Arv. What should we speak of', When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing: We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey; Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat: Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, And sing our bondage freely. Bel. How you speak 8 ! Did you but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly the art o'the court, The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war, I'the name of fame, and honour; which dies i'the search; And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 7 This dread of an old age unsupplied with matter for discourse and meditation, is a sentiment natural and noble. No state can be more destitute than that of him, who, when the delights of sense forsake him, has no pleasures of the mind.' JOHNSON. 8 Otway seems to have taken many hints for the conversation which passes between Acasto and his sons from the scene be fore us. A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, And left me bare to weather9. Gui. Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft), But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains; And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state 10. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt GUI. and ARV. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature! I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 9 Thus in Timon of Athens: 10 'That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush nulla aconita, bibuntur Fictilibus; tunc illa time, cum pocula sumes Juv. The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 11 At three, and two years old, I stole these babes 11; Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, SCENE IV. Near Milford Haven. Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN. [Exit. Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand:-Ne'er long'd my mother so 11 Shakspeare seems to intend Belarius for a good character, yet he makes him forget the injury which he has done to the young princes, whom he has robbed of a kingdom, only to rob their father of heirs. The latter part of this soliloquy is very inartificial, there being no particular reason why Belarius should now tell to himself what he could not know better by telling it. JOHNSON. 12 i. e. to the grave of Euriphile; or to the grave of their To see me first, as I have now :-Pisanio! Man! From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, What's the matter? Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Pis. Please you, read; And shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. you Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: mother,' as they supposed it to be. The grammatical construction requires that the poet should have written to thy grave;' but we have frequent instances of this change of persons not only in Shakspeare, but in all the writings of his age. 1 The true pronunciation of Greek and Latin names was not much regarded by the writers of Shakspeare's age. The poet has, however, differed from himself, and given the true pronunciation when the name first occurs, and in one other place : To his protection; call him Posthumus.' I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven: she hath my letter for the purpose; Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.—No, 'tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 2 All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states 3, To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed? Pis. Alas, good lady! Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness :-Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, Thy favour's good enough.-Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting4, hath betray'd him: 2 It has already been observed that worm was the general name for all the serpent kind. See Antony and Cleopatra, Act v. Sc. 2, note 31. 3 i. e. persons of the highest rank. 4 Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a whore. We have the word again in The Merry Wives of Windsor:- Teach him to know turtle from jays.' See vol. i. p. 239. 'Some jay of Italy, whose mother was her painting, i. e. made by art; the creature not of nature but of painting. In this sense painting may be said to be her mother. Steevens met with a similar phrase in some old play :- A parcel of conceited feather-caps, whose fathers were their garments.' |