Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. Tim. 'Would, thou wert clean enough to spit upon.' A plague on thee! (24)

Apem. Thou art too bad to curfe.

Tim. All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure. Apem. There is no leprofie but what thou speak'st. Tim. If I name thee. I'll beat thee; but I fhould infect my hands.

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

.

Apem. Bealt!.

Tim. Slave!

Apem. Toad!

Tim. Rogue! rogue! rogue!

[Apem. retreats backward, as going. I am fick of this falfe world, and will love nought But ev'n the meer neceffities upon it.

Then, Timon, prefently prepare thy grave;
Lye 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,
Whofe Blush doth thaw the confecrated fnow,
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible God,

(24) A Plague on thee!

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 curse. My Division entirely cures the Abfurdity; and makes Apemantus reply in Character.

That

That fouldreft clofe impoffibilities,

And mak'ft them kifs! that fpeak'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

hor them.

Enter Thieves.

Eat, Timon, and ab

[Exit Apem.

1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is fome poor fragment, fome flender ort of his remainder. the meer 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 greatest want is, you want much of meet. (25)

Why

(25) you want much of meat.] Thus both the Player and poetical Editors have given us this Paffage; quite

H 2

Sand

1

Why fhould you want? behold, the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth an hundred springs;
The oaks bear mafts, the briars fcarlet hips:
The bounteous hufwife nature on each bufh
Lays her full mefs before you. Want? why want?
1 Thief. We cannot live on grafs, on berries, water,
As beafts, and birds, and fifhes.

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fifhes;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,
That are thieves profeft: that
you

you

work not
In holier fhapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited profeffions. Rafcals, thieves,

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 poiion, and he flays

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

Like workmen; I'll example you with thievery.
The Sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vaft Sea. The Moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire fhe fnatches from the Sun.
The Sea's a thief, whofe liquid furge refolves (26)
The

Sand-blind, as honeft Launcelot fays, to our Author's Meaning. If these 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 be fitting you as humane Creatures.

(26) The Sea's a Thief, whofe liquid Surge refelves

The Moon into falt Tears.] The Sea melting the Moon into Tears, is, I believe, a Secret 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 Saltness of the Sea is caused by feveral Ranges, or Mounds of Roch-Salt under Water, with which refolving Liquid the Sea was impregnated. This I think a sufficient Authority for changing Moon into

Mounds:

The Mounds into falt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stoln
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 your felves, 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

I 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.

1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy; and give over my trade.

1 Thief. Let us first fee peace in Athens; (27) 2 Thief. There is no time fo miferable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE, The Woods, and Timon's Cave.

Enter FLAVIUS.

H, you Gods!

FLAVIU S.

Is yon defpis'd and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? oh, monument And wonder of good deeds, evilly bestow'd!

What

Mounds: and I am still the more confirm'd, because Mr. Warburton, who did not know I had touch'd the Place, fent me up the very fame Correction.

(27) Thief. Let us first fee Peace in Athens ; &c.] This and the concluding little Speech have in all the Editions been

H 3

placed

What change of honour defp'rate want has made?
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring nobleft minds to baseft 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 mifchief me, than those that do!
H'as caught me in his eye, I will present
My honeft grief to him; and, as my lord,

Still ferve him with my life.

My dearest master!

Timon comes forward from his Cave.

Tim. Away! what art thou?

Fla. Have you forgot me, Sir?

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

I have forgot thee.

Fla. An honeft fervant,

Tim. Then I know thee not:

I ne'er had honeft man about me, all

I kept were knaves, to ferve in meat to villains.
Fla. The Gods are witness,

Ne'er did poor fteward 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'ft

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!

Fla. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, T'accept my grief, and, whilft this poor wealth lafts, To entertain me as your fteward ftill.

Tim. Had I a fteward

placed to one Speaker: But, as Mr. Warburton very justly ob ferv'd to me, 'tis evident, the latter Words ought to be put in the Mouth of the first Thief, who is repenting, and leav ing off his Trade,

So