Timan. Hang thee, monfter! Tim. Pardon him, fweet Timandra, for his wits Are drowned and loft in his calamities. I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, Alc. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. Alc. Why, fare thee well, Here's gold for thee. Tim. Keep it, I cannot eat it. Alc. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap--Tim. Warreft thou 'gainst Athens ? very man himself was macerated." And as for the unction, it was fometimes continued for thirty-feven days, (as he obferves, p. 375.) and during this time there was ne ceffarily an extraordinary abstinence required: Mr. Warburton. Shakespeare himself, I remember, in another of his plays, alludes to the custom of this tub-discipline. Mea. for Mea.. act third, where the clown is fpeaking of the bawd;: Troth, Sir, fhe hath caten up all her beef, and she is herfelf in the tub.. And Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Knight of the burning Peftel; Prifoners of mine, who I in diet keep; f Send lower down into the cave, And in a tub, that's heated fmoaking hot, There may they find them, &c. And afterwards, in the fame play, fome of these pined prifoners are produced, complaining of their tub-fweat, and jpare dict. But enough of these unfavoury proofs. Alc. Ay, Timon, and have cause. Tim. The gods confound them all then in thy And after thee, when thou haft conquered! [conqueft, Alc. Why me, Timon? Tim. That by killing of villains Thou waft born to conquer my country. Will o'er fome high-viced city hang his poison...... Herfelf's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek [eyes, am (25) That through the window-barn-bore at mens eyes,] I cannot for my heart imagine what idea our wife editors had. of a virgin's breaft through a window-barn; which, fatisfied, must be a corrupt reading. In fhort, the Poet is alluding to the decent cuftom in his time of the women covering their necks and bofom either with lawn or cyprus both which being transparent, the Poct beautifully, calls it the window lawn. Vid. Twelfthnight, act third;, -to one of your receiving Enough is fhewn; a cyprus, not a bofom, Beaumont and Fletcher, in their Scornful Lady; Lady. Pray, put in good words then. El. Love. The worst are good enough for such a triflë, fuch a proud piece of cobweb-lawn. Ben Johnson, in his Sejanus, Spoken by Agrippina; Were all Tiberius' body ftuck with eyes, And every wall and hanging in my house And in his Every Man out of his Humour; thine -She speaks, as flie goes tired, in cobweb-lawn, light Set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe' Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat fhall cut, I'll take the gold thou giveft me, not thy counsel. Tim. Doft thou, or dost thou not, Heaven's curfe upon thee ! Both. Give us fome gold, good Timon: haft thou more? Tim. Enough to make a whore forfwear her trade, And to make whole a bawd, (26) Hold up, you fluts, Your aprons mountant; you're not oathable, Although, I know, you'll fwear; terribly, fwear, Into strong fhudders, and to heavenly agues, Th'immortal gods that hear you. Spare your oaths: And in his Every Man in his Humour; -and hadow her glory as a milliner's wife does her wrought fłomacher with a smoaky lawn, or a black cypras. (26) And to make a whore a bawd.] The power of gold, indeed, may be fuppofed great, that can make a whore forfake her trade; but what mighty difficulty was there in making a wh re turn bawd? And yet 'tis plain, here he is defcribing the mighty power of gold. He had before fhewn how gold can perfuade to any villainy; he now fhews that it has till a greater force, and can even turn from vice to the prac tice, or at least the femblance of virtue. We must therefore read, to restore fenfe to our Author; And to make whole a bawd .e. not only make her quit her calling, but thereby restore her to reputation. Mr Warburton. I'll trust to your conditions, be whores still. Both. Well, more gold---what then? In hollow bones of man, ftrike their fharp fhins, And mar mens fpurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, That he may never more false title plead, Nor found his quillets fhrilly. Hoar the Flamen, That fcolds against the quality of flesh, And not believes himself. Down with the nose, Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away Of him, that his particular to forefee [ruffians bald, Smells from the general weal. Make curled-pate And let the unfcarred braggarts of the war Derive fome-pain from you. Plague all; That your activity may defeat and quell -The fource of all erection.-There's more gold. Do you damn others, and let this damn you, And ditches grave you all! Both. More counfel with more money, bounteous Timon. Tim. More whore, more mischief, firft; I've given you earnest. Aic. Strike up the drum towards Athens; fareIf I thrive well, I'll vifit thee again. [wel, Timon: Tim. If I hope well, I'll never fee thee more. Alc. I never did thee harm. Fim. Yes, thou spokest well of me. Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee hence, away, And take thy beagles with thee. Alc. We but offend him: ftrike. [Exeunt Alcibiad. Phryn. and Timand. Tim. That nature, being fick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry! common mother, thou Whofe womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast Teems and feeds all! oh thou! whofe felf-fame metal (Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft) Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, The gilded newt, and eyelefs venomed worm, With all the abhorred births below crifp heaven, Whereon Hyperion's quickning fire doth fhine; Yield him, who all thy human fons does hate, From forth thy plenteous bofom, one poor root! Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb; Let it no more bring out ungrateful man. Go great with tygers, dragons, wolves and bears. Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled manfion all above Never prefented----O, a root---dear thanks! (27) Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas, Whereof ungrateful man with liquorish draughts, And morfels unctious, greafes his pure mind, That from it all confideration flips.--- (27) Dry up t'y marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas.] Mr Warburton thinks, the uniformity of the metaphor requires that we fhould read; Dry up thy harrowed veins, and plough-torn leas. 'Tis certain the verfe is rendered much more beautiful by this reading; but as unious morfels following, by mar rows the Poet might mean what we call fat of the land, I havs not ventured to infert the conjecture into the text. |