The fun's a thief, and with his great attraction ACT V. SCENE I. On his honeft Steward. Forgive my gen'ral and exceptlefs rashness, How fain would I have hated all mankind, (18) Methinks, thou art more honest now than wife; For, by oppreffing and betraying me, Thou mightst have fooner got another service: SCENE (17) Mounds.] This formerly was moon, and the alteration is laimed by Mr. Theobald and Mr. Warburton: the opinion they fuppofe our author alludes to, is, that the faltnefs of the fea is caufed by feveral ranges or mounds of rock-falt under water, with which refolving liquor the fea was impregnated. The whole of this feems to be a good deal in the manner of Anarean's celebrated drinking ode, too well known to be inferted here. (18) Mathniks, &e.] See Othilk, p. 205, SCENE II. Difference betwixt Promife and Performance. Promifing is the very air of the time, it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever the duller for its act, and but in the plain 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. SCENE V. Wrong and Infolence. Now breathlefs wrong Shall fit and pant in your great chairs of case; General Obfervations. THE ftory of the Misanthrope (fays Farmer) is told in almost every collection of the time, and particularly in two books, with which Shakespear was intimately acquainted, the Palace of Pleafure, and the English Plutarch. Indeed from a paffage in an old play, cailed Jack Drum's Entertainment, I conjecture that he had before made his appearance on the stage. THE play of Timon (fays Johnson) is a domeftic tragedy, and therefore ftrongly faftens on the attention of the Reader. In the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that oftentatious liberality, which fcatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery, but not friendship. In this tragedy, are many paffages perplexed, obfcure, and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify, or explain, with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promife myself that my endeavours fhall be much applauded. 00000000 (1) T XXI. TITUS ANDRONICUS. ACT I. W SCENE IL Mercy. ILT thou draw near the nature of the Gods? Draw near them then in being merciful; Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge, SCENE III. Thanks. Thanks, to men Of noble minds is honourable meed. SCENE IV. An Invitation to Love. (2) The birds chant melody on every bush, The fnake lies rolled in the chearful fun, The (1) Wilt, &c.] This, as Mr. Whalley has obferved, is directly the fenfe and words of a paffage in one of Cicero's finest orations: Homines ad Deos nulla re propius accedunt, quam falutem homi nibus dando. Orat. pro legar. fub. fin. See Enquiry into the learning of Shakespear, p. 64. (2) The birds, &c.] Nobilis eftivas platanus, &c. A plain diffus'd its bow'ring verdure wide With trembling pines, which to the Zephyrs figh'd: And the foft cypress, ever whisp'ring love: 'Midft these a brook in winding murmurs ftray'd, 'Twas love's Elysium. Petron. Arb. by Addison, junior. The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, Of lullaby, to bring her babe afleep. SCENE V. Vale, a dark and melancholy one defcribed. (3) A barren and detefted vale, you fee, it is. (3) Barren, &c.] Non hæc autumno tellus viret; aut alit herbas A thoufand No autumn here e'er cloaths herfelf with green, Nor feather'd warblers chant their pleafing trains, In vernal concert to the rustling boughs: But chaos reigns, and ragged rocks around, Petron. Arbit, translated by Baker. A thousand fiends, a thoufand hiffing fnakes, Should ftrait fall mad, or elfe die fuddenly. SCENE VII. A Ring, in a dark Pit. (4) Upon his bloody finger he doth wear Young Lady playing on the Lute and finging? Fair Philomela, the but loft her tongue, (5) Or (4) Upon, &c.] We may fuppofe the light thrown into the pit by this ring, fomething of that kind Milton speaks of, in the first book of Paradife Loft. A dungeon horrible on all fides round, As one great furnace flam'd: yet from thofe flames Again, The feat of defolation void of light, P. 6г. Save what the glimmering of thefe livid flames, P. 181 VOL. III. 0 |