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fides :

(6) No, gods, I am no idle votarist.
Roots, you clear heavens! thus much of this will make
Black, white; foul, fair; wrong, right;
Bafe, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.
You gods! why this? what this ? you gods! why, this
Will lug your priests and servants from your
Pluck stout mens' pillows from below their heads.
This yellow Mave
Will knit and break religions; bless th' accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it,
That makes the (7) waped widow wed again ;

She,

Clarus erit fortis, juftus, sapicns ; etiam & rex
Et quicquid volei

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
Sub rastro erepet argenti feria dextro
Hercule!
Or, O thou thund'rer's fon, great Hercules,
That once thy bounteous deity would please,
To guide my rake upon the chinking found

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
The most deformed, and restores them lovely,

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
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th’April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.

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.

Consumptions fow
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharp shins,

And

(8) Extort Oxford editor, vulg. exhaul.

And mar mens' spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor found his quillets fhrilly (9) Hoar the Flamen
That (culds againīt the quality of flesh,

And

(9) Hoar, &c.] Mr. Upton, plainly perceiving there was fumething wrong in this pallage, proposes to read,

Hearfe the Flamen. je make hoarse: for to be hoary claims reverence: this, not only the poets but the scripture teaches us : Levit. xix. 32. Thou. fhalt rise up before tlie boary head."" Add

to this, that hoa ke, is here most proper, as opposed to scolds. The poet could never mean-" Give the Flamen the hoary leprosy that scolds; hoa", in this sense, is so ambiguous, that the construction hardly admits it, and the opposition plainly requires the other reading." See Crit. Observalions, p. 198. Though I must confess Mr. Upton's conjecture very ingenious, and acknowledge with him, bear, as it stands, can never be Shakespear's word; yet neither can I think hourse to be fo: tho' perhaps it may seem unreasonable in me to condemn it, without being able to offer a better in its. place. But I am apt to imagine there is a word by some means or other flipt.out. of the text, and wanted where I have placed the asterisk.

Nor found his quillets shrilly. *the hoar Flamen

That scolds, , & c.What tlie word só löft' is, or how it must be supplied, can be only conjecture, so that every reader will have a pleasing oppor-tunity of trying his critical fagacity; the epithet is very proper for.the Flamen, and it seems to me, if we allow boars, there is none, or very little difference between what he and the lawyer: were to suffer : it seems probable, [cids in the next line, has bee'n- misplac'd : and indulging conjecture, we may at least be', allowed to suppose the pasage originally stood thus;

Nor found his quilléts Threwdly. Scald the boar Flamen
That 1 ails againstthe quality of the flesh,,

And not believes himself. . Thus, that part of the Flamen, which procures him reverence, his hoary head would suffer, and thus the punishments are varied. But this is only guess-work; and yet in such cases we have a' better right to proceed in the daring work of alteration, than where an author's text is corrupt only to our feeble imagina-tions.

And not believes himself. Down with with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular (10) to foresee
Smells from the gen'ral weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians

bald,
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you.

SCENE V. Timon's Reflections on the Earth.

That nature being fick of man's unkindness,
Should

yet be hungry! Common mother, thou
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all; oh, thou ! whose felf-fame metile
(Wherof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft)
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,

The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm;
With all the abhorred births below (11) crisp heaven,
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine ;
Yield him, who all thy human fons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root !
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb;
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man.
Go great with tygers, dragons, wolves, and bears,
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented-o, a root-dear thanks!
(12) Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas,

Whereof (10) To foresee.] As men by forefering, provide for, and take care of their affairs, Shakespear uses the word in that sense, "of him that to foresee, (provide for and see after] his own particular advantage, c."

(11) Grispcrispus, crispatus, curkd; alluding to the clouds, that appear curkd, and to which he gives that epithet in the Tempef.

To ride On the curled clouds. (12) Dry up.] Mr. Harburton reads here. ` Dry up thy hai-row'd veini, and plough-torn leas : and the Oxfordi editor.

Dry

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Whereof ingrateful man with liq'rish draughts,
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips.

Timon's Discourse with Apemantus.
Aper. This is in thee a nature but affected,
A poor uninanly melancholy, sprung
From change of fortune. Why this fpade ? this place?
This slave-like habit, and these looks of care?
Thy flatt’rers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie loft ;
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
'That ever Timon was. Shame not these (13) weeds,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatt'rer now, and seek to thrive
By that which hath undone thee; hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou’lt obferve
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious ftrain,
And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus :
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, th:t bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis moft just
That thou turn rascal: hadît thou wealth again,
Rascals should hav't. Do not assume

my likeness. Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.

Apem. Thou'st caft away thyself, being like thyself, So long a madınan, now a fool. What, chink'it ihou That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warın? will these (14) moss'd trees

That Dry up thy meadows, vineyards, plough-torn leas. Tlie Oxford editor has some ground for his criticism, for I find in the folio, marrows, vines, &c. and for Mr. Wa-burton's, there is indeed something to be said, tho’ he must observe, the metaphor is not kept up by his alteration (for 'tis to keep up the metaphor he aiters) except another night emendation be made of kas into limbs!

(13) W’eeds.] This was woods, till altered by Mr. Warburton; we may observe, Apemantus frequently reproaches Timor with bis change of garb.

This flave-like habit

This four cold habit on, (14) Mofid,] Oxf. edit. vulg. moift.

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