Of the fame piece is every flatterer's spirit: (18) That dips in the fame dish? for, in my knowing, And kept his credit with his bounteous purfe : And yet, oh, fee the monftroufnefs of man, Had his neceffity made ufe of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, Enter a third Servant with Sempronius. [Exeunt Sem. Muft he needs trouble me in't? 'bove all others He might have tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus, And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeem'd from prifon : All these three' Owe their eftates unto him. Ser. Oh, my Lord, They've all been touch'd, and all are found bafe metal; For they have all deny'd him. Sem. How? deny'd him ? Ventidius and Lucullus both deny'd him? And does he fend to me? three! hum (18) Is every flatterer's fport.] This fenfelefs corruption has hitherto run through all the editions; and, as I fuppofe, without fufpicion, G 5 It fhews but little love or judgment in him. Muft I be his last refuge! his friends, like phyficians, (19) On me? h'as much difgrac'd me in't; I'm angry. For, in my confcience, I was the first man And does he think fo backwardly of me, So it may prove an argument of laughter To th' reft, and 'mongst Lords I be thought a fool : And with their faint reply this answer join ; Who bates mine honour, fhall not know my coin. [Exit. Ser. Excellent! your Lordship's a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick; he crofs'd himself by't; and I cannot think, but in the end the villanies of man will fet him clear. How fairly this Lord ftrives to appear foul? takes virtuous copies to be wicked like thofe that under hot, ardent, zeal would fet whole realms on fire. Of fuch a nature is his politick love. This was my Lord's beft hope; now all are fled, (19) Thriv'd, give him over?] I have reftor'd this old reading, only amended the pointing, which was faulty. Mr. Pope, fufpecting the phrafe, has fubftituted three in the room of thriv'd, and fo difarm'd the poet's fatire. Phyficians thriv'd is no more than phyficians grown rich : Only the adjective paffive of this verb, indeed, is not fo common in ufe; and yet it is a familiar expreffion, to this day, to fay, fuch a one is well thriven on bis trade. This very farcafm of our author is made ufe of by Webfter a contemporary poet in his Dutchess of Malfy, the eloathing only a little varied, -Phyficians thus, Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd And this is all a liberal courfe allows; Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house. [Exit. SCENE changes to Timon's Hall. Enter Varro, Titus, Hortenfius, Lucius, and other Servants of Timon's Creditors, who wait for his coming out. 7Ell met, good-morrow, Titus and Hortenfius. Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. Hor. Lucius, why do we meet together? Var. WE Luc. I think, one bufinefs does command us all. For mine is money. Tit. So is theirs and ours.. Enter Philotas. Luc. And, Sir, Philotas's too.. Phi. Good day, at once. Luc. Welcome, good brother. What d'you think the hour? Phi. Labouring for nine. Luc. So much? Phi. Is not my Lord feen yet? Luc. Not yet. Phi. I wonder he was wont to fhine at feven. Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him : You must confider that a prodigal's course Is like the fun's, but not like his recoverable, I fear; That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet Phi. I am of your fear for that.. Tit. I'll fhew you how t' obferve a strange event: Your Lord fends now for money. Hor. True, he does. Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, Hor. Against my heart. G 6 Timon Timon in this fhould pay more than he owes! Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness ! I know, my Lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, Ingratitude now makes it worse than stealth. Var. Yes, mine's three thoufand crowns: what's yours! Luc. Five thousand. Var. "Tis too much deep, and it should seem by th' fum, Your mafter's confidence was above mine Elfe, furely, his had equall'd. Enter Flaminius. Tit. One of Lord Timon's men. ; Luc. Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my Lord Ready to come forth? Flam. No, indeed, he is not. Tit. We attend his Lordship; pray, fignify fo much. Flam. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent. Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled. Luc. Ha! is not that his steward muffled fo? He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. Tit. Do you hear, Sir Var. By your leave, Sir. Fla. What do you ask of me, my friend? Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills, Believe't, my Lord and I have made an end, Luc. Ay, but this anfwer will not serve.. Fla. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not fo bafe as you; For [Exit. For you ferve knaves. Var. How! what does his cashier'd worship mutter? Tit. No matter, what, he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can fpeak broader than he that has no houfe to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings. Enter Servilius. Tit. Oh,here's Servilius; now we fhall have fome answer. Ser. If I might befeech you, gentlemen, to repair fome other hour, I fhould derive much from it. For take it of my foul, My Lord leans wond'rously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forfook him, He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber. Methinks, he should the fooner pay his debts, Ser. Good gods! Tit. We cannot take this for an answer. Flam. [within.] Servilius, help-my Lord! my Lord. Enter Timon, in a rage. Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd against my paffage Have I been ever free, and must my Be my retentive enemy, my gaol ? houfe The place, which I have feafted, does it now, Luc. Put in now, Titus. Tit. My Lord, here's my bill. Luc. Here's mine. Var. And mine, my Lord. Cap. And ours, my Lord! Phi. And our bills. Tim. Knock me down with 'em--cleave me to the girdle. Luc. Alas, my Lord. Tim. Cut out my heart in fums. Tit. Mine, fifty talents. Tim. Tell out my blood. Lurs |