Imatges de pÓgina

Choler does kill me, that thou art alive :
I swoon to see thee.

Apem. Would thou wouldft burft!

Tim. Away, thou tedious rogue, I am sorry I Mall Jose a stone by thee.

Apem. Beal!
Tim, Slave!
Apem. Toad!
Tim. Rogue! rogue! rogue!

[Apem. retreats backward, as going.
I am fick of this false world, and will love nought
But ev'n the mere necessities upon it.
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
Lie where the light foam of the sea may

beat Thy grave-ftone daily; make thine epitaph; That death in me at others lives may laugh. O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

[Looking on the-gold.
'Twixt natural son and fire! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer,
Whose blah doch thaw the consecrated fnow,
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
That foldreft close impossibilities,
And mak’it them kiss! that speak'it with every tongue,
To every purpole! oh, thou touch of hearts !
Think, thy flave mar rebels; and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire.

Apem. Would 'twere fo,
But not 'till I am dead! I'll say, thou haft gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd to fhortly.

Tim. Throng'd to?
Apem. Ay.
Tim. Thy back, I pr’ythee.
Apem. Live, and love thy misery!
Tim. Long live so, and so die. I am quit.

Apem. No things like men-eat, Timon, and abhor them.

[Exit Apem.



Enter Thieves. 1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, fome slender ort of his remainder: the mere want of gold, and the falling off of friends, drove him into this melancholy.

2 Thief. It is nois’d, he hath a mass of treasure.

3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him; if he care not for’t, he will supply us easily: if he covetoully reserve it, how shall's get it?

2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him: 'tis hid. 1 Thief. Is not this he? All. Where? 2 Thief. 'Tis his description. 3 Thief. He; I know him. All

. Save thee, Timon. Tim. Now, thieves. All. Soldiers; not thieves, Tim. Both too, and womens fons. All. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meet. (33) Why should you want? behold, the earth hath roots, Within this mile break forth an hundred springs; The oaks bear masts, the briars scarlet hips : The bounceous huswife nature on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want!

(33) -you want much of meat.] Thus both the player and poetical editors have given us this passage; quite sand-blind, as honest Launcelot says, to our author's meaning. If these poor thieves wanted meat, what greater want could they be curs’d with, as they could not live on grafs, and berries, and water? But I dare warrant, the poet wrote;

-you want much of meet. i.e. Much of what you ought to be; much of the qualities befitting you as humane creatures. In the very fame manner is the word used again in Coriolanus, speaking of tribunes being chosen at an unfit time;

In a rebellion,
When what's not meet, but what muft be, was law,

Then were they chosen,
And in a little poem of our author's, call'd, The Tryal of Love's Coma
Mancy, we find him employing the fubftantive in the like sense.

To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding;
And fick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
To be diseas'd ere that there was true needing.

1 Thief:

1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profeft; that you work not In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft In limited professions. Rascals, thieves, Here's gold. Go, fuck the subtle blood o'th' grape, "Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the physician, His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob. Take wealth, and live together. Do villany, do, fince you profess to do't, Like workmen; I'll example you with thievery. The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea. The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun, The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge refolves (34)

The (34) The fea's a thief, wbose liquid surge resolves

I be moon into falt tcars.] The sea melting the moon into tears, is, I believe, a secret in philosophy, which no body but Shakespeare's deep editors ever dream'd of. There is another opinion, which 'tis more reasonable to believe that our author may allude to; viz. that the saltness of the sea is caused by several ranges, or mounds of roch-salt under water, with which resolving liquid the sea was impregnated. Varenius in his geography is very copious upon this argument: After having touch'd upon another opinion, that the faline particles were coeval with the ocean itself, he subjoins; Si ea caufa minus placet, alteram eligemus; nimirum falsas islas particulas a terrâ binc inde avulsas el', & in aquâ diffolutas. Lib. 1. cap. 13. prop. 3. This I think a fufficient authority for changing moon into mounds: and I am fill the more confirm'd, because Mr. Warburton, who did not know I had touch'd the place, fent me up the very fame correction. Of the sea thus encroaching upon the land, our author has made mention more than once in his works. See 2 Henry IV.

- see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level; and the continent,

Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
And again, in a poem of his, call’d, Injurious Time :

When have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the fhore,


Into the sea.

The mounds into falt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a compofture stoll'n (35)
From gen’ral excrements : each thing's a thief,
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves, away,
Rob one another, there's more gold ; cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
Break open shops, for nothing can you steal
But thieves do lose it : steal not less for what
I give, and gold confound you howsoever! Amen. [Exit.

3 Thief. Ħ'as almost charm'd me from my profesiion, by persuading me to it.

1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus ad. vises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. (trade.

2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy; and give over my 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens; (36)

2 Thief. There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.


And in a play, ascrib’d to him, call's Pericles Prince of Tyre. Act 4.

Tberis, being proud, swallow'd some part o'th' earth. It may not be amiss to observe, that in all the editions of this play, except one old quarto printed in 1609, the name of Tbetis is loft, and nonsenfically corrupted into these two words :

That is, being proud, &c. (35)

by a composure ftoln From gen’ral excrement:) I have restor'd from the old editions, come posture; and there is no doubt but that was our author's word here. For he is speaking

of that artificial dung, call'd compoft. So Haml. Act 3. And do not spread the compost on the weeds,

To make them ranker. (36) : Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens ; &c.] This and the concluding little speech have in all the editions been placed to one speaker : But, as Mr. Warburton very juftly observ'd to me, 'tis evio dent, the latter words ought to be put in the mouth of the first thief, who is for repenting, and leaving off his trade.

[blocks in formation]

А с T V. SCENE, The Woods, and Timon's Cave.

Enter Flavius.



FLAVIUS. , you gods!

Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my Lord?
Full of decay and failing? oh, monument
And wonder of good deeds, evilly bestow'd !
What change of honour desp'rate want has made
What viler ching upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to baselt ends :
How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
When man was wisht to love his enemies :
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do!
H'as caught me in his eye, I will present
My honest grief to him; and, as my Lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

Timon comes forward from his Cave.
Tim. Away! what art thou ?
Flav. Have you forgot me, Sird

Tim. Why doft ask that? I have forgot all men.
Then if thou grantest that thou art a man,
I have forgot thee.

Flav. An honeft servant,

Tim. Then I know thee not:
I ne'er had honest man about me, all
I kept were knaves, to ferve in meat to villains.

Flav. The gods are witness,
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone Lord, than mine eyes


you. Tim. What doft thou weep?come nearer,then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'ft

« AnteriorContinua »