I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone Apem. Here, I will mend thy feast. [Eating a rost. Tim. First mend my company, take away thy felf. 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, so I have. Apem. Here is no ufe for gold. Tim. The best and trueft: For here it fleeps, and does no hired harm. Where feed'ft 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 would'ft thou fend it? Tim. To fauce thy dishes. Apem. The middle of humanity thou never kneweft, but the extremity of both ends. When thou waft in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mockt thee for too much curiofity; in thy rags thou knoweft none, but art despis'd for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it. Tim. On what I hate I feed not. Apem. Doft hate a medlar ? Tim. Ay, though it look like thee. Apem. An th' hadft hated medlers fooner, thou fhouldst have loved thy self better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means ? Tim. Who, without those means thou talk'st of, didft thou ever know beloved? Apem. My felf. Tim. I understand thee, thou hadft fome means to keep a dog. Арет. Apem. What things in the world canft thou nearest compare to thy flatterers? Tim. Women nearest; but men, men, are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? Apem. Give it the beafts, to be rid of the men. Tim. Wouldst thou have thy felf fall in the confufion of men, or remain a beast with the beafts? Apem. Ay, Timon. Tim. A beaftly ambition, which the Gods grant thee to attain to! If thou wert a lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would fufpect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accus'd by the afs; if thou wert the afs, thy dulnefs would torment thee; and ftill thou liv'dft but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greedinefs would afflict thee; and oft thou fhouldft hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own felf the conqueft of thy fury. Wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be kill'd by the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be feiz'd by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the fpots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy fafety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beaft couldft thou be, that were not fubject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, and feeft not thy lofs in transformation! Apem. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou might'ft have hit upon it here. The Commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts. Tim. How has the afs broke the wall, that thou art out of the City? The Apem. Yonder comes a Poet, and a Painter. Plague of Company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else to do, I'll fee thee again. Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou fhalt be welcome. I had rather be a Beggar's dog, than Apemantus. Apem. Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. Tim. 'Would, thou wert clean enough to spit upon. A plague on thee! (24) Apem. Thou art too bad to curfe. Tim. All villains, that do ftand by thee, are pure. Apem. There is no leprofie but what thou speak'st. Tim. If I name thee.—I'll beat thee; but I fhould infect my hands. Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off! Tim. Away, thou iffue of a mangy dog! Choler does kill me, that thou art alive : I fwoon to fee thee. Apem. 'Would, thou wouldst burst! Tim. Away, thou tedious rogue, I am forry I fhall lofe a ftone by thee. Apem. Bean! Tim. Slave! Apem. Toad! Tim. Rogue! rogue! rogue! [Apem. retreats backward, as going. am fick of this falfe world, and will love nought But ev'n the meer neceffities upon it. Then, Timon, prefently prepare thy grave; Lye where the light foam of the fea may beat Thy grave-ftone daily; make thine epitaph; That death in me at others' lives may laugh. O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce [Looking on the gold. 'Twixt natural fon and fire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's pureft bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, Whofe Blush doth thaw the confecrated fnow, That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible God, (24) A Plague on thee! Apem. Thou art too bad to curfe.] In the former Editions, this whole Verse was placed to Apemantus: by which, abfurdly, he was made to curfe Timon, and immediately to fubjoin that he was too bad to curfe. My Divifion entirely cures the Abfurdity; and makes Apemantus reply in Character, That That fouldreft clofe impoffibilities, And mak'ft them kifs ! that speak'ft with every tongue, Apem. 'Would 'twere fo, But not 'till I am dead! I'll fay, thou haft gold: Tim. Throng'd to? Apem. Ay. Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee. Apem. Live, and love thy mifery ! Tim. Long live fo, and fo die! I am quit. abhor them. Enter Thieves. Eat, Timon, and [Exit Apem. 1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is fome poor fragment, fome flender ort of his remainder: the meer want of gold, and the falling off of friends, drove him into this melancholy. 2 Thief. It is nois'd, he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the affay upon him; if he care not for't, he will fupply us eafily: if he covetously reserve it, how shall's get it? 2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him: 'tis hid. 1 Thief. Is not this he? All. Where? 2 Thief. "Tis his defcription. All. Soldiers; not thieves. Tim. Both too, and womens' fons. All. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meet.(25) Why (25) you want much of meat.] Thus both the Player and poetical Editors have given us this Paffage; quite H& Sand Why should you want? behold, the earth hath roots; Want? why want? Thief. We cannot live on grafs, on berries, water, As beafts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profeft: that you work not In holier fhapes; for there is boundless theft In limited profeffions. Rafcals, thieves, Here's gold. Go, fuck the fubtle blood o'th' grape, 'Till the high fever feeth your blood to froth, And fo 'fcape hanging. Truft not the phyfician, His antidotes are poison, and he flays More than you rob. Take wealth, and live together. Sand-blind, as honeft Launcelot fays, to our Author's Meaning. If thefe poor Thieves wanted Meat, what greater Want could they be curs'd with, as they could not live on grafs, and berries, and water? but I dare warrant, the Poet wrote; - you want much of meet. i. e. Much of what you ought to be: much of the Qualities brfitting you as humane Creatures. (26) The Sea's a Thief, whofe liquid Surge refolves The Moon into falt Tears.] The Sea melting the Moon into Tears, is, I believe, a Secret in Philofophy, which no body but Shakespeare's deep Editors ever dream'd of. There is another Opinion, which 'tis more reasonable to believe that our Author may allude to; z. that the Saltnefs of the Sea is caused by several Ranges, or Mounds of Roch-Salt under Water, with which refolving Liquid the Sea was impregnated. This I think a fufficient Authority for changing Moon into Mounds: |