The Mounds into falt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture ftoln
From gen'ral excrements: each thing's a thief.

The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not your felves, away,
Rob one another, there's more gold; cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
Break open fhops, for nothing can you steal

But thieves do lose it: fteal not lefs for what

I give, and gold confound you howfoever! Amen. [Exit. 3 Thief. H'as almoft charm'd me from my profeffion, by perfuading me to it.

1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy; and give over my trade.

1 Thief. Let us firft fee peace in Athens; (27)

2 Thief. There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt.

A C T · V.

SCENE, The Woods, and Timon's Cave.

Enter

OH, you Gods!

FLAVIUS.

FLAVIU S.

Is yon defpis'd and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? oh, monument And wonder of good deeds, evilly bestow'd!

What

Mounds: and I am ftill the more confirm'd, becaufe Mr. Warburton, who did not know I had touch'd the Place, fent me up the very fame Correction.

(27) Thief. Let us first fee Peace in Athens; &c.] This and the concluding little Speech have in all the Editions been

H 3

placed:

What change of honour defp'rate want has made
What viler thing upon the earth, than friends,
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends?
How rarely does it meet with this time's guife,
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 mafter !

Timon comes forward from his Cave.

Tim. Away! what art thou?

Fla. Have you forgot me, Sir?

Tim. Why doft thou ask That? I have forgot all men. Then, if thou grantest that thou art a man,

I have forgot thee.

Fla. An honeft fervant,

Tim. Then I know thee not:

I ne'er had honest man about me, all

I kept were knaves, to ferve in meat to villains.
Fla. The Gods are witness,

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 disclaim'st

Flinty mankind; whofe eyes do never give

But or through luft, or laughter. Pity's fleeping; Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

Fla. 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

placed to one Speaker: But, as Mr. Warburton very juftly ob ferv'd to me, 'tis evident, the latter Words ought to be put in the Mouth of the firft Thief, who is repenting, and leaving off his Trade.

So

So true, fo juft, and now so comfortable ?
It almoft turns my dangerous nature wild.
Let me behold thy face: furely, this man
Was born of woman.

Forgive my gen'ral and exceptlefs rashness,
Perpetual, fober Gods! I do proclaim
One honest man: miftake 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 thy felf: but all, fave 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 masters,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true,
(For I muft ever doubt, though ne'er fo fure)
Is not thy kindness fubtle, covetous,

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

Fla. No, my most worthy master, (in whose breaft 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 estate is least.

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,
For any benefit that points to me
Either in hope, or prefent, I'd exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me by making rich your felf.

Tim. Look thee, 'tis fo; thou fingly honeft man,
Here, take; the Gods out of my misery

Have fent thee treafure. Go, live rich and happy;
But thus condition'd; Thou fhalt 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'st to men. Let prifons fwallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em; be men like blasted woods,

And

And may diseases lick up their falfe bloods!

And fo farewel, and thrive.

Fla. O, let me ftay, and comfort you, my Mafter.
Tim. If thou hat'ft curses,

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

[Exeunt feverally.

Enter Poet and Painter.

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's fo full of gold?

Pain. Certain. Alcibiades reports it: Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him he likewife enrich'd poor ftragling foldiers with great quantity. 'Tis faid, he gave his fteward a mighty fum.

Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a tryal 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 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 visitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece.

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

Pain. Good as the best: 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, the deed is quite out of ufe. 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

Re-enter Timon from his Cave, unfeen.

Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a man fo bad as thy felf.

Poet. I am thinking, what I fhall fay I have provided for him it must be a perfonating of himself; a fatyr against the softness of profperity, with a discovery 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 feek him,

Then do we fin against our own estate,

When we may Profit meet, and come too late.

Pain. True:

Poet. While the day ferves, before black-corner'd night, (28)

Find what thou want'ft, by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim. I'll meet you at the turn

What a God's gold, that he is worshipped

In bafer temples, than where Swine do feed!

'Tis thou that rigg'ft the bark, and plow'st the Wave, (29). Settleft admired rev'rence 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 honeft men ?

(28) While the day ferves, &c.] This Couplet in all the Editions is placed to the Painter, but as it is in Rhyme, and a Sequel of the Sentiment begun by the Poet, I have made no Scruple to afcribe

it to him.

(29) 'Tis thou that riggft the Bark, and plow'ft the Foam,

Settleft admired Rev'rence in a Slave ;] As both the Couplet preceding, and following this, are in Rhyme, I am very apt to fufpect, the Rhyme is difmounted here by an accidental Corruption; and therefore have ventur'd to replace Wave in the Room of Foam.