Poet.
2 noteWhen we for recompence have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings 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 some work, some dedication
To the great lord.
Poet.
A thing slipt idly from me.
Our Poesie is a Gum, which issues
From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i' th' flint
Shews not, 'till it be struck: our gentle flame
Provokes itself,—and like the current flies
3 noteEach Bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain.
A picture, Sir:—when comes your book forth?
Poet.
Upon the heels of my presentment, Sir.
Let's see your piece.
-- 149 --
Pain.
'Tis a good piece.
Poet.
So 'tis,
4 noteThis comes off well and excellent.
Pain.
Indiff'rent.
Poet.
Admirable! 5 note
how this grace
Speaks his own standing? what a mental power
This eye shoots forth? how big imagination
Moves in this lip? to th' dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
Pain.
It is a pretty mocking of the life:
Here is a touch—is't good?
Poet.
I'll say of it,
It tutors Nature; 6 noteartificial strife
Lives in those touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators.
Pain.
How this lord is followed!
Poet.
The Senators of Athens! happy (a) note man!
Pain.
Look more!
Poet.
You see this confluence, this great flood of visiters.
-- 150 --
I have, in this rough Work, shap'd out a Man,
Whom this beneath-world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment. My free drift
Halts not particular, but moves itself
7 noteIn a wide sea of wax; 8 note
no tleven'd malice
Infects one Comma in the course I hold,
&wlquo;But flies an eagle-flight, bold, and forth on,
&wlquo;Leaving no tract behind.&wrquo;
Pain.
How shall I understand you?
Poet.
I'll unbolt to you.
You see, how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slipp'ry (a) note natures, as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their Service to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
9 noteThan to abhor himself; ev'n he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.
Pain.
I saw them speak together.
Poet.
I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The Base o'th' mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
-- 151 --
1 noteTo propagate their states; amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sov'reign lady fixt,
One do I personate of Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her iv'ry hand wafts to her,
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.
Pain.
'Tis conceiv'd, to scope,
This throne, this Fortune, and this Hill, methinks,
With one man becken'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well exprest
2 noteIn our condition.
Poet.
Nay, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late,
Some better than his value, on the moment
Follow his strides; his lobbies fill with tendance;
3 noteRain sacrificial whisp'rings in his ear;
Make sacred even his stirrop; and through him
Drink the free air.
Pain.
Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet.
When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his Dependants
(Which labour'd after to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands,) let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain.
'Tis common:
-- 152 --
A thousand moral Paintings I can shew,
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To shew lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.
SCENE II.
Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, addressing himself courteously to every suitor.
Tim.
Imprison'd is he, say you?
[To a Messenger.
Mes.
Ay, my good lord; five talents is his debt,
His means most short, his creditors most straight:
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up, which failing to him
Periods his comfort.
Tim.
Noble Ventidius! well—
I am not of that feather to shake off
My friend when he most needs me. I do know him
A gentleman that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have, I'll pay the debt and free him.
Mes.
Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim.
Commend me to him, I will send his ransom;
And, being enfranchiz'd, bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after. Fare you well.
Mes.
All happiness to your Honour!
[Exit.
Enter an old Athenian.
Old Ath.
Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath.
Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim.
I have so: what of him?
Old Ath.
Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.
Tim.
Attends he here or no? Lucilius!—
-- 153 --
Enter Lucilius.
Luc.
Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath.
This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift,
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim.
Well: what further?
Old Ath.
One only daughter have I, no kin else,
On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost,
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pray thee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;
My self have spoke in vain.
Tim.
The man is honest.
Old Ath.
4 noteTherefore he will be, Timon.
His honesty rewards him in itself,
It must not bear my daughter.
Tim.
Does she love him?
Old Ath.
She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us,
What levity's in youth.
Tim.
Love you the maid?
Luc.
Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Ath.
If in her marriage my consent be missing,
I call the Gods to witness, I will chuse
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.
-- 154 --
Tim.
How shall she be endowed,
If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath.
Three talents on the present, in future all.
Tim.
This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;
To build his fortune I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.
Old Ath.
Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Tim.
My hand to thee, mine honour on my promise.
Luc.
Humbly I thank your Lordship: 5 note
never may
That state, or fortune, fall into my keeping,
Which is not own'd to you.
[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian.
Poet.
Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!
Tim.
I thank you, you shall hear from me anon:
Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
Pain.
A piece of Painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.
Tim.
Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man:
For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature,
He is but outside: pencil'd figures are
Ev'n such as they give out. I like your Work;
And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance
'Till you hear further from me.
-- 155 --
Pain.
The Gods preserve ye!
Tim.
Well fare you, gentleman; give me your hand,
We must needs dine together: Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew.
What, my lord? dispraise?
Tim.
A meer satiety of commendations:
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
It would unclew me quite.
Jew.
My lord, 'tis rated
As those, which sell, would give: but you well know,
Things of like value, differing in the owners,
Are by their masters priz'd; Believ't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
Tim.
Well mock'd.
Mer.
No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.
Tim.
Look, who comes here,
SCENE III.
6 note
Enter Apemantus.
Will you be chid?
Jew.
We'll bear it with your lordship.
Mer.
He'll spare none.
Tim.
7 note
Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Apem.
'Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow.
-- 156 --
Apem.
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.
Tim.
Why dost thou call them knaves, thou know'st
them not?
Apem.
Are they not Athenians?
Tim.
Yes.
Apem.
Then I repent not.
Jew.
You know me, Apemantus.
Apem.
Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy
name.
Tim.
Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem.
Of nothing so much, as that I am not like
Timon.
Tim.
Whither art going?
Apem.
To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.
Tim.
That's a deed thou'lt die for.
Apem.
Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
Tim.
How lik'st thou this Picture, Apemantus?
Apem.
The best, for the innocence.
Tim.
Wrought he not well, that painted it?
Apem.
He wrought better, that made the Painter:
and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Paint.
Y'are a dog.
Apem.
Thy mother's of my generation: what's she,
if I be a dog?
Tim.
Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
Apem.
No, I eat not lords.
Tim.
If thou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies.
Apem.
O, they eat lords; so they come by great
bellies.
Tim.
That's a lascivious apprehension.
-- 157 --
Apem.
So thou apprehend'st it. Take it for thy
labour.
Tim.
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
Apem.
Not so well as Plain-dealing, which will
not cost a man a doit.
Tim.
What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem.
Not worth my thinking—How now, Poet?
Poet.
How now, Philosopher?
Apem.
Thou liest.
Poet.
Art thou not one?
Apem.
Yes.
Poet.
Then I lie not.
Apem.
Art not a poet?
Poet.
Yes.
Apem.
Then thou liest: look in thy last work,
where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet.
That's not feign'd, he is so.
Apem.
Yes, he is worthy o' thee, and to pay thee
for thy labour. He that loves to be flattered, is worthy
o' th' flatterer. Heav'ns, that I were a lord!
Tim.
What would'st do then, Apemantus?
Apem.
Ev'n as Apemantus does now, hate a lord
with my heart.
Tim.
What, thyself?
Apem.
Ay.
Tim.
Wherefore?
Apem.
8 note
That I had so hungry a wit, to be a lord.—
Art thou not a Merchant?
Mer.
Ay, Apemantus.
Apem.
Traffic confound thee, if the Gods will not!
Mer.
If Traffick do it, the Gods do it.
-- 158 --
Apem.
Traffick's thy God, and thy God confound thee!
Trumpets sound. Enter a Messenger.
Tim.
What trumpet's that?
Mes.
'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse
All of companionship.
Tim.
Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us;
You must needs dine with me: go not you hence,
'Till I have thankt you; and when dinner's done,
Shew me this piece. I'm joyful of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome, Sir!
[Bowing and embracing.
Apem.
So, so! Aches contract, and starve, your
supple joints! that there should be small love amongst
these sweet knaves, and all this courtesie! the strain of
man's bred out into baboon and monkey.
Alc.
You have sav'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.
Tim.
Right welcome, Sir.
Ere we do part, we'll share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Manet Apemantus. Enter Lucius and Lucullus.
Luc.
What time a day is't, Apemantus?
Apem.
Time to be honest.
Luc.
That time serves still.
Apem.
The most accursed thou, that still omitt'st
it.
Lucul.
Thou art going to lord Timon's feast.
Apem.
Ay, to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat
fools.
Lucul.
Fare thee well, fare thee well.
Apem.
Thou art a fool to bid me farewel twice.
-- 159 --
Lucul.
Why, Apemantus?
Apem.
Thou should'st have kept one to thyself, for
I mean to give thee none.
Luc.
Hang thyself.
Apem.
No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make
thy requests to thy friend.
Lucul.
Away, unpeaceable dog, or—I'll spurn
thee hence.
Apem.
I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' th' ass.
Luc.
He's opposite to humanity.
Come, shall we in, and taste lord Timon's bounty?
He, sure, outgoes the very heart of kindness.
Lucul.
He pours it out. Plutus, the God of gold,
Is but his Steward: no meed but he repays
Seven-fold above itself; no gift to him,
But breeds the giver a Return exceeding
9 noteAll use of quittance.
Luc.
The noblest mind he carries,
That ever govern'd man.
Lucul.
Long may he live in fortunes! shall we in?
Luc.
I'll keep you company.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Another Apartment in Timon's House.
Hautboys playing, loud musick. A great banquet serv'd in; and then enter Timon, Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius, and other Athenian senators, with Ventidius. Then comes, dropping after all, Apemantus discontentedly.
Ven.
Most honour'd Timon, it hath pleas'd the Gods
To call my father's age unto long peace.
-- 160 --
He is gone happy, and has left me rich.
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
I deriv'd liberty.
Tim.
O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love;
I gave it freely ever, and there's none
Can truly say he gives, if he receives:
1 note
If our Betters play at that game, we must not.
Apem.
Dare to imitate them: Faults that are rich, are fair.
Ven.
A noble spirit.
Tim.
Nay, ceremony was but devis'd at first,
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
2 noteRecanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown:
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes,
Than they to me.
[They sit down.
Luc.
We always have confest it.
Apem.
Ho, ho, confest it? hang'd it, have you not?
Tim.
O, Apemantus! you are welcome.
Apem.
No; you shall not make me welcome. I
come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
-- 161 --
Tim.
Fie, th' art a churle; ye have got a humour there
Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame:
They say, my lords, that Ira furor brevis est,
But yonder man is ever angry.
Go, let him have a Table by himself:
For he does neither affect company,
Nor is he fit for't, indeed.
Apem.
Let me stay at thy peril, Timon; I come to
observe, I give thee warning on't.
Tim.
I take no heed of thee; th' art an Athenian,
therefore welcome; I my self would have no power—
pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent.
Apem.
3 note
I scorn thy meat; 'twould choak me, 'fore
I should e'er flatter thee. O you gods! what a number
of men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not? It grieves
me to see
So many dip their meat in one man's blood,
And, all the madness is, 4 notehe cheers them up too.
I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men!
Methinks, they should invite them without knives:
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
There's much example for't; the fellow, that
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges
The breath of him in a divided draught,
Is th' readiest man to kill him. 'T has been prov'd.
Were I a Great man, I should fear to drink,
Lest they should spy my wind-pipe's dangerous notes:
Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
-- 162 --
Tim.
My lord, in heart; and let the health go
round.
Lucul.
Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem.
Flow this way!—a brave fellow! he
keeps his tides well; those healths will make thee and
thy state look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too
weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left
man i' th' mire:
This and my food are equal, there's no odds;
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the Gods.
Apemantus's grace.
Immortal Gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but myself;
Grant, I may never prove so fond
To trust man on his oath, or bond;
Or a harlot for her weeping;
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping;
Or a keeper with my freedom;
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen, Amen; So fall to't:
Rich men sin, and I eat root.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!
Tim.
Captain, Alcibiades, your heart's in the field
now.
Alc.
My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
Tim.
You had rather been at a breakfast of enemies,
than a dinner of friends.
Alc.
So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's
no meat like 'em. I could wish my friend at such a
feast.
Apem.
Would all these flatterers were thine enemies
then; that thou might'st kill 'em, and bid me to 'em!
Luc.
Might we but have the happiness, my lord,
that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might
-- 163 --
express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves
for ever perfect.
Tim.
Oh, no doubt, my good friends, but the Gods
themselves have provided that I shall have as much
help from you: 5 note
how had you been my friends else?
why have you that charitable title from thousands,
did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told
more of you to myself, than you can with modesty
speak in your own behalf. And thus far I confirm
you. Oh you Gods; (think I,) what need we have
any friends, if we should never have need of 'em?
they would most resemble sweet Instruments hung up
in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why,
I have often wisht myself poorer, that I might come
nearer to you: we are born to do benefits. And what
better or properer can we call our own, than the riches
of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis to
have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's
fortunes! O joy, e'en (a) note made a joy ere't can
be born; mine eyes cannot hold water, methinks: to
forget their faults, I drink to you.
Apem.
(b) noteThou weep'st but to make them drink
thee, Timon.
Lucul.
Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
And at that instant like a babe sprung up.
-- 164 --
Apem.
Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.
3 Lord.
I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.
Apem.
Much!
Sound Tucket.
Tim.
What means that trump? how now?
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies
most desirous of admittance.
Tim.
Ladies? what are their wills?
Serv.
There comes with them a fore-runner, my lord,
whch bears that office to signifie their pleasures.
Tim.
I pray, let them be admitted.
SCENE VI.
Enter Cupid with a Masque of Ladies, as Amazons.
Cup.
Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all
That of his bounties taste! the five best Senses
Acknowledge thee their patron; and do come
Freely to gratulate thy plenteous bosom:
6 note
Th' Ear, Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy Table rise,
These only now come but to feast thine eyes.
-- 165 --
Tim.
They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance.
Let musick make their welcome.
Luc.
You see, my lord, how amply you're belov'd.
Apem.
Hoyday! what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
7 note
They dance, they are mad women.
Like madness, is the glory of this life;
As this pomp shews to a little oyl and root.
We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
And spend our flatteries, to drink those men,
8 noteUpon whose age we void it up again,
With poisonous spight and envy—
Who lives, that's not depraved or depraves?
-- 166 --
Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves
Of their friends' gift?—
I should fear, those, that dance before me now,
Would one day stamp upon me: 'T has been done;
Men shut their doors against the setting sun.
The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of Timon; each singling out an Amazon, and all dance, men with women; a lofty strain or two to the hautboys, and cease.
Tim.
You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not half so beautiful and kind:
You've added worth unto't, and lively lustre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device.
I am to thank you for it.
Luc.
My lord, you take us even at the best.
Apem.
Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would
not hold taking, I doubt me.
Tim.
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you.
Please you to dispose yourselves.
All La.
Most thankfully, my lord.
[Exeunt.
Tim.
Flavius—
Flav.
My lord.
Tim.
The little casket bring me hither.
Flav.
Yes, my lord. More jewels yet? there is no
crossing him in's humour,
Else I should tell him—well—i'faith, I should,
When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then if he could:
Tis pity, Bounty has not eyes behind;
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.
Lucul.
Where be our men?
Serv.
Here, my lord, in readiness.
Luc.
Our Horses.
Tim.
O my good friends!
I have one word to say to you; look, my lord,
-- 167 --
I must entreat you, honour me so much
As to advance this jewel, accept and wear it,
Kind my lord!
Luc.
I am so far already in your gifts—
All.
So are we all.
[Exe. Lucius, Lucullus, &c.
SCENE VII.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate
newly alighted, and come to visit you.
Tim.
They are fairly welcome.
Re-enter Flavius.
Flav.
I beseech your Honour, vouchsafe me a word;
it does concern you near.
Tim.
(a) noteMe near? Why then another time I'll hear thee.
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to shew them entertainment.
Flav.
I scarce know how.
Enter another Servant.
2 Serv.
May it please your Honour, lord Lucius,
out of his free love, hath presented to you four milk-white
horses trapt in silver.
Tim.
I shall accept them fairly: let the Presents
Be worthily entertain'd.
Enter a third Servant.
How now? what news?
3 Serv.
Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman,
Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to
morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your Honour
two brace of grey-hounds.
-- 168 --
Tim.
I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
not without fair reward.
Flav.
What will this come to? he commands us to
provide, and give great gifts, and all out of an empty
coffer: Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,
To shew him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good;
His promises fly so beyond his state,
That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes for ev'ry word:
He is so kind that he pays interest for't:
His land's put to their books. Well, would I were
Gently put out of office, ere I were forc'd!
Happier is he that has no friend to feed,
Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord.
[Exit.
Tim.
You do yourselves much wrong, you bate
too much of your own merits. Here, my lord, a
trifle of our love.
1 Lord.
With more than common thanks I will receive
it.
3 Lord.
He has the very soul of bounty.
Tim.
And now I remember, my lord, you gave
good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on.
'Tis yours, because you lik'd it.
2 Lord.
Oh, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord,
in that.
Tim.
You may take my word, my lord: I know
no man can justly praise, but what he does affect. I
weigh my friend's affection with my own; I tell you
true. I'll call on you.
All Lords.
O, none so welcome.
Tim.
I take all, and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give
(a) note My thanks, I could deal Kingdoms to my friends,
-- 169 --
And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich,
It comes in charity to thee; thy living
Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast
Lye in a pitcht field.
Alc.
I defie land, my lord.
1 Lord.
We are so virtuously bound—
Tim.
And so am I to you.
2 Lord.
So infinitely endear'd—
Tim.
All to you. Lights! more lights, more lights.
3 Lord.
The best of happiness, honour and fortunes,
Keep with you, lord Timon—
Tim.
Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt Lords.
SCENE VIII.
Apem.
What a coil's here,
6 note
Serring of becks and jutting out of bums!
I doubt, whether their legs be worth the sums
That are giv'n for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs;
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs.
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies.
Tim.
Now Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen,
I would be good to thee.
Apem.
No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd
too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and
then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou giv'st so long,
Timon, 7 note
I fear me, thou wilt give away thyself in
-- 170 --
proper shortly. What need these feasts, pomps, and
vain-glories?
Tim.
Nay, if you begin to rail on society once, I
am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewel, and
come with better musick.
Apem.
So—thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then.
I'll lock thy heaven from thee:
Oh, that men's ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!
[Exit.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
