Poet. I am thinking what I fhall fay I have provided for him : it must be a perfonating of himself;. a fatire against the softness of profperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim. Muft thou needs ftand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? do fo, I have gold for thee.

Poet. Nay, let's feek him.

Then do we fin against our own eftate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.
Pain. True.

Poet. While the day ferves, before black-cornered Night, (37)

Find what thou wantest, by free and offered light. Come.

Tim. I'll meet you at the turn---

What a god's gold, that he is worshipped

In bafer temples than where fwine do feed ! 'Tis thou that riggeft the bark, and plow't the wave, (38)

Settleft admired rev'rence in a flave;

To thee be worship, and thy faints for aye Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey! 'Tis fit I meet them.

Poet. Hail! worthy Timon.

Pain. Our late noble mafter.

(37) While the day ferves, &c.] This couplet in all the editions is placed to the painter; but as it is in rhyme, and a fequel of the fentiment begun by the Poet, I have made no fcruple to afcribe it to him.

(38) 'Tis thou that riggeft the bark, and ploweft the foam, Settieft admired rev'rence in a flave;] As both the couplet preceding and following this are in rhyme, I am very apt to fufpect the rhyme is difmounted here by an accidental corruption; and therefore have ventured to replace wave in the room of foam.

Tim. Have I once lived to fee two honeft ment Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted, Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off, Whofe thanklefs natures, oh abhorred fpirits! Not all the whips of Heaven are large enough--What! to you!

Whofe ftar-like noblenefs gave life and influence To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot Cover the monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any fize of words.

Tim. Let it go naked, men may fee't the better: (39) You that are honeft, by being what you are, Make them beft feen and known.

Pain. He and myself

Have travelled in the great shower of your gifts, And fweetly felt it.

Tim. Ay, you're honest men.

Pain. We're hither come to offer you our fervice. Tim. Most honeft men! why, how fhall I requite Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. [you ? Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you fer

vice.

Tim. Y'are honeft men; you've heard that I have gold;

(39) Let it go, naked men may feet the better; Thus has this paffage been ftupidly pointed through all the editions, as if naked men could fee better than men in their cloaths. I think, verily, if there were any room to credit the experi ment, fuch editors ought to go naked for the improvement of their eye fights. But, perhaps, they have as little faith as judgment in their own readings. The Poet, in the preceuing fpeech haranguing on the ingratitude of Timon's falfe friends, fays, he cannot cover the monftroufness of it with any fize of words; to which Timon, as I have recti fied the pointing, very aptly replies;

Let it go naked,- men may fee't the better.

So, our Poet in his Much Ado about Nothing:

Why feekest thou then to cover with excufe
That which appears in proper nakedness.

I'm fure

you have: speak truth, y'are honeft men. Pain. So it is faid, my noble Lord; but therefore Came not my friend nor I.

Tim. Good honeft man; thou draw'it a counterBeft in all Athens; thou'rt indeed the beft; [feit Thou counterfeiteft moft lively.

Pain. So, fo, my Lord.

Tim. Even fo, Sir, as I fay---And for thy fiction, Why, thy verfe fwells with stuff so fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art. But for all this, my honeft-natured friends, I must needs fay, you have a little fault; Marry, not monitrous in you; neither wish I You take much pains to mend.

Both. Befeech your honour

To make it known to us.
Tim. You'll take it ill

Both. Moit thankfully, my Lord..

Tim. Will you indeed?

Both. Doubt it not, worthy Lord.

Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave,

That mightily deceives you.

Both. Do we, my Lord!

Tim. Ay, and you hear him cogg, fee him diffemble,

Know his grofs patchery, love him, and feed him; Keep in your bofom, yet remain affured

That he's a made-up villain.

Pain. I know none fuch, my Lord.

Poet. Nor I.

Tim. Lock you, I love you well, I'll give you gold,

Rid me thefe villains from your companies;
Hang them, or ftab them, drown them in a draught,
Confound them by fome course, and come to me,
I'll give you gold enough.

Both. Name them, my Lord, let's know them. Tim. You that way, and you this;---but two in Each man apart, all fingle and alone, .[company: Yet an arch villain keeps him company.

If where thou art, two villains fhall not be,

[To the Painter. Come not near him----if thou wouldest not refide To the Poct.

But where one villain is, then him abandon. [flaves; Hence, pack, there's gold; ye came for gold, ye You have work for me; there's your payment, You are an alchymift, make gold of that: [hence ! Out, rafcal dogs.! [Beating and driving 'em out.

Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators..

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak with For he is fet fo only to himself,

[Timon:

That nothing but himfelf, which looks like man,i Is friendly with him.

1 Sen. Bring us to his cave,

It is our part and promise to the Athenians
To fpeak with Timon.

2 Sen. At all times alike

Men are not still the fame; 'twas time and griefs That framed him thus. Time, with his fairer hand ering the fortunes of his former days,

The former man may make him: bring us to him, And chance it as it may.

Elau. Here is his cave:

Peace and content be here, Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and fpeak to friends: the Athenians
By two of their most reverend fenate greet thee;
Speak to them, noble Timon.

Enter TIMON out of his Cave.

Tim. Thou fun, that comforteft, burn!

Speak, and be hanged;

For each true word a blifter, and each falfe
Be cauterizing to the root o' th' tongue,
Confuming it with speaking.

1 Sen. Worthy Timon,

Tim. Of none but fuch as you, and you of Timor. 2 Sen. The fenators of Athens greet thee, Timor. Tim. I thank them; and would fend them back Could I but catch it for them. [the plague,

1 Sen. O, forget

What we are forry for ourselves, in thee:

The senators, with one confent of love,

Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought On fpecial dignities, which vacant ly

For thy beft ufe and wearing.

2 Sen. They confefs

Toward thee forgetfulnefs, too general, grofs;
Which now the public body, (which doth feldom
Play the recanter) feeling in itfelf,

A lack of Timon's aid, hath fenfe withal .I
Of its own fall, refraining aid to Timon;

And fends forth us to make their forrowed tender,
Together with a recompence more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even fuch heaps and fums of love and wealth,
As fhall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.

Tim. You witch me in it,

Surprize me to the very brink of tears:
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep thefe comforts, worthy fenators.

1 Sen. Therefore so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take The captainfhip: thou shalt be met with thanks,