The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthúmus,
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'st of good ones), sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature 10, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man

Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye:-

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover), took his hint;

And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein
He was as calm as virtue), he began

His mistress picture; which by his tongue being made,

10 Feature is here used for proportion. See vol. i. p. 125, note 4; and Sc. 1, note 7, p. 7, ante :

for feature laming

The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature.'

i. e. the ancient statues of Venus and Minerva, which exceeded in beauty of exact proportion any living bodies, the work of brief, i. e. of hasty and unelaborate nature. So in Antony and Cleopatra :

'O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see
The fancy out-work nature.'

Pight is set, compact: as in the phrase, a quarry and wellpight man.'

And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym.

Nay, nay, to the purpose.
lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.
He spake of her as 11 Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car 12. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,

Remember me at court, where I was taught

Of

your chaste daughter the wide difference "Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain

'Gan in duller Britain operate
your
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with similar proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes 13
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks

11 As for as if. So in The Winter's Tale :

12

he utters them as he had eaten ballads.'
'He had deserved it, were it carbuncled
Like Phoebus' car.'

Antony and Cleopatra.

13 i. e. such marks of the chamber and pictures, as averred or confirmed my report.

Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,—
Methinks, I see him now,-

Post.

Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.

Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villains past, in being,

To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer 14! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain like,.I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself 15.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas!-O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo.

Peace, my lord; hear, hear

Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful

page,

There lie thy part.

[Striking her; she falls. Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help, Mine, and your mistress :-O, my Lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!Mine honour'd lady!

14 Justicer was anciently used instead of justice. Shakspeare has the word thrice in King Lear. And Warner, in his Albion's England, 1602, b. x. ch. 45:

Precelling his progenitors, a justicer upright.' 15 Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself.'

Cym.

Does the world go round?

Post. How comes these staggers 16

Pis.

on me? Wake, my mistress?

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me

To death with mortal joy.

Pis.

How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my sight;

Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are.

Cym.
Pis. Lady,

The tune of Imogen!

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, ᎥᏝ
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; I had it from the queen.
Cym. New matter still?

Imo.

Cor.

It poison'd me.

O gods!I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd

As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius? Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me To temper 17 poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life; but, in short time, All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?

16 i. e. this wild and delirious perturbation. It is still common to say 'it stagger'd me,' when we have been moved by any sudden emotion of surprise. See vol. iii. p. 262, note 22. 17 Mix, compound.

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel.

My boys,

This is sure, Fidele.

There was our error.

Gui.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from

you?

Think, that you are upon a rock; and now

Throw me again 18.

Post.

[Embracing him.

Hang there like fruit, my soul,

Till the tree die!

Cym.

How now, my flesh, my child?

Imo.

Your blessing, sir,

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

[Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame yenot; You had a motive for't. [To GUI. and ARV.

Cym.
My tears that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

Imo.

I am sorry for❜t, my lord. Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely: But her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

18 Imogen comes up to Posthumus as soon as she knows that the error is cleared up; and, hanging fondly on him, says, not as upbraiding him, but with kindness and good humour,' How could you treat your wife thus?' in that endearing tone which most readers, who are fathers and husbands, will understand who will add poor to wife. She then adds, Now you know who I am, suppose we were on the edge of a precipice, and throw me from you; meaning, in the same endearing irony, to say, I am sure it is as impossible for you to be intentionally unkind to me, as it is for you to kill me. Perhaps some very wise persons may smile at part of this note; but however much black-letter books may be necessary to elucidate some parts of Shakspeare, there are others which require some acquaintance with those familiar pages of the book of Nature; Which learning may not understand, And wisdom may disdain to hear.'

Pye.