Tim. That by killing of villains Thou waft born to conquer my country. Put up thy gold. Go on, here's gold, go on; Will o'er fome high-vic'd city hang his poifon Herfelf's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek Set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe, Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat fhall cut, (25) That thro' the window-barn bore at men's eyes.] I cannot for my heart imagine, what idea our wife editors had of a virgin's breaft thro' a windory-barn: which, I am fatisfied, must be a corrupt reading. In short, the poet is alluding to the decent cuftom in his time of the women covering their necks and bofom either with Lawn, or Cyprus; both which being transparent, the poet beautifully calls it the window-lawn. Vid. Twelfth-night, Act 3.--to one of your receiving Enough is fhewn; a Cyprus, not a bofom, Hides my poor heart. Beaumont and Fletcher in their Scornful Lady. Lady. Pray put in good words then. El. Love. The worst are good enough for fuch a trifle, fuch-a proud piece of cobweb-lawn. B. Jonfon in his Sejanus, fpoken by Agrippina. And ev'ry wall and hanging in my house. Tran parent as this Lawn I wear. And in his Every Man out of his Humour. -She speaks, as fhe goes tir'd, in cobrveb-lawn, light thin And in bis Every Man in bis Humour. and fhadow her glory as a miiliner's wife does her wrought fomacher with a fmoaky Lawn, or a black Cyprus. H 3 Nor 2 Nor fight of priest in holy vestments bleeding, I'll take the gold thou giv'ft me, not thy counsel. And be no turn-coats: yet may your pains fix months Wear them, betray with them; and whore on still, -A pox of wrinkles! Both. Well, more gold-what then? Believe, that we'll do any thing for gold. In hollow bones of man, ftrike their sharp fhins, (26) And to make a whore a bawd.] The power of gold, indeed, may be fuppos'd great, that can make a whore forfake her trade; but what mighty difficulty was there in making a whore turn bawd? And yet, 'tis plain, here he is defcribing the mighty power of gold. He had before fhewn, how gold can perfuade to any villainy; he now fhews that it has ftill a greater force, and can even turn from vice to the practice, or, at leaft, the femblance of virtue. We must therefore read, to reftore fenfe to our author, And to make whole a bawd. i. e. not only make her quit her calling, but thereby reftore her to reputation. Mr. Warburton, That That he may never more false title plead, Nor found his quillets fhrilly. Hoar the Flamen, And not believes himself. Down with the nofe, Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away Of him, that his particular to foresee [bald, Smells from the gen'ral weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians And let the unfcarr'd braggarts of the war Do And ditches grave you all! Both. More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon. Tim. More whore, more mifchief, firft; I've given you earneft. Alc. Strike up the drum tow'rds Athens; farewel, Timon: If I thrive well, I'll vifit thee again. Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Alc. I never did thee harm. Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Alc. Call'ft thou that harm ? Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee hence, away, And take thy beagles with thee. Alc. We but offend him: ftrike. [Exeunt Alcibiad. Phryn. and Timand. Tim. That nature, being fick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast Teem 4 Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Never prefented-O, a root-dear thanks! Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas, (27) And morfels unctious, greafes his poor mind, Enter Apemantus. More man? plague, plague!- Apem. I was directed hither. Men report, From change of fortune. Why this fpade? this place Thy flatt'rers yet wear filk, drink wine, lye foft; Hug their difeas'd perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these weeds, (28) By (27) Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas.] Mr. Warburton thinks, the uniformity of the metaphor requires that we should read, Dry up thy harrow'd veins, and plough-torn leas. 'Tis certain, the verfe is rendered much more beautiful by this reading; but as, unctious morfels following, by marrows the poet might mean what we call the fat of the land, I have not ventured to infert the conjecture into the text. (28) Shame not thefe woods,] But how did Timon any more shame the woods by affuming the character of a cynick, than Apemantus did? The poet certainly meant to make Apemantus fay, Don't difgrace this garb, which thou haft only affected to affume; and to feem the creature thou art not by nature, but by the force and compulfion of poverty. We must therefore reftore, -Shame not thefe weeds. Apemantus in feveral other paffages of the fcene reproaches him with hi, change of garb. -Why this fpade? this place? This flave-like habit? -Do not affume my likeness. If thou did't put this fewer cold habit on Το By putting on the cunning of a carper. Apem. Thou'ft caft away thyself, being like thyfelf, To cure thy o'er-night's furfeit? Call the creatures, Of wreakful heav'n, whofe bare unhoufed trunks, Anfwer mere nature; bid them flatter thee; Tim. A fool of thee; depart. Apem. I love thee better now, than e'er I did. Apem. Why? Tim. Thou flatt'reft mifery. Apem. I flatter not; but fay, thou art a caitiff. Apem. To vex thee. Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Doft please thyfelf in't? (29) To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou Wert thou not beggar. (29) Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Doft pleafe thyself in't? Apem. Ay, Apem. Mr, Warburton, |