Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE III.
The WOODS.
Enter Timon.
Tim.
4 note
O blessed, breeding Sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity; below 5 notethy sister's orb
Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
Whose procreation, residence, and birth
Scarce is dividant, touch with several fortunes;
The greater scorns the lesser. 6 note
Not ev'n nature,
-- 234 --
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune
But by contempt of nature.
7 note
Raise me this beggar, and denude that Lord,
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.
8 note
It is the Pastour lards the brother's sides,
-- 235 --
The Want that makes him leave. Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, this man's a flatterer? if one be,
So are they all, 9 notefor every greeze of fortune
Is smooth'd by that below. The learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool. All is oblique;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villany. Then be abhorr'd,
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
His Semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.
Destruction fang mankind!—Earth, yield me roots!
[Digging the earth.
Who seeks for better of thee, sawce his palate
With thy most operant poison!
What's here? Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold?
No, Gods, I am no 1 noteidle votarist.
Roots, you clear heav'ns!
Thus much
Of this will make black, white; fair, foul; wrong, right;
-- 236 --
Base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.
You Gods! why this? What? This you Gods? 2 note
Why, this
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides:
3 notePluck stout mens' pillows from below their heads.
This yellow slave
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,
4 note
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She whom the spittle-house, and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
5 noteTo 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
6 noteDo thy right nature.—[March afar off.] Ha, a drum?—7 noteThou'rt quick,
But yet I'll bury thee. Thou'lt go, strong thief,
-- 237 --
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
—Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
[Keeping some gold.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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