Enter Thieves.

1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is fome poor fragment, fome flender ort of his remainder; the mere 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 referve it, how fhall'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.
3 Thief. He; I know him.
All. Save thee, Timon.
Tim. Now, thieves.

All. Soldiers; not thieves.

Tim. Both too, and womens fons.

All. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greateft want is, you want much of meet. (33) Why should you want? behold, the earth hath roots, Within this mile break forth an hundred fprings ; The oaks bear mafts, the briars fcarlet hips: The bounteous hufwife nature on each bufh Lays her full mefs before you. Want? why want ?

(33)--you want much of meat.] Thus both the player and poetical editors have given us this paffage; quite fand-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 befitting you as humane creatures. In the very fame manner is the word used again in Coriolanus, fpeaking of tribunes being chosen at an unfit time;

-In a rebellion,

When what's not meet, but what muft be, was law,

Then were they chofen.

And in a little poem of our author's call'd, The Tryal of Love's Confancy, we find him employing the fubftantive in the like sense.

To bitter fauces did I frame my feeding;
And fick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
To be difeas'd ere that there was true needing.

2

1 Thief.

1 Thief. We cannot live on grafs, on berries, water, As beafts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beafts themselves, the birds and fishes;
You must eat men.
Yet thanks I must you con,

That you are thieves profeft; that you work
In holier fhapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited profeffions. Rafcals, thieves.

not

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 physician,
His antidotes are poifon, and he flays

More than you rob. Take wealth, and live together.
Do villany, do, fince you profess to do't,

Like workmen; I'll example you with thievery.
The fun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea. The moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire fhe fnatches from the fun.
The fea's a thief, whofe liquid furge refolves (34)

(34) The fea's a thief, whofe liquid furge refolves

The

The moon into falt tears.] The fea melting the moon into tears, is, I believe, a fecret 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; viz. that the faltnefs of the fea is caufed by feveral ranges, or mounds, of roch falt under water, with which refolving liquid the fea was impregnated. Varenius in his geography is very copious upon this argument: After .having touch'd upon another opinion, that the faline particles were coeval with the ocean itfelf, he fubjoins; Si ca caufa minus placet, alteram eligemus; nimirum falfas iftas particulas a terrâ binc inde avulfas effe, & in aquâ diffolutas. Lib. 1. cap. 13. prop. 8. This I think a fufficient authority for changing moon into mounds: and I am ftill the more confirm'd, becaufe Mr. Warburton, who did not know I had touch'd the place, fent me up the very fame correction. Of the fea thus encroaching upon the land, our author has made mention more than once in his works.

Into the fea.

And again, in a poem of his, call'd, Injurious Time;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,

And

The mounds into falt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a compofture ftoll'n (35)
From gen❜ral excrements: each thing's a thief,
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourfelves, away,
Rob one another, there's more gold; cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
Break open fhops, for nothing can you steal
But thieves do lofe it: fteal not lefs for what

1 give, and gold confound you how foever! Amen. [Exit. 3 Thief. H'as almost charm'd me from my profeffion, by perfuading me to it.

Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advifes us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. [trade. 2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy; and give over my 1 Thief. Let us firft fee peace in Athens. (36)

2 Thief. There is no time fo miferable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt.

And in a play, afcrib'd to him, call'd Pericles Prince of Tyre. Act 4. Thetis, being proud, fwallow'd fome part o' th' earth.

It may not be amifs to obferve, that in all the editions of this play, except one old quarto printed in 1609, the name of Thetis is loft, and Bonfenfically corrupted into thefe two words :

That is, being proud, &c.

(35)

-by a compofure ftoln

From gen'ral excrement:] I have reftor'd from the old editions, compofture; and there is no doubt but that was our author's word here. For he is fpeaking of that artificial dung, call'd compost. So Haml. A& 3. And do not spread the compoft on the weeds,

To make them ranker.

(36) 1 Thief. Let us first fee peace in Athens; &c.] This and the concluding little fpeech have in all the editions been placed to one fpeaker: But, as Mr. Warburton ve y justly observ'd to me, 'tis evident, the latter words ought to be put in the mouth of the first thief, who is for repenting, and leaving off his trade.

A CT V.

SCENE, The Woods, and Timon's Cave.

Ο
OH, you gods!

Enter Flavius.

FLAVIU S.

Is yon defpis'd and ruinous man my Lord?
Full of decay and failing? oh, monument
And wonder of good deeds, evilly beftow'd !
What change of honour defp'rate want has made?
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring nobleft minds to bafest ends ?
How rarely does it meet with this time's guife,
When man was wifht to love his enemies :
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me, than those that do !
H'as caught me in his eye, I will prefent
My honeft grief to him; and, as my Lord,
Still ferve him with my life. My deareft mafter!

Timon comes forward from his Cave.

Tim. Away! what art thou?

Flav. Have you forgot me, Sir?

Tim. Why doft afk that? I have forgot all men, Then if thou grantest that thou art a man,

I have forgot thee.

Flav. An honeft fervant,

Tim. Then I know thee not:

I ne'er had honeft man about me, all

I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
Flav. The gods are witness,

Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief

For his undone Lord, than mine eyes for you.

Tim. What,doft thou weep? come nearer, then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st

Flinty mankind; whofe eyes do never give

But or through luft, or laughter. Pity's fleeping;
Strange times! that weep with laughing not with weeping.
Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my Lord,
T' accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lafts,
To entertain me as your steward ftill.

Tim. Had I a steward

So true, fo juft, and now fo comfortable ?
It almoft turns my dangerous nature wild.-
Let me behold thy face: furely, this man
Was born of woman.

Forgive my gen'ral and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual, fober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man: mistake me not, but one :
No more, I pray; and he's a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'ft thyself: but all, fave thee,
I fell with curfes.

Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wife;
For, by oppreffing and betraying me,

Thou might'ft have fooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,

Upon their firft Lord's neck. But tell me true,
(For I muft ever doubt, though ne'er fo fure)
Is not thy kindness fubtle, covetous,

A ufuring kindness, as rich men deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one ?

did feaft

Flav. No, my most worthy master, (in whose breast Doubt and fufpect, alas, are plac'd too late,) You fhould have fear'd falfe times, when you Sufpect ftill comes, where an eftate is leaft. That which I fhew, heav'n knows, is merely love, Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind, Care of your food and living: and, believe it, For any benefit that points to me

and wealth

Either in hope, or prefent, I'd exchange
For this one wish, that you had power
To requite me by making rich yourself.
Tim. Look thee, 'tis fo; thou fingly honest man,
Here, take; the gods out of my misery