plainer and fimpler kind of people, the deed is quite out of ufe. To promife, is most courtly, and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or teftament, which. argues a great fickness in his judgment that makes it. Re enter Timon from his cave, unseen.

Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man fo bad as thyfelf.

Poet. I am thinking, what I fhall fay I have provided for him: it must be a perfonating of himfelf; a fatire against the foftnefs of profperity, with a difcovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

Tim. Muft thou needs ftand for a villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? do fo, I have gold for thee.

Poet. Nay, let's seek him.

Then do we fin against our own eftate,

When we may profit meet, and come too late.
Pain. True.

Poet. While the day ferves, before black-corner'd night, (35)

Find what thou want'ft, by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim. I'll meet you at the turn

What a god's gold, that he is worshipped

In bafer temples, than where fwine do feed!

'Tis thou that rigg'ft the bark, and plow'ft the wave, (36) Settleft admired rev'rence in a flave;

To thee be worship, and thy faints for

aye

Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!

'Tis fit I meet them.

Poet. Hail! worthy Timon.

Pain. Our late noble mafter.

(35) While the day ferves, &c.] This couplet in all the editions is placed to the painter, but, as it is in rhyme, and a fequel of the fentiment begun by the poet, I have made no fcruple to afcribe it to him. (36) Tis thou that rigg ft the bark, and plow'f the foam, Settleft admired rev'rence in a flave,] As both the couplet preceding, and following this, are in rhyme, I am very apt to fufpect, the rhyme is difmounted here by an accidental corruption; and therefore have ventur'd to replace wave in the room of foam.

Tim. Have I once liv'd to fee two honeft men ?
Poet. Sir, having often of your bounty tafted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends, fal'n off,
Whofe thankless natures, oh abhorred spirits!
Not all the whips of heav'n are large enough-
What! to you!

Whofe ftar-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot
Cover the monftrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any fize of words.

Tim. Let it go naked, men may fee't the better: (37)
You that are honeft, by being what you are,
Make them beft feen and known.

Pain. He, and myself,

Have travell'd in the great fhower of your gifts,
And fweetly felt it.

Tim. Ay, you're honest men.

Pain. We're hither come to offer you our service. Tim. Most honeft men! why, how fhall I requite you? Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.

Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you fervice. Tim. Y'are honeft men ; you've heard, that I have gold; I'm fure, you have; speak truth, y' are honest men. Pain. So it is faid, my noble Lord, but therefore Came not my friend, nor I.

Tim. Good honeft man; thou draw'ft a counterfeit Beft in all Athens; thou'rt, indeed, the best; Thou counterfeit'ft moft lively.

Pain. So, fo, my Lord.

(37) Let it go, naked men may see't the better;] Thus has this paffage been ftupidly pointed thro' all the editions, as if naked men could fee better than men in their cloaths. I think verily, if there were any room to credit the experiment, fuch editors ought to go naked for the improvement of their eye-fights. But, perhaps, they have as little faith as judgment in their own readings. The poet, in the preceding speech haranguing on the ingratitude of Timon's falfe friends, fays, he cannot cover the monftroufnefs of it with any fize of words; to which Timon, as I have rectified the pointing, very aptly replies; Let it go naked,-- men may fee't the better.

So, our poet in his Much Ado about Nothing.

Why feekft thou then to cover with excufe
That, which appears in proper nakedness.

Tim. E'en fo, Sir, as I fay-And for thy fiction, Why, thy verfe fwells with ftuff fo fine and fmooth, That thou art even natural in thine art.

But for all this, my honeft-natur'd friends,
I must needs fay, you have a little fault;
Marry, not monftrous in you; neither with I,
You take much pains to mend.

Both. Befeech your honour

To make it known to us.

Tim. You'll take it ill.

Both. Moft thankfully, my Lord.

Tim. Will you, indeed ?

Both. Doubt it not, worthy Lord.

Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trufts a knave, That mightily deceives you.

Both. Do we, my Lord?

Tim. Ay, and you hear him cogg, fee him diffemble, Know his grofs patchery, love him, and feed him; Keep in your bofom, yet remain affur'd,

That he's a made-up villain.

Pain. I know none fuch, my Lord.

Poet. Nor I.

Tim. Look you, I love you well, I'll give you gold, Rid me thefe villains from your companies; Hang them, or flab them, drown them in a draught, Confound them by fome courfe, and come to me, I'll give you gold enough.

Both. Name them, my Lord, let's know them. Tim. You that way, and you this;-but two in company: Each man apart, all fingle and alone,

Vet an arch villain keeps him company.

If where thou art, two villains fhall not be, [To the Painter.
Come not near him.—if thou wouldftnct refide [To the Poet.
But where one villain is, then him abandon.

Hence, pack, there's gold; ye came for gold, ye flaves;
You have work for me; there's your payment, hence!
You are an alchymift, make gold of that:
[Beating and driving 'em out.

Out, rafcal dogs!

Enter

Enter Flavius and two Senators.

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak with Timon: For he is fet fo only to himself,

That nothing but himself, which looks like man
Is friendly with him.

1 Sen. Bring us to his cave.

It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
To fpeak with Timon.

2 Sen. At all times alike

Men are not ftill the fame; 'twas time and griefs
That fram'd him thus. Time, with his fairer hand
Offering the fortunes of his former days,

The former man may make him; bring us to him,
And chance it as it may.

Flav. Here is his cave:

Peace and content be here, Lord Timon! Timon!
Look out, and speak to friends: th' Athenians
By two of their most rev'rend fenate greet thee;
Speak to them, noble Timon.

Enter Timon out of his Cave.

Tim. Thou fun, that comfort'ft, burn!-
Speak, and be hang'd;

For each true word a blifter, and each falfe
Be cauterizing to the root o' th' tongue,

Confuming it with fpeaking.

1 Sen. Worthy Timon,--

Tim. Of none but fuch as you, and you of Timon. 2 Sen. The Senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. Tim. I thank them. And would fend them back the

Could I but catch it for them.

I Sen. O, forget

What we are forry for ourselves, in thee:

The Senators, with one confent of love,

Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On fpecial dignities, which vacant lie

For thy beft ufe and wearing.

2 Sen. They confess

Tow'rd thee forgetfulness, too general, grofs;

[plague,