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Apem. Ay.

Tim. What! a knave too?

Apem. If thou didst put this fower cold habit on
To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou
Doft it enforcedly: thou'dft courtier be,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing mifery
Out-lives incertain pomp; is crown'd before:
The one is filling ftill, never compleat;

The other, at high wifh: Beft ftates, contentless,
Have a diftracted and moft wretched being:
Worfe than the worst, content.

Thou should't defire to die, being miferable.
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miferable.
Thou art a flave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favour never clafpt; but bred a dog.
Hadft thou, like us, from our firft swath proceeded
Through fweet degrees that this brief world affords,
To fuch, as may the paffive drugs of it

Freely command; thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
In general riot, melted down thy youth
In different beds of luft, and never learn'd
The icy precepts of refpect, but followed
The fugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, the hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employments;
That numberless upon me ftuck, as leaves

Do on the oak; have with one winter's brush
Fall'n from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every ftorm that blows. I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is fome burden.

Tim. What a knave too?] Mr. Warburton proposes a correction here, which, tho' it oppofes the reading of all the printed copies, has great juftness and propriety in it. He would read thus ;

What! and know't too ?

The reasoning of the text, as it ftands in the books, is, in fome fort, concluding backward: or rather making a knave's and villain's office different: which, furely, is abfurd. The correction quite removes the abfurdity, and gives this fenfible rebuke. "What! do'ft "thou please thyfelf in vexing me, and at the fame time know it to be the office of a villain or fool ?”

Thy

Thy nature did commence in fuff'rance, time

Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee. What haft thou given?
If thou wilt curfe, thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy fubject; who in spight put stuff
To fome fhe-beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone-
If thou hadst not been born the worft of men,
Thou hadst been knave and flatterer.

Apem. Art thou proud yet?
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem. I, that I was no prodigal.
Tim. I, that I am one now.

Were all the wealth I have, shut up

in thee,

I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone-
That the whole life of Athens were in this!

Thus would I eat it.

Apem. Here, I will mend thy feast.

[Eating a root.

Tim. First mend my company, take away thyfelf. (30) 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.
Apem. Where ly'ft o' nights, Timon?
Tim. Under that's above me.

Where feed'ft thou o'days, Apemantus ?

Apem. Where my ftomach finds meat; or, rather,

where I eat it.

Tim. Would poison were obedient, and knew my
Apem. Where wouldst thou fend it?

Tim. To fauce thy dishes.

mind!

(30) First mend thy company,- -] Thus the old copies; but com

mon fenfe and the whole tenour of the context warrant that it fhould be my company.-I obferve, Mr. Rawe in his Svo edition of our poet has likewife made this correction.

H. 6

Apem.

Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewek, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wat in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mockt thee for too much curiofity; in thy rags thou knoweft none, but art defpis'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 medlars fooner, thou shouldst have loved thyfelf better now. What man didft thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means ?

Tim. Who, without those means thou talk'ft of, didst thou ever know beloved?

Apem. Myfelf.

Tim. I understand thee, thou hadft fome means to keep a dog.

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 thyself fall in the confusion of men, or remain a beaft with the beasts?

Apem. Ay, Timon.

Tim. A beaftly ambition, which the gods grant thee t' 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 still thou liv'dft but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee; and oft thou fhouldt 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 feized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and

the

the fpots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy fafety were remotion, and thy defence abfence. What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beait̃? and what a beast art thou already, and feest not thy loss. in transformation!

Apem. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou might't have hit upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beafts.

Tim. How has the afs broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

Apem. Yonder comes a poet, and a painter. (31) The 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. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

Tim. Would, thou wert clean enough to fpit upon. A plague on thee! (32).

Apem. Thou art too bad to curse.

Tim. All villains, that do ftand by thee, are pure.
Apem. There is no leprofy but what thou speak'ft.
Tim. If I name thee I'll beat thee; but I should
infect my hands.

Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off!
Tim. Away,, thou iffue of a mangy dog!

(31) Apem. Yonder comes a poet, &c.] Apemantus is fuppos'd to lock out here, and to fee the poet and painter at a diftance, as traverfing the woods in queft of Timon. This preparation of scenery Mr. Pope did not conceive; and therefore, I don't know by what authority, has peremptorily thrown out fome part, and tranfpofed another part of this and the next fpeech to the place where Apemantus goes off. None of the old books countenance fuch a tranfpofition. (32) A plague on thee!

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Apem- -Thou art too bad to curfe.] In the former editions,, this whole verfe was placed to Apemantus by which, abfurdly, he was made to curfe Timon, and immediately to fubjoin that he was too bad to curfe. In my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd I gave the former part of the hemiftich to Timon, and the latter part to Apemantus; as it is now regulated in the text and Mr. Pop, in his laft edition, has vouchfafed to embrace this regulation,

Choler

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. Beaft!

Tim. Slave!

Apem. Toad!

Tim. Rogue! rogue! rogue!

[Apem. retreats backwards, as going.

I am fick of this falfe world, and will love nought
But ev'n the mere neceffities upon it.

Then, Timon, prefently prepare thy grave;
Lie 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 fweet 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, Whose blush doth thaw the confecrated fnow,

That lies on Dian's lap! thou vifible god,

That foldreft clofe impoffibilities,

And mak'ft them kifs! that speak'ft with every tongue,

To every purpofe! oh, thou touch of hearts!

Think, thy flave man rebels; and by thy virtue

Set them into confounding odds, that beafts

May have the world in empire.

Apem. Would 'twere fo,

But not 'till I am dead! I'll fay, thou haft gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd to fhortly.

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.

Apem. Mo things like men-eat, Timon, and abhor them.

[Exit Apem.

Enter

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