Imatges de pàgina
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Poet. I am thinking what I fall say I have provided for him : it muit be a personating of himself; a fatire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet. Nay, let's seek him.
Then do we fin against our own estate,
When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Pain. True.
Poet. While the day serves, before black-cor-

nered Night, (37) Find what thou wantelt, by free and offered light. Come.

Tim. I'll meet you at the turn---What a god's gold, that he is worshipped In baser temples than where swine do feed! 'Tis thou that riggest the bark, and plow'st the

wave, (38) Settlest admired rev'rence in a slave'; To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crowned with plagues, that thee alone obey ! 'Tis fit I meet them.

Poet. Hail ! worthy Timon.
Pain. Our late noble master.

(37) While the day ferves, &c.] This couplet in all the editions is placed to the painter ; but as it is in rhyme, and

lequel of the sentiment begun by the Poet, I have made no scruple to ascribe it to hin.

(38) 'Tis thou that riggest the bark, and plowest the foam, Settlefi admired rev'rence in a slave;} As both the couplet preceding and following this are in rhyme, I am very apt to suspect the rhyme is dismounted here by an accidental corruption; and therefore have ventured to replace wave in the room of fuam.

Tim. Have I once lived to see two honest men

Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty taited, Hearing you were retired, your friends falln off, Whose thanslefs natures, oh abhorred spirits ! Not all the whips of Heaven are large enough--What ! to you! Whose star-like nobleness 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 gonaked, men may see't the better:(39) You that are honeit, by being what you are, Make them best feen and known.

Pain. He and myself
Have travelled in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.

Tim. Ay, you're honest men.
Pain. We're hither come to offer you our service.

Tim. Moit honeft men ! why, how shall 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 honest men; you've heard that I have

gold;

(39) Let it g, naked men may fee'r the heiter ;] Thus has this pasage been stupidly pointed through all the editions, as if naked men conld fee better than men in their cloaths. I think, verily, if there were any room to credit the experia ment, fuch editors ought to go naked for the improvement of their eye-lights. But, perhaps, they have as little faith as judgment in their own readings. The Poet, in the preceuing speech haranguing on the ingratitude of Timon's falle friends, fays, he cannot cover the monstrousness of it with any fize of words ; to which Timon, as I have rectia 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 feckelt thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakednessa

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I'm sure you have: speak truth, y'are honest men.

Pain. So it is said, my noble Lord; but therefore
Came not my friend nor I.

Tim. Good honest man; thou draw'ít a counter-
Best in all Athens; thou’rt indeed the best; [feit
Thou counterfeiteit most lively.
Pain. So, fo, my Lord..

Tim. Even so, Sir, as I say.--And for thy fi&tion;
Why, thy verse swells 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 monstrous in you; neither with I.
You take much pains to mend.

Both. Befeech your honour
To make it known to us.

Tim. You'll take it illa
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 knare,
That mightily deceives you...

Bosh. Do we, my Lord!
Tim. Ay, and you hear him cogg, see him

dillemble,
Know his grofs patchery, love him, and feed him;
Keep in your bosom, yet remain assured
That he's a made-up villain.

Pain. I know none fuch, my Lord.
Poet. Nor 1.
Tim. Look you, I love you well, I'll give you

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

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Both. Name them, my Lord, let's know them. :

Tim. You that way, and you this ;---but two in Each man apart, all single and alone, -[company: Yet an arch villain keeps him company. If where thou art, two villains shall not be,

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

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

Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators.. Flav. It is in vain that you would speak with For he is set fo only to himself, [Timon: That nothing but himself, which looks like man, Is friendly with him.

1 Sen. Bring us to his cave, It is our part and promise to the Athenians: To speak with Timon.

2 Sen. At all times alike Men are not still the same; 'twas time and griefs. That framed him thus. Time, with his fairer hand Livering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him: bring us to him, And chance it as it

may.
Elav. Here is his cave:
Peace and content be here, Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out; and speak 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 sun, that comfortelt, burn!

peak, and be hanged ;
For each true word a blister, and each false,
Be cauterizing to the root o' th' tongue,
Consuming it with speaking.

I Sen. Worthy Timon,
Tim. --Of none but such as you, and you of Timor,
2 Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timor'

Tim. I thank them; and would send them back Could I but catch it for them, [the plague,

1 Sen. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves, in thee: The senators, with one consent of love, Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought On special dignities, which vacant ly For thy beit ufe and wearing.

2 Sen. They confess Toward thee forgetfulness, too general, gross; Which now the public body, (which doch seldom Play the recanter) feeling in itself A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon; And sends forth us to make their sorrowed tender, Together with a recompence more fruitful Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth, As shall 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 these comforts, worthy fenators.

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

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