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A C T IV.
SCENE, Witbout the walls of Athens.
And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incontinents
Bankrupts, hold fast,
And cut your Trusters' hroats. ] Thus has this Passage hitherto been most absurdly pointed; even by the poetical Editorsy Ms. Rowe, and Mr. Pope. I had reformed the Pointing; but am, however, to make my Acknowledgements to some anonyo. mous Gentleman, who by Letter advised me to point it as I have done in the Text:
As lamely as their manners.
Luft and Liberty
SCENE changes to Timon's House.
Enter Flavius, with two or three servants. Ser.
EAR you, good master steward, where's our
Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
i Ser. Such a House broke!
2 Ser. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his
Enter other servants.
3 Ser. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery,
Fla. Good fellows all,
more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. [He gives them mony; they embrace, and part several
ways i Oh, the first wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who'd be fo mock'd with glory, as to live But in a dream of friendship? To have his Pomp, and all what State compounds, But only painted, like his varnish'd friends! Poor honest lord ! brought low by his own heart, Undone by goodness : ftrange unusual blood, .When man's worst sin is, he does too much good. Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes Gods, does Itill mar men. My dearest lord, bleit to be most accurs’d, Rich only to be wretched; thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord ! He's flung in rage from this ungrateful Seat Of monstrous friends : nor has he with him to Supply his life, or that which can command it: I'll follow and enquire him out. I'll ever serve his mind with my best will ; Whilft I have gold, I'll be his Steward still. [Exit.
SC EN E
SCENE, the WOODS.
Tim. O ,
Rotten humidity: below thy fifter's orb.
(17) Raise me this Beggar, and deny't that Lord,) Where is the Sense and English of deny't that Lord ? Deny him what? What preceding Nonn is there, to which the Pronoun It is to be referr'd! And it would be absurd to think the Poet mcant, deny to raise that Lord. The Antithesis must be, let Fortune raiso this Beggar, and let her strip, and despoil that Lord of all his Pomp and Ornaments, &c. which Sense is compleated by this Bight Alteration,
-and denude that Lord. Mr.Warburton. (18) It is the Pasture lards the Beggar's Sides,] This, as the Editors have order'd it, an idle Repetition at the best; supposing it did, indeed, contain the fame Sentiment as the foregoing Lines. But Shakespeare meant a quite different Thing: and having, like a sensible Writer, made a smart Observacion, he illustrates it by a Similitude thus:
It is the Pasture lards the Weather's Sides,
The Want that makes him lean, And the similitude is extreamly beautiful, as conveying this Satirical Reflexion; there is no more Difference between Man and Man in the Efteem of superficial or corrupt Judgments, than between a fat Sheep and a lean ons Mi, Warburton.
So are they all, for every greeze of fortune
[Digging the earth,
clear heav'ns ! thus much of this will make Black, white; fair, foul ; wrong, right; Base, noble : old, young; coward, valiant. You Gods ! why this ? what this ? you Gods! why, this. Will lug your priests and servants from your fides : Pluck stout mens' pillows from below their heads. This yellow flave Will knit and break religions ; bless th' accurs'd ; Make the hoar leprofie ador'd ; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench : this is it, That makes the wappen'd widow wed again ; She whom the spittle-house, and ulcerous fores Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To th’ April day again. Come, damned earth, Thou common whore of mankind, that puttit odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Do thy right nature. [March afar of:] Ha, a drum?
thou’rt quick, But yet I'll bury thee - thou'lt go, (strong thief) ) When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. Nay, itay thou out for earnest. [Keeping fome gold. Enter Alcibiades with drum and fife in warlike manner,
and Phrynia and Timandra. Alc. What art thou there? speak. Tim. A beast, as thou art. Cankers gnaw thy heart,