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1 Sen. I hope, it remains not unkindly with your Lordship, that I return'd you an empty meffenger. Tim. O Sir, let it not trouble you.

2 Sen. My noble Lord.

Tim. Ah, my good friend, what cheer?

[The banquet brought in. 2 Sen. Most honourable Lord, I'm e'en fick of thame,

that when your Lordship t'other day fent to me, I was fo unfortunate a beggar.

Tim. Think not on't, Sir.

2 Sen. If you had fent but two hours before Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. Come, bring in all together.

2 Sen. All cover'd dishes !

1 Sen. Royal cheer, I warrant you.

3 Sen. Doubt not that, if money and the feafon can yield it.

1 Sen. How do you? what's the news?

3

Sen. Alcibiades is banish'd: hear you of it?

Both. Alcibiades banish'd!

3 Sen. 'Tis fo, be sure of it.

1 Sen. How how?

2 Sen. I pray you, upon what?

Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near?

3 Sen. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feaft toward.

2 Sen. This is the old man ftill.

3 Sen. Will't hold ? will't hold ?

2 Sen. It does, but time will, and so

3 Sen. I do conceive.

Tim. Each man to his ftool, with that fpur as he would to the lip of his mistress: your diet fhall be in all places alike. Make not a city-feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place. Sit, fit.

The gods require our thanks.

You great benefactors, sprinkle our fociety with thankfulnefs. For your own gifts make your felves prais'd: but referve fill to give, left your deities be defpifed. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another. For were your godbeads to borrow of men, men would forfake the gods.. Make the meat beloved, more than the man that gives it. Let

no affembly of twenty be without a score of villains. If there fit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are-The rest of your fees, O gods, the fenators of Athens, together with the common lag of people, what is amifs in them, you gods, make fuitable for deftruction. For thefe my friends- -as they are to me nothing, jo in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome.

Uncover, dogs, and lap.

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Some Speak. What does his Lordship mean?
Some other. I know not.

Tim. May you a better feaft never behold,

You knot of mouth-friends: fmoke, and lukewarm watc
Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
Who fuck and fpangled you with flatteries,
Washes it off, and fprinkles in your faces
Your reaking villany. Live loath'd, and long,
Moft fmiling, fmooth, detefted parafites,

Courteous deftroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time-flies,
Cap-and-knee flaves, vapours, and minute-jacks, (20)
Of man and beaft the infinite malady

Cruft you quite o'er!-What, dost thou go?
Soft, take thy phyfic firft-thou too—and thou-

[Throwing the dishes at them, and drives 'em outa Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.

here.

(20)

--and minute jacks

Of man and beaft, the infinite malady

Cruft you quite o'er !] I had reformed the bad pointing of this pal fage in my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd, and have accordingly rectified it In what fenfe could the fenators be call'd minute jacks of man and beaft? The poet just before calls them vapours; and certainly means to inforce that image, by faying, they were jacks not of a minute's truft, or dependance. Then what could the infinite malady fignify, without fomething fubjoin'd to give us a clearer idea of it? As I point the paffage, it plainly means, May the whole catalogue, the infinite number of diftempers, that have ever invaded either man or beaft, all be join'd to plague you. Coriolanus curfes his cowardly followers, in our author's tragedy fo call'd, in a manner not much unlike;

All the contagion of the South light on you,

You fhames of Rome, you! herds of boils and plagues
Plaifter you o'er, that you may be abhor'd
Farther than feen! &c.

What!

What all in motion? henceforth be no feaft,
Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest.
Burn houfe, fink Athens, henceforth hated be
Of Timon, man, and all humanity!

Re-enter the Senators.

1 Sen. How now, my Lords?

[Exit.

2 Sen. Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury! 3 Sen. Piha! did you see my cap?

4 Sen. I've lost my gown.

i Sen. He's but a mad Lord, and nought but humour fways him. He gave me a jewel th'other day, and now he has beat it out of my cap.

2 Sen. Did you fee my cap? 3 Sen. Here 'tis.

Did you fee my jewel?

4 Sen. Here lyes my gown.
i Sen. Let's make no ftay.
2 Sen. Lord Timon's mad..
3 Sen. I feel't upon my bones.

4 Sen. One day he gives us diamonds, next day ftones.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, without the walls of Athens.

Enter TIMON.

ET me look back upon thee, O thou wall,

LE

That girdleft in thofe wolves! dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! matrons, turn incontinent; Obedience fail in children; flaves and fools Pluck the grave wrinkled fenate from the bench, And minifter in their fteads: To general filths (21) Convert o' th' inftant, green virginity!

(21) To general filibs

Convert o' th' inftant, &c.] This paffage was very faulty in the pointing, till I first reform'd it in my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd; and Mr. Pope vouchfaf'd to copy my correction in his last edition.

Do't

Do't in your parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold faft;
Rather than render back, out with your knives, (22)
And cut your trufters throats. Bound fervants, fteal;
Large-handed robbers you're grave masters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' th' brothel. Son of fixteen,

Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping fire,
And with it beat his brains out! fear and piety,
Religion to the gods, peace, juftice, truth,
Domeftick awe, night-reft, and neighbourhood,
Inftruction, manners, myfteries and trades,
Degrees, obfervances, cuftoms and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries !
And yet confufion live!-plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap

On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold Sciatica,
Cripple our fenators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners. Luft and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the ftream of virtue they may ftrive,
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bofoms, and their crop
Be general leprofy: breath infect breath,
That their fociety (as their friendship) may
Be merely poifon. Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou deteftable town!

Take thou that too, with multiplying banns:
Timon will to the woods, where he fhall find
Th' unkindeft beaft much kinder than mankind.
The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all)
Th' Athenians both within and out that wall;
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow,
To the whole race of mankind, high and low!

[Exit.

(22) -Bankrupts, bold faßt. Rather than render back out with your knives, And cut your trufters throats] Thus has this paffage hitherto been moft abfurdly pointed; even by the poetical editors, Mr. Roque, and Mr. Pope. I had reform'd the pointing; but am, however, to make my acknowledgments to fome anonymous gentleman, who by letter advised me to point it as I have done it in the text.

SCENE

1 Ser.

SCENE changes to Timon's Houfe.

Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants.

HEAL

EAR you, good master steward, where's our
mafter?

Are we undone, caft off, nothing remaining?
Flav. Alack, my fellows, what fhall I fay to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,

I am as poor as you.

1 Ser. Such a house broke !

So noble a master fall'n! all gone! and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him?

2 Ser. 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 purfes pick'd: and his poor felf,
A dedicated beggar to the air,

With his difeafe of all-fhunn'd poverty,

Walks, like contempt, alone.-More of our fellows.

Enter other Servants.

Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house!
3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
That fee I by our faces; we are fellows ftill,
Serving alike in forrow. Leak'd is our bark,
And we, poor mates, ftand on the dying deck,
Hearing the furges threat: we must all part
Into the fea of air.

Flav. Good fellows all,

The lateft of my wealth I'll fhare amongst you.
Where-ever we fhall meet, for Timon's fake,
Let's yet be fellows: fhake our heads, and fay,
(As 'twere a knell unto our mafter's fortunes)
We have feen better days. Let each take fome;
Nay, put out all your hands; not one word more,
Thus part we rich in forrow, parting poor.

[He gives them money ; they embrace, and part several ways.

Oh,

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