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against such a good time, when I might ha' shewn myself honourable. How unlucky it happen'd, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour? Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do-(the more beast I say,) - I was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; but I would not for the wealth of Athens, I had done'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 aillictions, fay, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use my own words to him? Ser. Yes, Sir, I shall.
[Exit Servilius. Lui. I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius, True, as you faid, Timon is Thrunk indeed; And he that's once deny'd will hardly speed. [Exit.
SCENE VI. Against Duelling.
(3) And make, &c.] The first part of the sentence is cx plained by the latter, " He's truly valiant, &c. that can make his wrongs his outsides, i. c. wear them like his raiment care. lely.
Without the Walls of Athens.
Timon's Execrations on the Athenians.
Let me look back upon thee, O, thou wall, That girdleft in those wolves ! dive in the earth, And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incontinent; Obedience fail in children; flaves and fools Pluck the grave wrinkled fenate from the bench, And minister in their steads : to general filths Convert o'th’initant green virginity! Do't in your parents' eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters' throats. Bound servants, steali Large-handed robbers your grave
confusion live! Plagues, incident to men,
Be merely poison. Nothing I'll bear from thee,
SCENE II. A Friend forsaken.
Als we do turn our backs. From our companion, thrown into his
grave, So his familiars from his buried fortunes Slink all-away ; leave their false vows with him. Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor felf, (4) A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-sun'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone.
(5) What is here? Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold?
(4) A dedicated, &c.] In Romeo and Juliet, at the beginning, he speaks pretiily of a bud bit by an envious warm,
Ere he can spread his sweet wings to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. In the next line, the author seems to have had his eye on that: trite and well-known line of Ovid's;
Nullus ad anisas ibit amicus opes.. (5) What is, &c.] See page 30, of this volumo. Ben Joro. fon, in his Volpone, ipeaking of gold, says,
Thou art virtue, fame,
He shall be noble, valiant, honest, wise-
Act. 1. Sc. I. Which lines are an exact tranlation of the following froin Hg..
Omnis enim res
(6) No, gods, I am no idle votarist.
Clarus erit fortis, juftus, sapicns ; etiam & rex
L. 2. S. 3. I leave the learned Reader to judge, which of the two, this clailical bard, or our illiterate one, with his sniall Latin and Greek, have best-exprest the spirit and meaning of Horace.
(6) No, &c.] This is well explained, Mr. Warburton observes, by the following lines of Perfus-Sat. 2. V. 10.
Et o fi
Of some valt treasure hidden under ground. (7) Waped, ] i. e. forrowful, mournful. Ben Fonfon, in the 5th act of the same play we mentioned but now, observes,
That gold transforms
As 'twere the strange poetical girdle. The old fellow is here again at his books, as. if, the flightest remark were not to proceed from his own brain, but to be midwiv'd by him into the world from the classics. Lucia, in his Gallus, says, O Fascowv, &c. You see what mighty advantages goid produces, since it transforms the most deferm.d, just as it were that famous poetical girdle.
She, whom the spittle-house and ulcerous fores
SCENE IV. Timon to Alcibiades.
Go on, here's gold, go on ; Be as a planetary plague, when yove Will o'er fome high-vic'd city hang his poison In the fick air : ler not thy sword skip one: Pity not honour'd age for his white beard ; He is an usurer. Strike me the matron, It is her habit only that is honest, Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek Make foft thy trenchant sword: for those milk paps, That through the window-lawn bore at mens' eyes, Are not within the leaf of pity writ; Set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools extort (8) their
mercy : Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects, Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes; Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor fight of priest in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy foldiers. Make large confufion; and thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
To the Courtezans.
(8) Extort Oxford editor, vulg. exhaul.