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Here's to my love !-[Drinks.] 0, true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. --Thus with a kiss I die. Dies.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACTI.

PAINTING

The painting is almost the natural man;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are
Even such as they give out*.

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!

ACT II. .

A FAITHFUL STEWARD.

So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppress'd * Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be.

+ The apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c.

With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
With drunken spilth of wine; when every room
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy;
I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock*,
And set mine eyes at flow.

INGRATITUDE. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fallt, want treasure, cannot Do what they would; are sorry—you are honour

able, But yet they could have wish'd—they know notSomething has been amiss—a noble nature but May catch a wrench-would all were well—'tis

pityAnd so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractionsg, With certain half-caps||, and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence.

ACT Iur.
THE MISERABLE SHIFTS OF INGRATITUDE.
Ser. My honoured lord, [TO Lucius.

Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well: Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.

Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath sent

Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much en

* A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste.
tio e. At an ebb.

Intending, had anciently the same meaning as attendinge
Broken hints, abrupt remarks.
A half cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off.

ння

with me;

deared to that lord; he's ever sending: How shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?

Ser. He has only sent his present occasion now, my lord; requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.

Luc. I know, his lordship is but merry He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.

Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
If his occasion were not virtuous*,
I should not urge it half so faithfully.

Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius ?
Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir.

Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might have shown myself honourable ? how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour ;-Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do't; the more beast, I say:-I was sending to use lore] Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done it

Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind : And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him?

Ser. Yes, sir, I shall.
Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius.-

[Exit SERVILIUS. *“ If he did not want it for a good use."

now.

True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed;
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. [Exit.

AGAINST DUELLING.

Your words have took such pains, as if they la

bour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling Upon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were but newly born He's truly valiant, than can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe; and make his

wrongs His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly; And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

ACT IV.
TIMON'S EXECRATION OF THE ATHENIANS.

SCENE. Without the Walls of Athens.
Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth,
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
Obedience fail in children! slaves, and fools,
Pluck the

grave

wrinkled senate from the bench, And minister in their steads! to general filths* Convert o’the instant green virginity! Do't in your parent's eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters' throats ! bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law! maid, to thy master's bed;

* Common sewers.

Thy mistress is o'the brothel! son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries*,
And yet confusion live!—Plagues incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs

may

halt As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth; That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains, Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop Be general leprosy! breath infect breath; That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee, But nakedness, thou detestable town!

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.

ON GOLD.

Earth, yield me roots!

[Digging * i. e. Contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or destroy each other.

+ For libertinisto.

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