Tim. I thank them. And would fend them back the Could I but catch it for them.

1 Sen. O, forget

What we are forry for our felves, in thee:

The Senators, with one confent of love,

Intreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
On fpecial dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.

2 Sen. They confefs

Tow'rd thee forgetfulness, too general, grofs;
Which now the publick body, (which doth feldom
Play the recanter) feeling in it felf

[plague,

A lack of Timon's aid, hath fense withal
Of its own Fall, reftraining aid to Timon;
And fends forth us to make their forrowed Tender,
Together with a recompence more fruitful

Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, ev'n fuch heaps and fums of love and wealth,
As fhall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs 3
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.

Tim. You witch me in it,

Surprize me to the very brink of tears:
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,
And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy fenators.

1 Sen. Therefore so please thee to return with us,
And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
The Captain hip: thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow'd with abfolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority: foon we fhall drive back
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,

Who, like a boar too favage, doth root up
His country's peace.

2 Sen. And shakes his threatning fword Against the walls of Athens.

1 Sen. Therefore, Timon

Tim. Well, Sir, I will; therefore I will, Sir; thusIf Alcibiades kill my countrymen,

Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,

That Timon cares not. If he fack fair Athens,

And

And take our goodly aged men by th' beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the ftain

Of contumelious, beaftly, mad-brain'd war;

Then let him know, and tell him, Timon fpeaks it
In pity of our aged, and our youth,

I cannot chufe but tell him, that I care not.

And let him take't at worft; for their knives care not, While you have throats to answer. For my self, There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp,

But I do prize it at my love, before

The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
To the protection of the profp'rous Gods,
As thieves to keepers.

Fla. Stay not, all's in vain.

Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph,
It will be seen to morrow. My long fickness
Of health and living now begins to mend,

And nothing brings me all things. Go, live ftill;
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his;

And laft fo long enough!

1 Sen. We speak in vain.

Tim. But yet I love my Country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wrack,

As common Bruite doth put it.

1 Sen. That's well.fpoke.

Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen.

1 Sen. These words become your lips, as they pafs thro' them.

2 Sen. And enter in our ears, like great triumphers

In their applauding gates.

Tim. Commend me to them,

And tell them, that to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, loffes,
Their pangs of love, with other incident Throes,
That nature's fragile veffel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will do

Some kindness to them, teach them to prevent
Wild Alcibiades' wrath.

2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again.
Tim. I have a Tree, which grows here in my Clofe,

That

That mine own ufe invites me to cut down,
And shortly muft I fell it. Tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the frequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whofo please
To ftop affliction, let him take his Hafte; (38)
Come hither, ere my Tree hath felt the ax,
And hang himself—I pray you, do my Greeting.
Fla. Vex him no further, thus you still shall find him.
Tim. Come not to me again, but fay to Athens,
Timon hath made his everlasting manfion
Upon the beached verge of the falt flood;
Which once a-day with his emboffed froth
The turbulent furge fhall cover: Thither come,
And let my grave-ftone be your oracle.
Lips, let four words go by, and language end:
What is amifs, plague and infection mend!
Graves only be mens works, and death their gain!
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his Reign.

[Exit Timon. 1 Sen. His difcontents are unremoveably coupled to his

nature.

2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead; let us return, And ftrain what other means is left unto us

In our dear peril. (39)

1 Sen. It requires fwift foot..

[Exeunt. SCENE

(38) let him take his Tafte ;] I dont know, upon what Authority Mr. Pope in both his Editions has given us this Reading; I have reftor'd the Text from the Old Books, and, I am perfwaded, as the Author wrote. Timon's whole Harangue is copied from this Paffage of Plu tarch in the Life of M. Antony: "Ye Men of Athens, in a Court-yard "belonging to my House grows a large Fig-tree; on which many an "honeft Citizen has been pleas'd to hang himfelf: Now, as I have "Thoughts of building upon that Spot, I could not omit giving you "this publick Notice; to the End, that if any more among you have a "Mind to make the fame Ufe of my Tree, they may do it speedily before "it is destroy'd." And Rabelais, who, in the oldeft Prologue to his fourth Book, has inferted this Story from Plutarch, thus renders the Clofe of the Sentence.

Pourtant quiconque de Vous autres, et de toute la ville aura à fe pendre, s'en depefche promptement.

(39) In our dead Peril.] Thus Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope have given us this Passage; but is it not strange that the Athenians 'Peril fhould be dead,

because

SCENE changes to the Walls of Athens.

Enter two other Senators, with a Meflenger.

1 Sen. HOU haft painfully discover'd; are his files As full as thy report?

T

Mef. I have spoke the leaft. Befides, his expedition promises Prefent Approach.

2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.
Mef. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;
Who, though in general part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old love made a particular force,

And made us fpeak like friends. This man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timon's Cave,

With letters of intreaty, which imported

His fellowship i'th' Caufe against your City,
In part for his fake mov'd.

Enter the other Senators.

1 Sen. Here come our Brothers.

3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.The enemies Drum is heard, and fearful Scouring Doth choak the air with duft. In, and prepare; Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the fnare.

Enter a Soldier in the woods, feeking Timon.

Sol. By all Description this should be the place.

[Exeunt.

because one of their Hopes was dead? Such a Difappointment muft naturally give fresh Life and Strength to their Danger. We muft certainly read with the Old Folio's ;

In our dear Peril.

i, c. dread, deep. So in As you like it ;

For my Father hated his Father dearly.

So in Jul. Caf

Would it not grieve thee dearer than thy Death, &c.

And in Hamlet;

Would I bad met my deareft Foe in Heav'n, &c.

And in an hundred other paffages, that might be quoted from our Au

thor,

Who's

Who's here? fpeak, ho.
What is this?

No answer?

Timon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his fpan; -
Some beaft rear'd this; here does not live a man. (40)
Dead, fure, and this his grave; what's on this tomb?
I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax;

Our Captain hath in every figure skill,
An ag'd interpreter, tho' young in days:
Before proud Athens he's fet down by this,
Whofe Fall the mark of his ambition is.

Alc.

SCENE, before the Walls of Athens.

[Exit.

Trumpets found. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers.

Ound to this coward and lascivious town

Our terrible Approach.

[Sound a parley. The Senators appear upon the walls. 'Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time With all licentious measure, making your wills The fcope of juftice. 'Till now my self, and fuch As flept within the fhadow of your Power, Have wander'd with our traverst arms, and breath'd Our fufferance vainly. Now the time is flush, When crouching marrow in the bearer strong Cries, of itself, no more: now breathless wrong Shall fit and pant in your great Chairs of ease,

(40) Some Beaft read this: here does not live a Man.] Some Beaft read what? The Soldier had yet only feen the rude Pile of Earth heap'd up for Timon's Grave, and not the Infcription upon it. My Friend Mr. Warburton ingeniously advis'd me to amend the Text, as I have done; and a Paffage occurs to me, (from Beaumont and Fletcher's CUPID's Revenge) that seems very strong in Support of his Conjecture:

Comfort was never here;

Here is no Food, nor Beds; nor any House

Built by a better Architect than Beasts.

The Soldier, seeking by Order for Timon, fees fuch an irregular Mole, as he concludes must have been the Workmanship of fome Beast inhabiting the Woods; and fuch a Cavity, as either must have been fo over-arch'd, or happen'd by the casual Falling in of the Ground. This latter Species of Caverns, produced by Nature, Æfchylus, I remember, in his Prometheus, elegantly calls autókler avTea, felf-built Dens.

And