour fways him. He gave me a jewel the other day, and now he has beat it out of my cap. Did you fee my jewel? 2 Sen. Did you see my cap? 3 Sen. Here 'tis. 4 Sen. Here lyes my gown. i Sen. Let's make no stay. 2 Sen. Lord Timon's mad. 3 Sen. I feel't upon my bones. 4 Sen. One day he gives as diamonds, next day ftones. [Exeunt. L ACT V.. SCENE, without the Walls of Athens. Enter TIMO N. ET me look back upon thee, O thou wall, That girdleft in those wolves! dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! matrons, turn incontinent; Obedience fail in children; flaves and fools Pluck the grave wrinkled fenate from the bench, And minifter in their fteads: to general filths (21) Convert o' th' instant, green virginity! Do't in your parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast; (21) To general filths Convert o' th' inftant, &c.] This paffage was very faulty in the pointing, till I first reformed it in my Shakespeare Reftored; and Mr Pope vouchsafed to copy my correction in his laft edition. Rather than render back, out with your knives, (22) On Athens, ripe for ftroke! thou cold Sciatica, Take thou that too, with multiplying banns: (22) -Bankrupts, hold faft, Rather than render back; out with your knives, and cut your trufers throats.] Thus has this paffage hitherto been moft abfurdly pointed, even by the poetical editors, Mr Rowe and Mr Pope. I had reformed the pointing; but am, however, to make my acknowledgments to fome anonymous gentleman, who by letter advised me to point it as I have done in the text. The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all) SCENE changes to Timon's Houfe. Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants. Are we undone, caft off, nothing remaining? 1 Ser. Such a houfe broke! So noble a master fallen! all gone! and not 2 Serv. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his So his familiars to his buried fortunes grave, Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, With his difease of all-fhunned poverty, Flav. All broken implements of a ruined houfe! |