What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring nobleft minds to basest ends;
* How rarely does it meet with this time's guife,
5 When man was wifht to love his enemies:
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo
Thofe that would mifchief me, than thofe that do!
H'as caught me in his eye; I will present
My honest grief to him; and, as my Lord,
Still ferve him with my life.-My dearest master!

4 How rarely does it meet-] cond line, to alter woo to do. Rarely, for fitly; not for feldom.

WARBURTON.

5 When man was WISHT-] We fhould read WILL'D. He forgets his pagan fyftem here again.

WARBURTON.

6 Grant, I may ever love, and
rather woo
Thofe that would mischief me,
than thofe that Do!] But
why fo? Was there ever fuch an
afs, I mean, as the tranfcriber?
Shakespeare wrote it,

Grant, I may ever love, and
rather Too
Thofe that would mischief me,

than those that woo!
The Steward, affected with his
mafter's misfortunes and medi-
tating on the cause of it, fays,
What an excellent precept is that
of loving our enemies; grant
that I may love them to chufe,
rather than flatterers. All here
is fenfible, and to the purpofe,
and makes the whole coherent.
But when once the tranfcribers
had blundered too to woo in the
firft line, they were obliged, in
their own defence, in the fe-

WARBURTON. In defiance of this criticism I have ventured to replace the former reading, as more fuitable to the general fpirit of these scenes, and as free from the abfurdities charged upon it. It is plain that in this whole fpeech friends and enemies are taken only for thofe who profefs friendship and profefs enmity; for the friend is fuppofed not to be more kind but more dangerous than the ent my.

In the emendation those that would mifchief are placed in oppofition to thofe that woo, but in the fpeaker's intention theft that woo are those that mischief moft. The fenfe is, Let me rather woo or carefs those that would mischief, that profess to mean me mischief, than those that really da me mischiefs under false profeffions of kindness. The Spaniards, I think, have this proverb; Defend me from my friends, and from mj enemies I will defend myself. This proverb is a fufficient comment on the paffage.

line, to alter woo to do.

WARB.

In defiance of this dogmatical criticifm I have ventured to replace the former ding, as more fuitable to the general fpirit of thefe fcenes, and as free from the abfurdities charged upon it. It is plain

Timon

Timon comes forward from his Cave.

Tim Away! what art thou?

Flav. Have you forgot me, Sir?

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

I have forgot thee.

Fly. An honeft poor fervant of yours.

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.
Flav. The Gods are witnefs,

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 difclaim'ft

Flinty mankind; whofe eyes do never give

But thorough luft and 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, whilft this poor wealth lafts, To entertain me as your fteward ftill.

Tim. Had I a steward

So true, fo juft, and now fo comfortable?
*It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.

Knave is here in the compounded fenfe of a fervant and a rafial.

Pity's fleeping;) I do not know that any correction is neceffary, but I think we might read,

eyes do never give But thorough luft and laughter, pity fleeping.

-Let

weather) but by luft or laughter, undisturbed by emotions of pity. 8 It almoft turns my dangerous

nature WILD] i. e. It almoft turns my dangerous nature to a dangerous nature; for, by dangerous nature, is meant wildnefs. Shakespear wrote,

It almoft turns my dangerous

nature MILD.

Eyes never flow (to give is to difi. e. It almoft reconciles me again folve as faline bodies in moist to mankind. For fear of that,

-Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my gen'ral and exceptlefs rashness,
Perpetual, fober Gods! I do proclaim
One honeft 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, save thee,
I fell with curfes.

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

Thou might'ft have fooner got another service;
For many fo arrive at fecond mafters,
Upon their first Lord's neck. But tell me true,
For I must ever doubt, tho' ne'er so sure,
Is not thy kindnefs fubtle, covetous,

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

Flav. No, my most worthy mafter, in whose breast
Doubt and Sufpect, alas, are plac'd too late.
You should have fear'd falfe times, when you did feast;
Sufpect ftill comes, where an eftate is leaft.
That which I fhew, heav'n knows, is meerly love,
Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living: and, believe it,
My most honour'd Lord,

For any benefit that points to me

Either in hope, or prefent, I'd exchange
For this one wifh, that you had power and wealth

he puts in a caution immediately
after, that he makes an excep-

tion but for one man. To which the Oxford Editor fays, rectè.

WARBURTON. This emendation is fpecious, But even this may be controverted. To turn wild is to diftract. An appearance fo unexpected, fays Timon, almoft turns my favageness to distraction. Accord

ingly he examines with nicety left his phrenzy should deceive

him.

Let me beheld thy face. Surely

this man

Was born of woman. And to this fufpcted diforder of mind he alludes,

Perpetual, fober, Gods!Ye powers whofe intellects are out of the reach of perturbation.

To

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 thus condition'd; Thou shalt build from men,
Hate all, curfe all, fhew charity to none,

But let the famifht flesh flide from the bone,
Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs
What thou deny'ft to men; let prifons fwallow 'em,
'Debts wither 'em. Be men like blafted woods,
And may difeafes lick up their falfe bloods.

And fo farewel, and thrive.

Flav. O, let me ftay, and comfort you, my Mafter.
Tim. If thou hat'ft curfes,"

Stay not, but fly, whilft thou art bleft and free;
Ne'er fee thou man, and let me ne'er fee thee.

[Exeunt feverally.

SCENE II.

2 Enter Poet and Painter.

Pain. As I took note of the place, it can't be far where he abides.

9 from men.] Away from human habitations.

1 Debts wither] Debts wither them to nothing. Folio.

2 Enter Poet and Painter.] The poet and the painter were within view when Apemantus parted from Timon, and might then have feen Timon, fince Apemantus, standing by him, could fee them: But the fcenes of the thieves and the feward have pafs'd before their arrival, and yet paffed, as the drama is now conducted, within their view. It might be

Poet.

suspected that fome scenes are tranfpofed, for all thefe difficulties would be removed by introducing the poet and painter firft, and the thieves in this place. Yet I am afraid the fcenes must keep their prefent order; for the painter alludes to the thieves, when he fays, he likewife enriched poor ftraggling foldiers with great quantity. This impropriety is now heighten'd by placing the thieves in one act, and the poet and painter in another: but it must be remembered, that

in

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 Timand a had gold of him; he likewife enrich'd poor ftraggling foldiers with great quantity. 'Tis faid, he gave his steward a mighty fum.

Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a trial of his friends?

Pain. Nothing elfe; you fhall fee him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the higheft. Therefore, 'tis not amifs, we tender our loves to him, in this fuppos'd diftrefs of his: it will fhew honeftly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his Having.

Poet. What have you now to prefent unto him? Pain. Nothing at this time but my vifitation; only I will promife him an excellent piece.

Poet. I muft ferve him fo too; tell him of an intent that's coming toward him.

3

Pain. Good as the beft. Promifing is the very air o' th' 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, 3 the deed is quite out of ufe. To promife, is most courtly, and fashion. able; 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.

in the original edition this play is not divided into feparate acts, fo that the prefent diftribution is arbitrary, and may be changed if any convenience can be gain

ed, or impropriety obviated by alteration.

3 the deed is] In the old edi tion, the deed of faying is quite out of use.

Poet.