Quail to remember,-give me leave, I faint.-
Cym. My daughter, what of her ? renew thy ftrength;
I'd rather thou shouldst live, while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: ftrive, man, and speak.
Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock,
That ftruck the hour;) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The manfion where) 'twas at a feast, (oh, would
Our viands had been poifon'd! or at least,
Those which I heav'd to head :) the good Pofthumus-
(What should I fay? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the beft of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones)--fitting fadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy (57)

For beauty, that made barren the fwell'd boast
Of him that beft could fpeak; for ftature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Poftures, beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities, that man

Loves woman for; befides that hook of wiving,
Fairnefs, which strikes the eye-—

Cym. I ftand on fire.

Come to the matter.

Iach. All too soon I shall,

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.-This Posthumus,
(Most like a noble Lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover) took his hint ;
And, not difpraifing whom we prais'd, (therein

(57) Hearing us praife our loves of Italy

For beauty, that made barren the fwell'd boaft Of him that beft could fpeak; for feature, laming The forine of Venus, or ftraight pight Minerva, Poftures, beyond brief Nature; As plaufible as this reading may appear at first view, I dare fay, it is flightly corrupted. What! did they praise their miftreffes for beauty, and for feature too? The fymmetry of features is always one main part of beauty. Then why fhould features be faid to lame a ftatue, or the poftures of a well-built Goddess? We muft certainly restore for ftature laming

The forine of Venus, &c.

This agrees perfectly well with laming, ftraight pight, and postures: and fo the lady is prais'd for her beauty, her fhape, and her temper of mind.

He

He was as calm as virtue) he began

His miftrefs' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags

Were crack'd-of kitchen trulls, or his defcription
Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

Lach. Your daughter's chastity ;--there it begins: He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,

And the alone were cold; whereat, I, wretch!
Made fcruple of his praife; and wag'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In fuit the place of's bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring;
And would fo, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britaine
Poft I in this defign: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
By your chafte daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'u
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britaine operate
Moft vilely; for my vantage excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimilar proof enough.
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown,
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet ;.
(Oh, cunning! how I got it) nay, fome marks
Of fecret on her perfon; that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit; whereupon,
Methinks, I fee him now--

Poft. Ay, fo thou dost,

[Coming forward.

Italian fiend! ah me, moft credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's

That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come-oh, give me cord, or knife, or poifon,
Some upright jufticer! Thou, King, send out
For torturers ingenious; it is I

That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Po bumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie
That caus'd a leffer villain than myself,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was she, yea, and fhe herself.
Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and

Be villainy less than 'twas!-Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !

Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear

Poft. Shall's have a play of this?

Thou fcornful page, there lie thy part.

Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help,

[Striking her, she falls.

Mine, and your miftrefs-Oh, my Lord Pofthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now-help, help,

Mine honour'd lady

Cym. Does the world go round?

Poft. How come these staggers on me? }

Pif. Wake, my mistress!

Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to strike me

To death with mortal joy.

Pif. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my fight;:

Thou gav'ft me poifon : dang'rous fellow, hence!
Breathe not, where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pi Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur on me,. If what I gave you was not thought by me

A precious thing: I had it from the Queen.

Cym. New matter ftill?

Imo. It poifon'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods!

I left:

I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd,
Which must approve thee honeft. If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, giv'n his miftrefs that confection,
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction 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 ftuff, which, being ta'en, would seize
The prefent power of life; but in fhort time,
All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it-
Imo. Moft like I did, for I was dead.

Bel. My boys, there was our error.

Guid. This is, sure, Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock, and now

Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh? my child?

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

Imo. Your bleffing, Sir.

Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame

You had a motive for't.

Cym. My tears, that fall,

Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord.

[Kneeling.

you not,

[T. Guid. Arv.

Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My Lord,

Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's miffling, came to me

With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and fwore,
If I discover'd not which way she went,
It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my mafter's
Then in my pocket; which directed her
To feek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchafte purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: What became of him,
I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the story;

I flew him there.

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend!

I would not, thy good deeds fhould from my lips
Pluck a hard fentence; pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a Prince.

Guid. A moft incivil one.

The wrongs, he did me,

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me

With language that would make me fpurn the fea,

Could it fo roar to me.

I cut off's head;

And am right glad, he is not ftanding here

To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I'm forry for thee;

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

Imo. That headlefs man,

I thought had been my Lord.

Cym. Bind the offender,

And take him from our presence,

Bel. Stay, Sir King,

This man is better than the man he flew,

As well defcended as thyfelf; and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens

Had ever fcar for.-Let his arms alone; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old Soldier,

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,

By