2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your Lordship only.
Clot. Why, fo I say.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to night?

Clot. Aftranger, and I know not on't?

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

[Afide. I Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.

Clot. Lecnatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatfoever he be. Who told you of this ftranger? 1 Lord. One of your Lordship's pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord.

Clot. Not eafily, I think.

2 Lord You are a fool granted, therefore your iffues being foolish do not derogate.

[Afide. Clot Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loft to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. [Exit Clot. 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

That fuch a crafty devil, as his mother,

Should yield the world this ass!

a woman, that Pears all down with her brain; and this her fon Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,

And leave eighteen.

-Alas, poor Princefs,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
(12) More hateful than the foul expulfion is
Cf thy dear husband, than that horrid act

(12) More bateful than the foul expulfion is

Of thy dear bufband, than that borrid að

Of the divorce- -be'll make the Heav'ns bold firm

Of

The walls of thy dear bonour, &c.] What perpetual proofs occur of these editors ftupid indolence! They cannot afford even to add, or tranfpofe, aftop, tho' the fenfe be never fo much concern'd in it. How would Cloten's follicitations, if I might ask these wife gentlemen, make the Heavens keep firm Imogen's honour. Would the fpeaker imply, that this wooer was fo hateful, worthlefs a creature, the Heavens would purposely keep her honeft in contempt of him? The Author meant no fuch abfurd ftuff. I dare be pofitive, I have

reform'd

Of the divorce he'ld make.—The heav'ns hold firmTM
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'ft ftand
T'enjoy thy banish'd Lord, and this great land.

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to a magnificent Bed chamber; in one part of it, a large trunk.

Imogen is discover'd reading in her Bed, a Lady attending. HO's there? my woman Helen?

Imo.

WLady. Pleafe you, Madam

Imo. What hour is it?

Lady. Almoft midnight, Madam.

Imo. I have read three hours then, mine eyes are weak, Fold down the leaf where I have left; to bedTake not away the taper, leave it burning: And if thou canft awake by four o'th' clock, I pr'ythee, call me-fleep hath feiz'd me wholly.

[Exit Lady.

To your protection I commend me. Gods;
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, 'beseech ye.

[Sleeps.

[lachimo rifes from the trunk. Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'er labour'd fenfe

Repairs itself by reft: our Tarquin thus

Did foftly prefs the rushes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lily,
And whiter than the fheets! that I might touch,
But kifs, one kifs--rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't!--'tis her breathing, that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o'th' taper
Bows tow`rd her, and would under-peep her lids,

reform'd his pointing, and by that retriev'd his true fense." This "wooer, fays the speaker, is more hateful to her than the banishment "of her Lord; or the horrid attempt of making that banishment "perpetual, by his marrying her in her lord's abfence." Having made this reflexion, he subjoins a virtuous with, that Heaven may preferve her honour unblemish'd, and her to enjoy her husband back, and her rights in the kingdom.

To fee th' inclofed lights, now canopy'd
Under these windows: white and azure, lac'd
With blue of heav'n's own tin&t.- -But

-

my defign's To note the chamber--I will write all down, Such, and fuch, pictures-there, the window,-fuch Th' adornment of her bed—the arras, figuresWhy, fuch, and fuch-and the contents o'th' story — Ah, but fome nat`ral notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables, Would teftify, t'enrich my inventory.

-

O Sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her fenfe but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying!--Come off, come off.-
[Taking off her bracelet.
As flipp'ry as the Gordian knot was hard.
'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As ftrongly as the confcience does within,
To th' madding of her Lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-fpotted, like the crimson drops.
I'th' bottom of a cowflip. Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make this fecret
Will force him think, I've pick'd the lock; and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more-to what end?
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted,
Screw'd to my mem'ry? She hath been reading, late,
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomele gave up--I have enough.-
To th' trunk again, and shut the fpring of it.
(13) Swift, fwift, you dragons of the night! that dawn-

(13) Swift, fwift, you dragons of the night! that darning

[ing

May

May ope the raven's eye.] Mr. Pope has profefs'd, that, in his aditions, "the various readings are fairly put in the margin, fo that "every one may compare them; and those he has prefer'd into the "text are CONSTANTLY ex fide codicum, upon authority." I muft own, I can't help fufpecting a little the veracity of this affertion; and I challenge him to produce any authentick copy of Cymbeline, that gives us this reading;

-that dawning

May ope the raven's eye.

Trom the first folia's down to Mr. Rowe's impreffion, we find it conftantly;

-that

May bear the raven's eye: I lodge in fear,

Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes, One, two, three: time, time!

[Goes into the trunk, the Scene closes.

SCENE changes to another part of the Palace, facing Imogen's Apartment.

Enter Cloten, and Lords.

1 Lord. Y lofs, the coldeft that ever turn'd up ace.

Our Lordship is the most patient man in

-that dawning

May bear the raven's eye.

If I agreed with Mr. Pope in the meaning of this expreffion, I could help him to an emendation, with a very minute change of the letters: -ibat dawning

May bare the raven's eye.

i.e. make bare, naked: and this would be a much more poetical word than ope. Befides, moft birds, as well as many quadrupeds, have a membrane for nictation, call'd wepropánμror, which they can at pleasure draw over their eyes, to defend them from too firong a light: and when this membrane is withdrawn, the eye may very properly be faid to be bared. But, notwithstanding all this, the old books give us the genuine reading; which, I'll be bold to fay, Mr. Pope has rejected, because he did not understand. Why should the dawn be faid peculiarly to open the raven's eye? The lark has always been counted the earliest stirrer among the feather'd kind. For the dawn to bear the raven's eye, is, as Mr. Warburton ingeniously observ'd to me, a very grand and poetical expreffion. It is a metaphor borrow'd from beraldry; as, again, in Much Ado about Nothing:

So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse.

That the dawn fhould bear the raven's eye, means, that it should rife, and fhew that colour. Now the raven's eye is remarkably grey: and grey-ey'd, 'tis known, is the epithet univerfally join'd to the morning. Nor has our Shakespeare forgot to allude to the morning being grey in other paffages.

and, look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy Eaft with fpots of grey.
The hunt is up; the morn is bright and grey.
O, pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey lines,
That fret the clouds, are meffengers of day.
And fee, the morn, in russet mantle clad.

For ruffet is dark brown, grey.

Much Ado, &c.

Tit. Andron.

The grey-ey'd morn fmiles on the frowning night,
Check'ring the caftern clouds with ftreaks of light.

Jul. Caf.
Hamlet,

Clot. It would make any man cold to lose.

1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship; you are most hot, and furious, when you win.

Clot. Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get this foolish Imogen, I fhould have gold enough: It's almoft morning, is't not?

I Lord. Day, my Lord.

Clot. I would, this mufick would come: I am advis'd to give her muficko'mornings; they fay, it will penetrate. Enter Muficians.

Come on, tune; if you can penetrate her with your fingering, fo; we'll try with tongue too; if none will do, let her remain but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful fweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her confider.

SONG.

Hark, hark! the lark at heav'n's gate fings,
And Phoebus 'gins arife,

His feeds to water at thofe Springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies:

And winking Mary. buds begin

To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady fweet, arije:

Arije, arife.

So, get you gone -if this penetrate, I will confider your mufick the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse hairs, and cats guts, nor the voice of unpav'd eunuch to boot, can never amend.

[Exeunt Muficians.

Enter Queen and Cymbeline.

2 Lord. Here comes the King.

Clot. I am glad I was up fo late, for that's the reafon I was up fo early: he cannot chufe but take this fervice

1. have