at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; what's done, cannot be undone : to bed, to bed, to bed.

Despised Old Age. I have liv'd long enough: my way of life Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but in their stead, Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.

Diseases of the Mind Incurable. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?

Macbeth's Defiance of the Hostile Army.
Hang out our banners on the outward walls ;
The cry is still, They come : Our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,

Till famine and the ague eat them up:
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.

Reflections on Life.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle !
Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more ; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

-0004

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Timon, a noble Athenian, lavishes his wealth on a host of flatterers whose worthlessness he discovers when misfortunes overtake him. Convinced of the heartlessness of his professed friends, he revenges himself on them by inviting them to a banquet, at which the dishes contain nothing but hot water, which he flings in the faces of his guests, and himself retires to the woods and becomes a confirmed misanthrope. In the meantime Alcibiades, an Athenian general, has been banished from Athens by the Senate for too vehemently interceding on behalf of a friend under sentence of death. The banished general levies an army and besieges Athens, the gates of which are opened to him, and the play concludes with the death of Timon and the resolve of Alcibiades to punish his own and Timon's enemies. Apemantus, a churlish philosopher, and Flavius, Timon's steward, are, in addition to those named, somewhat prominent characters in the drama. Dr. Johnson speaks of this play as “a domestic tragedy which strongly fastens on the attention of the reader; in the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact.”

Act I,

Friendship in Adversity.
I am not of that feather, to shake off
My friend when he must need me. I do know him

A gentleman, that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have : I'll pay the debt and free him.

The pleasure of doing good. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them ? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them : and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits : and what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends ? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes.

Аст ІІ.
Timon's reckless Extravagance.
No care, no stop! so senseless of expense,
That he will neither know how to maintain it,
Nor cease his flow of riot: takes no account
How things go from him ; nor resumes no care
Of what is to continue.

Faithless Friends.
They answer, in a joint and corporate voice,
That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot
Do what they would; are sorry—you are honourable, —
But yet they could have wish'd—they know not—but
Something hath been amiss—a noble nature
May catch a wrench-would all were well—'tis pity-
And so, intending other serious matters,
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions,*

With certain half-caps, and cold moving nods
They froze me into silence.

Act IV.

· A Friend Forsaken.
As we do turn our backs
From our companion thrown into his grave,
So his familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick’d; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.

The Vanity of Riches.
O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us !
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
Since riches point to misery and contempt ?
Who'd be so mock'd with glory? or to live
But in a dream of friendship?
To have his pomp, and all what state compounds,
But only painted, like his varnish'd friends ?

Apemantus's Appeal to Timon in the Woods.
Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself ;
A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm! Will these mos'd trees
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures,—
Whose naked natures live in all the spite

Of wreakful heaven ;* whose bare unhoused trunks,
To the conflicting elements exposed,
Answer mere nature,—bid them flatter thee.

The Bounties of Nature.
Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath

roots ;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs :
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips ;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you.

Act V. Promising and Performance. Promising is the very air o' the time ; it opens the eyes of expectation : performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable : performance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.

Timon's message to the Athenians. Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Which once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover ; thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.Lips, let sour words go by, and language end. What is amiss, plague and infection mend ! Graves only be men's works : and death, their gain ! Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.