1 Stran. Do you obferve this, Hoftilius? 2 Stran. Ay, too well.

1 Stran. Why, this is the world's foul;
Of the fame piece is every flatterer's fpirit: (13)
Who can call him his friend,

That dips in the fame difh; for, in my knowing,
Timon has been to this Lord as a father,
And kept his credit with his bounteous purse:
Supported his eftate; nay, Timon's money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne'er drinks,
But Timon's Silver treads upon his lip;
And yet, oh, fee the monftroufnefs of man,
When he looks out in an ungrateful fhape!
He does deny him (in refpect of his)
What charitable men afford to beggars.
3 Stran. Religion groans at it.
1 Stran. For mine own part,
I never tafted Timon in my life;
Nor any of his bounties came o'er mè,
To mark me for his friend. Yet, I proteft,
For his right noble mind, illuftrious virtue,
And honourable carriage,

Had his neceffity made ufe of me,

I would have put my wealth into donation,
And the best half fhould have return'd to him,
So much I love his heart; but, I perceive,
Men must learn now with pity to dispense,
For policy fits above confcience,

Enter a third Servant with Sempronius.

[Exeunt.

Sem. Muft he needs trouble me in't? above 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
Owe their eftates unto him.

Serv. Oh, my Lord,

They've all been touch'd, and all are found bafe metal;

(13) Is every Flatterer's Sport.] This Senfelefs Corruption has run through all the Editions; and, as I suppose, without Suspicion.

For

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

It fhews but little love or judgment in him.
Muft I be his last refuge? his friends, like phyficians, (14)
Thriv'd, give him over? muft I take the cure
On me? h'as much difgrac'd me in't; I'm angry.
He might have known my Place; I fee no fenfe for't,
But his occafions might have wooed me firft:

For, in my confcience, I was the first man
That e'er receiv'd gift from him.

And does he think fo backwardly of me,
That I'll requite it last? no:

So it may prove an argument of laughter

To th' reft, and 'mongft Lords I be thought a fool:
I'd rather than the worth of thrice the fum,
H'ad fent to me first, but for my mind's fake :·
I'd fuch a courage to have done him good.

But now teturn,

And with their faint Reply this Answer join;
Who 'bates mine honour, fhall not know my coin. [Exit.

Serv. Excellent! your Lordship's a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick; he crofs'd himself by't; and I cannot think, but in the end the villainies of man will fet him clear. How fairly this Lord ftrives to appear foul? takes virtuous copies to be wicked like thofe that under hot, ardent, zeal would fet whole Realms on fire. Of such a nature is his politick love.

This was my Lord's

best hope; now all are fled, Save the Gods only. Now his friends are dead;

(14) bis Friends like Physicians Thriv'd, give him over?] I have reftor'd this old Reading, only amended the Pointing which was faulty. Mr. Pope, fufpecting the Phrafe, has Subftituted Three in the room of thriv'd, and fo dif arm'd the Poet's Satire. 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 is it a familiar Expreffion, to this day, to fay, Such a one is well thriven on bis Trade,

Doors,

Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
Many a bounteous year, muft 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 fervants of Timon's creditors, who wait for his coming out. Ell met, good-morrow, Titus and Hortenfius.

Var.

Well T. The like to you, kind Varro.

Tit.

Hor. Lucius, why do we meet together?

Luc. I think, one business does command us all. For mine is money.

Tit. So is theirs, and ours.

Enter Philo.

Luc. And Sir Philo's too.

Phi. Good day, at once.

Luc. Welcome, good brother. What d'you think the hour?

Phi. I wonder he was wont to fhine at feven.

Luc. Ay, but the days are waxed fhorter with him:

You must confider that a Prodigal's course

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.

Luc. How ftrange it shows,

Timon in this should pay more than he owes !

And e'en as if your Lord should wear rich jewels,
And fend for money for 'em.

Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the Gods can witness: I know, my Lord hath spent of Timon's wealth; Ingratitude now makes it worse than stealth.

Var. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours? Luc. Five thousand.

Var. 'Tis too much deep, and it should seem by th' fum, Your master's confidence was above mine; Elfe, furely, his had equall'd.

Enter Flaminius.

Tit. One of Lord Timon's men.

Luc. Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my Lord Ready to come forth?

Flam. No, indeed, he is not.

Tit. We attend his Lordship; pray, fignify so much. Flam. I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent.

Enter Flavius in a cloak, muffled.

Luc. Ha! is not that his Steward muffled fo? He goes away in a cloud call him, call him. Tit. Do you hear, Sir

:

Var. By your leave, Sir.

Flav. What do you ask of me, my friend?
Tit. We wait for certain money here, Sir.

Flav. If money were as certain as your waiting, "Twere fure enough.

Why then preferr'd you not your fums and bills,
When your false masters eat of my Lord's meat?
Then they would fmile and fawn upon his debts,
And take down th' intereft in their glutt'nous maws;
You do yourselves but wrong to ftir me up,
Let me pafs quietly:

Believ't, my Lord and I have made an end ;
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
Luc. Ay, but this answer will not ferve.

Flar.

Flav. If 'twill not ferve, 'tis not so base as you ; For you ferve knaves.

poor,

[Exit. Var. How! what does his cashier'd worship mutter ? Tit. No matter, what-he's and that's revenge enough. Who can fpeak broader than he that has no houfe to put his head in? fuch may rail against great buildings.

Enter Servilius.

Tit. Oh, here's Servilius; now we shall have fome anfwer.

Ser. If I might befeech you gentlemen, to repair fome other hour, I fhould derive much from it. For take it of my foul,

My Lord leans wond'roufly to discontent:

His comfortable temper has forfook him,

He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
Luc. Many do keep their chambers, are not fick :
And if he be fo far beyond his health,
Methinks, he fhould the fooner pay his debts,
And make a clear way to the Gods.

Ser. Good Gods!

Tit. We cannot take this for an anfwer.

Flam. [within.] Servilius, help-my Lord! my Lord. Enter Timon, in a rage.

Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd againft my paffage ? Have I been ever free, and must my house

Be my retentive enemy, my goal?

The place, which I have feafted, does it now,
Like all mankind, fhew me an iron-heart?

Luc. Put in now, Titus.

Tit. My Lord, here's my

Luc. Here's mine.

Var. And mine, my Lord.

Cap. And ours, my Lord.

Phi. And our bills.

bill.

Tim. Knock me down with 'em-cleave me to the