That he may never more falfe title plead,
Nor found his quillets fhrilly. Hoar the Flamen,
That fcolds against the quality of flesh,

And not believes himself. Down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foresee

[bald,

Smells from the gen'ral weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians
And let the unfcarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive fome pain from you. Plague all;
That your activity may defeat, and quell
The fource of all erection.-There's more gold.
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!

Both. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon. Tim. More whore, more mifchief, firft; I've given you earnest.

Akc. Strike up the drum tow'rds Athens ; farewel, Timon: If I thrive well, I'll vifit thee again.

Tim. If I hope well, I'll never fee thee more.

Alc. I never did thee harm.

Tim. Yes, thou spok'ft well of me.

Alc. Call'st thou that harm?

Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee hence, away,

And take thy beagles with thee.

Alc. We but offend him: ftrike.

[Exeunt Alcibiad. Phryn. and Timand.

Tim. That nature, being fick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry! common mother, thou Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breaft Teems, and feeds all; oh thou! whofe felf-fame mettle (Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft) Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, The gilded newt, and eyelefs venom'd worm; With all th' abhorred births below crifp heav'n, Whereon Hyperion's quickning fire doth fhine; Yield him, who all thy human fons does hate, From forth thy plenteous bofom, one poor root! Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb; Let it no more bring out ingrateful man. Gó great with tygers, dragons, wolves and bears,

H 4

Teem

Teem with new monfters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled manfion all above
Never prefented-O, a root-dear thanks!

Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas, (27)
Whereof ingrateful man with liqu'rith draughts,
And morfels unctious, greafes his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips.—

Enter Apemantus.

More man? plague, plague!

Apem. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
Tim. 'Tis then, because thou doft not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate; confumption catch thee!
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected, .
A poor unmanly melancholy, fprung

From change of fortune. Why this fpade? this place?
This flave-like habit, and these looks of care?

Thy flatt'rers yet wear filk, drink wine, lye foft;
Hug their difeas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not thefe weeds, (28)

By

(27) Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas.] Mr. Warburton thinks, the uniformity of the metaphor requires that we should read,

Dry up thy harrow'd veins, and plough-torn leas.

'Tis certain, the verfe is render'd much more beautiful by this reading; but as, unctious morfels following, by marrows the poet might mean what we call the fat of the land, I have not ventur'd to infert the conjecture into the text.

(28) Shame not thefe woods,] But how did Timon any more shamethe woods by affuming the character of a cynick, than Apemantus did? The poet certainly meant to make Apemantus fay, don't difgrace this garb, which thou haft only affected to affume; and to feem the creature thou art not by nature, but by the force and compulfion of poverty. We must therefore reftore,

-Shame not thefe weeds.

Apemantus in feveral other paffages of the scene reproaches him with his change of garb.

-Why this fpade? this place?

This flave-like habit?

-Do not affume my likeness.

If thou did't put this fower cold babit on

Το

By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatt'rer now, and feek to thrive
By that which has undone thee; hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou'lt observe
Blow off thy cap; praise his moft vicious ftrain,
And call it excellent. Thou waft told thus :
Thou gav'ft thine ears, like tapfters, that bid welcome
To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis moft juft
That thou turn rascal: hadft thou wealth again,
Rafcals fhould have't.

Do not affume my likeness.

Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Apem. Thou'ft caft away thyself, being like thyfelf, So long a madman, now a fool. What, think'ft thou, That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy fhirt on warm? will these moift trees That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels, And skip when thou point'ft out? will the cold brook, Candied with ice, cawdle thy morning tafte

To cure thy o'er-night's furfeit? Call the creatures,
Whofe naked natures live in all the spight

Of wreakful heav'n, whofe bare unhoufed trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,

Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
Oh! thou fhalt find-

Tim. A fool of thee; depart.

Apem. I love thee better now, than e'er I did.
Tim. I hate thee worse.

Apem. Why?

Tim. Thou flatt'reft mifery.

Apem. I flatter not; but fay, thou art a caitiff.
Tim. Why doft thou feek me out?

Apem. To vex thee.

Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's.

Doft please thyfelf in't? (29)

To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou
Do't it enforcedly: thou'dft courtier be,

Wert thou not beggar,

(29) Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's.

Do'ft please thyself in't?

Apem. Ay.

Apem.

Mr. Warburton.

Apem. Ay.

Tim. What! a knave too?

Apem. If thou didft put this fower cold habit on
To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou
Doft it enforcedly thou'dft courtier be,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing mifery
Out-lives in certain pomp; is crown'd before:
The one is filling ftill, never compleat;

The other, at high wifh: Beft ftates, contentlefs,
Have a distracted and moft wretched being:
Worfe than the worft, content.

Thou fhouldft defire to die, being miferable.
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miferable.
Thou art a flave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favour never clafpt; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us, from our firft fwath proceeded
Through sweet degrees that this brief world affords,
To fuch, as may the paffive drugs of it

Freely command; thou wouldst have plung'd thyfelf
In general riot, melted down thy youth
In different beds of luft, and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but followed
The fugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, the hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employments;
That numberlefs upon me ftuck, as leaves

Do on the oak; have with one winter's brush
Fall'n from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every form that blows. I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is fome burden.

Tm. What! a knave too?] Mr. Warburton propofes a correction here, which, tho' it oppofes the reading of all the printed copies, has great juftnefs and propriety in it. He would read;

What! and know't too?

The reafoning of the text, as it ftands in the books, is, in fome fort, concluding backward: or rather making a knave`s and villain's office different: which, furely, is abfurd. The correction quite removes the abfurdity, and gives this fenfible rebuke. "What! do'st "thou pleafe thyfelf in vexing me, and at the fame time know it to be the office of a villain or feel?"

Thy

Thy nature did commence in fuff'rance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee. What haft thou given?
If thou wilt curfe, thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy fubject; who in fpight put ftuff
To fome the-beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone-
If thou hadft not been born the worft of men,
Thou hadst been knave and flatterer.
Apem. Art thou proud yet?
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem. I, that I was no prodigal.
Tim. I, that I am one now.

Were all the wealth I have, fhut up in thee,
I'd give the leave to hang it. Get thee gone-
That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.

Apem. Here, I will mend thy feast.

[Eating a root.

Tim. First mend my company, take away thyfelf. (30) Apem. So I fhall mend my own, by th' lack of thine. Tim. 'Tis not well mended fo, it is but botcht; If not, I would it were.

Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens?

Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind; if thou wilt, Tell them there, I have gold; look, fo I have. Apem. Here is no use for gold,

Tim. The beft and trueft:

For here it fleeps, and does no hired harm.
Apem. Where ly'ft o' nights, Timon?

Tim. Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o'days, Apemantus?

Apem. Where my ftomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim. Would poifon were obedient, and knew my mind! Apem. Where wouldst thou send it ?

Tim. To fauce thy dishes.

(30) Firft mend thy company, ----] Thus the old copies; but common fenfe and the whole tenour of the context warrant that it should be---my company.---I obferve, Mr. Rowe in his 8vo edition of our poet has likewife made this correction,

Apem