purchase the day before for a little (17) dirt, and undo a great deal of honour? Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do--(the more beaft, I fay)-I was fending to ufe Lord Timon myfelf, thefe gentlemen can witnefs; but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had don't now. Commend me bountifully to his good Lordship, and, I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, that I cannot pleafure fuch an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me fo far, as to use my own words to him? Ser. Yes, Sir, I fhall. [Exit Servilius. Luc. I'll look ye out a good turn, ServiliusTrue, as you faid, Timon is fhrunk, indeed; And he, that's once deny'd, will hardly speed. [Exit. 1 Stran. Do you obferve this, Hoftilius? 2 Stran. Ay, too well. 1 Stran. Why, this is the world's foul; (17) That I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour ?] Tho' there is a feeming plaufible Antithefis, in the terms, I am very well affur'd, they are corrupt at the bottom. For a little part of what? honour is the only fubftantive that follows in the fentence; but men don't purchase for honour, tho' fometimes they may turn purchafers out of oftenftation. How much is the Antithefis improv'd by the fenfe which my emendation gives?" That I "fhould be fo unlucky to make this purchase, for the lucre of a little "dirt, and undo a great deal of honour!" This manner of expreffing contemptuously of land, is very frequent with the Poets. So Hamlet, A&t 5, fpeaking of Ofrick, -he hath much land and fertile;---'tis a chough; but, as I say, fpacious in the poffeffion of dirt. So Beaumont and Fletcher in the Scornful Lady, A& 1. -your brother's houfe is big enough; and, to fay truth, he has too much land; hang it, dirt. And again, in the 2d Act; -noble boy, the god of gold here has fee'd thee well; take money for thy dirt. And the Elder Brother, A&t 3d. Had y' only fhew'd me land, I had deliver'd it, And been a proud man to have parted with it: 'Tis dirt and labour. More authorities would be fuperfluous. Of Of the fame piece is every flatterer's fpirit: (18) That dips in the fame dish? for, in my knowing Timon has been to this Lord as a father, And kept his credit with his bounteous purse: And yet, oh, fee the monftrousness of man, 1 Stran. For mine own part, I never tafted Timon in my life; Nor any of his bounties came o'er me, Had his neceffity made ufe of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, Enter a third Servant with Sempronius. [Exeunt Sem. Muft he needs trouble me in't? 'bove all others?- He might have tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus, And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeem'd from prifon: All these three Ser. Oh, my Lord, They've all been touch'd, and all are found bafe metal; For they have all deny'd him. Sem. How? deny'd him? Ventidius and Lucullus both deny'd him ? And does he fend to me? three! hum (18) Is every flatterer's fport.] This fenfelefs corruption has hitherto run through all the editions; and, as I fuppofe, without fufpicion. It fhews but little love or judgment in him. And does he think fo backwardly of me, So it may prove an argument of laughter To th' reft, and 'mong ft Lords I be thought a fool: And with their faint reply this anfwer join; Ser. Excellent! your Lordship's a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick; he crofs'd himfelf by't; and I cannot think, but in the end the villanies of man will fet him clear. How fairly this Lord ftrives to appear foul? takes virtuous copies to be wicked: like those that under hot, ardent, zeal would fet whole realms on fire. Of fuch a nature is his politick love. This was my Lord's beft hope; now all are fled, Save the gods only. Now his friends are dead; Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards (19) -his friends, like phyficians Thriv'd, give him over?] I have reftor'd this old reading, only amended the pointing which was faulty. Mr. Pope, suspecting the phrafe, has fubftituted three in the room of thriv'd, and fo difarm'd the poet's fatire. Phyficians thriv'd is no more than phyficians grown rich: Only the adjective paffive of this verb, indeed, is not fo common in ufe; and yet it is a familiar expreffion, to this day, to fay, fuch a one is well thriven on his trade. This very farcafm of our author is made ufe of by Webfter a contemporary poet in his Dutchess of Malfy, the cloathing only a little varied, - Phyficians thus, Many Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd Now to guard fure their mafter. And this is all a liberal courfe allows; Who cannot keep his wealth, muft keep his house. [Exit. SCENE changes to Timon's Hall. Enter Varro, Titus, Hortenfius, Lucius, and other Servants of Timon's Creditors, who wait for his coming out. Var. WE Ell met, good-morrow, Titus and Hortenfius. Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. Hor. Lucius, why do we meet together? Luc. I think, one bufinefs does command us all. For mine is money. Tit. So is theirs and ours. Enter Philotas. Luc. And, Sir, Philotas's too. Phi. Good day, at once. Luc. Welcome, good brother. What d'you think the hour? Phi. Labouring for nine. Luc. So much? Phi. Is not my Lord feen yet? Luc. Not yet. Phi. I wonder: he was wont to fine at feven. Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him : You must confider that a prodigal's courfe Is like the fun's, but not like his recoverable, I fear: "Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purfe; That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet Find little. Phi. I am of your fear for that. Tit. I'll fhew you how t' obferve a ftrange event: Your Lord fends now for money. Hor. True, he does. Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, For which I wait for money. Hor. Against my heart. Luc. How ftrange it shows, Timon in this fhould pay more than he owes! Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness: I know, my Lord hath fpent of Timon's wealth, Ingratitude now makes it worse than stealth. Var. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours? Var. 'Tis too much deep, and it should seem by th' fum, Enter Flaminius. Tit. One of Lord Timon's men. Luc. Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, Ready to come forth? Flam. No, indeed, he is not. is my Lord Tit. We attend his Lordship; pray, fignify fo much. Flam. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent. He Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled. Luc. Ha! is not that his fteward muffled fo? goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. Tit. Do you hear, Sir Var. By your leave, Sir. Fla. What do you ask of me, my friend? Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills, Believe't, my Lord and I have made an end, Fla. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not fo bafe as you; For |