Of the fame piece is every flatterer's spirit: (18)
Who can call him his friend,

That dips in the fame dish? for, in my knowing,
Timon has been to this Lord as a father,

And kept his credit with his bounteous purfe :
Supported his eftate; nay, Timon's money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne'er drinks,
But Timon's filver treads upon his lip;

And yet, oh, fee the monftroufnefs of man,
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!
He does deny him (in refpect of his)
What charitable men afford to beggars.
3 Stran. Religion groans at it.
1 Stran. For mine own part,
I never tasted Timon in my life;
Nor any of his bounties came o'er me,
To mark me for his friend. Yet, I proteft,
For his right noble mind, illuftrious virtue,
And honourable carriage,

Had his neceffity made ufe of me,

I would have put my wealth into donation,
And the best half fhould have return'd to him,
So much I love his heart: but I perceive,
Men must learn now with pity to difpence,
For policy fits above confcience.

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)
Thriv'd, give him over? muft I take the cure

On me? h'as much difgrac'd me in't; I'm angry.
He might have known my place; I fee no fenfe for't,
But his occafions might have wooed me first:

For, in my confcience, I was the first man
That e'er received gift from him.

And does he think fo backwardly of me,
That I'll requite it laft? no:

So it may prove an argument of laughter

To th' reft, and 'mongst Lords I be thought a fool :
I'd rather than the worth of thrice the fum,
H'ad fent to me firft, but for my mind's fake:
I'd fuch a courage to have done him good.
But now, return,

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,
Save the gods only. Now his friends are dead;
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
-his friends, like phyficians

(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,
With their bands full of money, use to give o’er
Their patients,

Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd
Now to guard fure their mafter.

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;
'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse;

That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet
Find little.

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,
For which I wait for money.

Hor. Against my heart.
Lue. How ftrange it shows,

G 6

Timon

Timon in this fhould pay more than he owes!
And e'en as if your Lord fhould wear rich jewels,
And fend for money for 'em.

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?
Tit. We wait for certain money here, Sir.
Fla. If money were as certain as your waiting,
"Twere fure enough.

Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills,
When your falfe masters eat of my Lord's meat ?
Then they would fmile and fawn upon his debts,
And take down th' intereft in their glutt'nous maws;
You do yourselves but wrong to fir me up,
Let me pafs quietly :-

Believe't, my Lord and I have made an end,
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.

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.
Luc. Many do keep their chambers, are not fick
And if he be fo far beyond his health,

Methinks, he should the fooner pay his debts,
And make a clear way to the gods.

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,
Like all mankind, fhew me an iron heart?

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