Thieves, Senators, Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant; with Servants and Attendants. SCENE, Athens; and the Woods not far from it. From Lucian's Dialogues. Of this Play there is no Edition known but that of the Players. ACT I. SCENE I. A Hall in TIMON's Houfe. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant, at Several doors. G OOD day, Sir. POET. Pain. I am glad y'are well. Poet. I have not feen you long. How goes the world? Pain. It wears, Sir, as it goes. Poet. Ay, that's well known. But what particular rarity? what fo ftrange, 1 But what particular rarity? &c.] Our author, it is obfervable, has made his poet in this play a knave. But that it might not reflect upon the profeffion, he has made him only a pretender to it, as appears from his having drawn him, all the way, with a falfe tafte and judgOne infallible mark of which, is a fondness for every thing ftrange, furprizing and portentous; and a difregard for whatever is common, or in nature. Shakespear therefore has with great delicacy of judgment ment. Which put his poetafter upon this inquiry. WARBURTON. The learned commentator's note muft fhift for itfelf. I cannot but think that the passage is at prefent in confufion. The Poet afks a question, and stays not for an anfwer, nor has his queftion any apparent drift or confequence. I would range the paffage thus: Poet. Ay, that's well known. Paint. Which manifold Record not matches? See, Magick of Bounty! all thefe Spirits thy power Jew. Nay, that's most fixt. 2 Mer. A moft incomparable man, breath'd as it were To an untirable and continuate goodness, He paffes Jew. I have a jewel here. Mer. O, pray, let's fee't. For the Lord Timon, Sir? few. If he will touch the estimate. But for thatPoet. When we for recomp-nce have prais'd the vile, It ftains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly fings the good. Mer. 'Tis a good form. [Looking on the jewel. Jew. And rich. Here is a water, Look ye... Pain. You're rapt, Sir, in fome work, fome dedi cation To the great Lord. Poet. A thing flipt idly from me. Our Poefy is as a Gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i' th' flint Shews not, 'till it be ftruck: our gentle flame Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, Sir. Pain. 'Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis. This comes off well and excellent, Poet. Admirable! how this grace —and like the current flies Each bound it chafes.] Thus the folio reads, and rightly. In later editions, chafes. WARB. This fpeech of the poet is very obfcure. He feems to boaft the copioufnefs and facility of his vein, by declaring that verfes drop from a poet as gums from odoriferous trees, and that his flame kindles itself without the violence neceffary to elicite fparkles from the flint. What follows next? that it, like a current, flies each bound it chafes, This may mean, that it expands itself notwithstanding all obftructions: but the images in the comparison are fo ill forted, and the effect fo obfcurely expreffed, that I cannot but think fomething omitted that connected the laft fentence with the former. It is well known that the players often fhorten speeches to quicken the reprefentation; and it may be fufpected, that they fometimes performed their amputations with more hafte than judgment, Speaks |