Methinks, thou art more honeft now, than wife; Thou might'ft have fooner got another service: If not a ufuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one? Flav. No, my moft worthy mafter, in whose breaft That which I fhew, heaven knows, is merely love, For any benefit that points to me Either in hope or prefent, I'd exchange it For this one wifh, that you had power and wealth To requite me by making rich yourself. Tim. Look thee, 'tis fo!-Thou fingly honeft man, Here, take. The Gods out of my mifery Have fent thee treafure. Go, live rich and happy," But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, What thou deny❜ft to men; let Give to dogs their falfe bloods! JOHNSON. 3-from men ;] Away from human habitations. *Debts wither them.] Debts wither them to nothing.-Folio. JOHNS. I have replaced the reading of the folio. STEEVENS. And And fo farewell, and thrive. Flav. O, let me stay, and comfort you, my master: Stay not; but fly, whilft thou art bleft and free: Pain. As I took note of the place, it can't be far where he abides. Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is fo full of gold? Pain. Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him : he likewife enrich'd poor ftraggling foldiers with great quantity. 'Tis faid, he gave his fteward a mighty fum. Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends? Pain. Nothing elfe: you fhall fee him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. There 5 Enter Poet and Painter.] The poet and the painter were with in view when Apemantus parted from Timon, and might then have seen Timon, fince Apemantus, ftanding by him could not fee them: But the fcenes of the thieves and steward have passed before their arrival, and yet paffed, as the drama is now conducted within their view. It might be suspected that some scenes are tranfpofed, for all these difficulties would be removed by introducing the poet and painter firft, and the thieves in this place. Yet I am afraid the fcenes muft keep their prefent order; for the painter alludes to the thieves when he says, he likewise enriched poor fraggling foldiers with great quantity. This impropriety is now heightened by placing the thieves in one act, and the poet and painter in another: but it must be remembered, that in the original edition this play is not divided into separate acts, so that the prefent diftribution is arbitrary, and may be changed if any convenience can be gained, or impropriety obviated by alteration. JOHNSON. fore, fore, 'tis not amifs, we tender our loves to him, in this fuppos'd diftrefs of his; it will fhew honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a juft and true report that goes of his having. Poet. What have you now to present unto him? Pain. Nothing at this time but my vifitation: only I will promife him an excellent piece. Poet. I must serve him fo too; tell him of an intent that's coming toward him. 4 Pain. Good as the best. Promifing is the very air o' the time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and fimpler kind of people, the deed is quite out of use. To promife is moft courtly and fashionable performance is a kind of will or teftament, which argues a great fickness in his judgment that makes it. Re-enter Timon from his cave, unseen. Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man fo bad as thyself. Poet. I am thinking what I fhall fay I have provided for him. It must be a perfonating of himself: a satire against the softness of profperity, with a difcovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency, Tim. Muft thou needs ftand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do fo, I have gold for thee. Poet. Nay, let's seek him. 4 the deed is] In the old edition, the deed of faying is quite out of use. JOHNSON. It must be a perfonating of himself:] Perfonating, for reprefenting fimply. For the fubject of this projected fatire was Timon's cafe, not his perfon. WARBURTON. Then Then do we fin against our own estate, When we may profit meet, and come too late. "While the day ferves, before black-corner'd night, Find what thou want'ft, by free and offer'd light. Come. Tim. I'll meet you at the turn, gold, What a God's That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple, Than where fwine feed! 'Tis thou that rigg'ft the bark, and plow'ft the foam, Settleft admired reverence in a flave. To thee be worship! and thy faints for aye Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 'Tis fit I meet them. Poet. Hail! worthy Timon. Pain. Our late noble mafter. Tim. Have I once liv'd to fee two honest men? Poet. Sir, having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, Whofe thankless natures, (oh abhorred fpirits!) Not all the whips of heaven are large enough While the day ferves, before black-corner'd night,] We should read, black cornette night. A cornette is a woman's head-drefs for the night. So in another WARBURTON. place he calls her black-brow'd night. Black-corner'd night is probably corrupt, but black-cornette can hardly be right, for it should be black-cornetted night. I cannot propofe any thing, but must leave the place in its present states JOHNSON. An anonymous correfpondent fent me this obfervation. “ As "the fhadow of the earth's body, which is round, must be necef"farily conical over the hemifphere which is oppofite to the fun, "should we not read black-coned? See Parad. Inft, Book IV.” I believe, nevertheless, that Shakespeare, by this expreffion, meant only, Night which is as obfcure as a dark corner. In Measure for Meafure, Lucio calls the Duke, a duke of dark-corners. What! What! to you! Whose star-like noblenefs gave life and influence To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any fize of words. Tim. Let it go naked, men may fee't the better: You that are honeft, by being what you are, Make them best seen, and known. Pain. He, and myself, Have travell'd in the And sweetly felt it. great shower of your gifts, Tim. Ay, you are honest men. Pain. We are hither come to offer you our fervice. Tim, Moft honeft men! Why, how fhall I requite you? Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you fervice. Tim. You are honeft men. You have heard, that I have gold; I am fure, you have. Speak truth; you are honest men. Pain. So it is faid, my noble lord; but therefore Came not my friend, nor I. Tim. Good honeft men: thou draw'ft a counterfeit Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best; Thou counterfeit'ft most lively. Pain. So, fo, my lord. Tim. Even fo, fir, as I fay :-And for thy fiction, [To the Poet. Why, thy verse fwells with stuff fo fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art.— ? Let it go naked, men may fee't the better:] The humour of this reply is incomparable. It infinuates not only the higheft contempt of the flatterer in particular, but this ufeful leffon in general, that the images of things are cleareft feen through a fimplicity of phrafe; of which, in the words of the precept, and in those which occafion'd it, he has given us examples. WARBURTON, Cc VOL. VIII. But, |