—the cunning of a carper.] For the philosophy of a Cynic, of which sect Apemantus was; and therefore he concludes:

-Do not assume my likeness. WARB.

Cunning here seems to signify counterfeit appearance. JOHN.

The cunning of a carper, is the insidious art of a critic. Shame not these woods, says Apemantus, by coming here to find fault. There is no apparent reason why Apemantus (according to Dr. Warburton's explanation) should ridicule his own sect. STEEV.

There is little reason to imagine that Apemantus, by calling himself a carper, had any intention of ridiculing his sect. He is proud of his cynical manners; and had said immediately before to Timon, thou dost affect my manners.' By cunning of a carper, he undoubtedly means, the subtilty and severity of a cynic. B.

Арет.

Call the creatures,

Whose naked natures live in all the spight

Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,

Answer mere nature-bid them flatter thee;

• Answer mere nature.' Mere nature' will be simple nature, nature unmixed; but the epithet does not suit here. I think it is the French word mere (mother), which we are here to understand, and which applies to the goddess,' with particular propriety and force. B.

Apem. Dost hate a medlar?

Tim. Ay, though it look like thee.

Ay, though it look like thee.] Timon here supposes that an objection against hatred, which through the whole tenor of the conversation appears an argument for it. One would have expected him to have answered,

Yes, for it looks like thee.

The old edition, which always gives the pronoun instead of the affirmative particle, has it,

I, though it look like thee.

Perhaps we should read,

I thought it look'd like thee. JOHN.

Ay, though it look like thee.' Johnson is right in his objection; for if the present reading be allowed to stand, the words of Timon, like to Hudibras's argument, will make against the very opinion he would wish to maintain. The true expression will be,

Ay, troth, it looks like thee;'

i. e. 'Yes, in truth, for it resembles thee.' This having been written ay, tro', was read by the printer, ay, tho'. By printing ay, tro", the general course of the speech will be preserved: it becomes uniform, and by an easy change. B.

Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

Thou art the cap, &c.] i. e. the property, the bubble. WARB.

I rather think, the top, the principal. The remaining dialogue has more malignity than wit. JoHN.

'Thou art the cap'

I should suppose that thou art the cap' will be the same as ⚫thou hast the cap,' and would understand by it,' Every fool must take off his cap, or bow to thee'-in other words, thou art the prince of fools. B.

་

Tim. Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate

wooer,

Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian's lap!

Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian's lap!·

-]

The imagery is here exquisitely beautiful and sublime. WARB. Dr. Warburton might have said-Here is a very elegant turn given to thought more coarsely expressed in King Lear.

"

-yon simpering dame,

"Whose face between her forks presages snow." STEEV.

"Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian's lap.'

What an observation is this of the latter editor! and on so truly chaste, so finely-tinted a picture. An ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten' Mr. S.'s imagination.' B.

Tim. The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears;

The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves

The moon into salt tears.

The sea melting the moon into tears, is, I believe, a secret in philosophy, which nobody but Shakspeare's deep editors ever dreamed 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 rock salt under water, with which resolving liquid the sea was impregnated. This I think a sufficient authority for changing moon into mounds. WARB.

I am not willing to receive mounds, which would not be understood but by him that suggested it. The moon is supposed to be humid, and perhaps a source of humidity, but cannot be resolved by the surges of the sea. Yet I think moon is the true reading. Here is a circulation of thievery described--the sun, moon, and sea all rob, and are robbed. JOHN.

The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves

The moon into salt tears.'

The commentators very properly declare against the melting of the moon into tears. There is, however, little difficulty in the passage. All we have to do is to change moon' into moun' (frequently so written for mound), the natural bank or fence against the waters. This moun' or bank, as every one knows, the sea is P

SHAK.

II.

continually breaking and carrying away in fragments by reason of the influx and reflux of its waves. Thus it resolves the opposing matter into tears, as the poet expresses it; and thus it is justly said to steal. B.

Tim. Had I a steward

So true, so just, and now so comfortable?

It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.

It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.] i.e. It almost turns my dangerous nature to a dangerous nature; för, by dangerous nature is meant wildness. Shakspeare wrote,

It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.

i. e. It almost reconciles me again to mankind. For fear of that, he puts in a caution immediately after, that he makes an exception but for one man. To which the Oxford editor says, rectè. WARB.

This emendation is specious, but even this may be controverted. To turn wild is to distract. An appearance so unexpected, says Timon, almost turns my savageness to distraction. Accordingly he examines with nicety lest his phrenzy should deceive him:

Let me behold thy face. Surely this man
Was born of woman.

And to this suspected disorder of mind he alludes:

Perpetual-sober, gods!

Ye powers whose intellects are out of the reach of perturbation, JoHN.

It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.' Warburton's emendation has been made in the supposition that the construction is dangerous nature.' Johnson likewise has so understood it, as we see by his interpretation of the passage. I do not conceive that such is the meaning, and would therefore read:

'It almost turns my nature dangerous-wild.'

By dangerous-wild' he seems to insinuate that he shall not be merely wild, or unsocial, as before had been thought of him, and properly; but that the words of Flavius had nearly made him dangerous-wild-they had almost driven him into fury. B.

Pain. When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,

Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light.

When the day serves, before black-corner'd night.] We should read: -black cornette night.

A cornette is a woman's head-dress for the night. So, in another place he calls her black-brow'd night. WARB.

Black-corner'd night is probably corrupt, but black cornette can hardly be right, for it should be black cornetted night. I cannot propose any thing, but must leave the place in its present state. JOHN.

I believe that Shakspeare, by this expression, meant only, Night, which is as obscure as a dark corner. STEEV.

"Night as obscure as a dark corner.' Admirable! a very notable explication! I venture to read, however, black correned'

(coronné Fr.) i. e. black crowned night.' Night is always represented by poets and painters with a crown on her head; and Shakspeare had further observed this representation in the pageants of his time. This is evidently the right reading, as there is only a transposition of the letters in the word correned (according to the emblematical device,) and cornered, the present reading. B.

Tim.

Love him, feed him,

Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd,
That he's a tnade-up villain.

—a made-up villain.] That is, a villain that adopts qualities and characters not properly belonging to him; a hypocrite. JOHN.

I rather believe that by a made-up villain' we are to understand, a man who is skilled or complete in rogueries. Dr. Johnson considers made-up in the sense of counterfeit, but he is surely wrong. If any one, of bad character, adopts qualities and manners that do not properly belong to him, we cannot say that he counterfeits the villain, but on the contrary, that he counterfeits the honest

man.

2 Sen.

B.

The publick body,-which doth 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 render.

-restraining aid to Timon ;] I think it should be refraining aid, that is, with-holding aid that should have been given to Timon. JouN. I believe we should read the passage thus:

feeling in itself

A lack of Timon's aid and sense withal,

Of its own fall-restraining aid for Timon,
Now sends us forth, &c.

Restraining seems to be used in the sense of keeping, reserving. B.

1 Sen.

So please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens (thine, and ours) to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority:

Allow'd with absolute power,- -] This is neither English nor sense.

We should read:

Hallow'd with absolute power,

i. e. Thy person shall be held sacred. For absolute power being an attribute of the gods, the ancients thought that he who had it, in society was become sacred, and his person inviolable: on which account the Romans called the tribunitial power of the emperors, sacrosancta potestas., WARB

Allow' is licensed, privileged, uncontrolled. So of a buffoon, in Love's Labour lost, it is said, that he is allowed, that is, at liberty to say what he will, a privileged scoffer, JOHN.

"Allow'd with absolute power,' is, absolute power shall be allowed or granted thee. What can possibly be clearer? B.

Tim.

For myself,

There's not a whittle in the unruly camp,

But I do prize it at my love, before

The reverend'st throat in Athens.

There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp.] A whittle is still in the midland counties the common name for a pocket clasp knite, such as chil dren use. Chaucer speaks of a "Sheffield thwittell." STEEV. There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp.'

Whittle' is knife. But the true reading is surely whistle (pipe) i. e. windpipe, throat. B.

Sol. Who's here? speak, ho!-No answer?-What is

this?

Timon is dead, who hath out-stretch'd his span:

Some beast read this; there does not live a man.

Some beast read this, here does not live a man.] Some beast read what? The soldier had yet only seen the rude pile of earth heap'd up for Timon's grave, and not the inscription upon it. We should read,

Some beast rear'd this ;

The soldier seeking, by order, for Timon, sees such an irregular mole, as he concludes must have been the workmanship of some beast inhabiting the woods; and such a cavity as must either have been so over-arched, or happened by the casual falling in of the ground. WARB.

Notwithstanding this remark, I believe the old reading to be the right. The soldier had only seen the rude heap of earth. He had evidently seen something that told him Timon was dead; and what could tell that but his tomb? The tomb he sees, and the inscription upon it, which not Being able to read, and finding none to read it for him, he exclaims peevishly, some beast read this, for it must be read, and in this place it oannot be read by man.

There is something elaborately unskilful in the contrivance of sending a soldier, who cannot read, to take the epitaph in wax, only that it may close the play by being read with more solemnity in the last scene. JOHN.

What is this?

Timon is dead, who hath out-stretch'd his span:

Some beast read this; there does hot live a man.' While Warburton's objection to the present reading is acknowledged to be just, his alteration must be considered as singularly unfortunate. The rearing of an habitation is at no time the work of a beast. By changing the order of the lines, and by reading rode instead of read, with the mark of the genitive