Imatges de pàgina
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The under-hangman of his realm; and hated
For being preferred so well.

Clot. The south-fog rot him!
Imo. He never can meet more mischance than

come

To be but named of thee. His meanest garment
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made fuch men. How now, Pisanio?

Enter PISANTO.
Clot. His garment? now, the devil -----
Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently.
Clot. His garment?

Imo. I am sprighted with a fool,
Frighted, and angered worfe---go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel that too casually
Hath left mine arm---it was thy master's.. 'Shrew
If I would lose it for a revenue

[me, Of any King in Europe. I do think I faw't this morning; confident I am, Last night it was on my arm; I kissed it. I hope it be not gone, to tell my

Lord
That I kiss ought but him.

Pif. 'Twill not be lost.
Imo. I hope fo; go, and search.

Clot. You have abused me...
His meanest garment?---

Imo. Ay, I said so, Sir; If you

will make't an action, call witness to't. Clot. I will inforın your father.

Imo. Your mother too;
She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So, I leave you, Sir,
To the worst of discontent.

[Exit. Clot. I'll be revenged ----His meanet garment ?---well.

[Exit.

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SCENE changes to Rome.
Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.
Poft. Fear it not, Sir; I would I were so fure
To win the King, as I am bold her honour
Will reinain hers.

Phil. What means do you make to him ?

Pot. Not any, but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come; in these feared

hopes,
I barely gratify your love ; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

Phil. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'er-pays all I can do. By this, your King
Hath heard of great Augustus ; Caius Lucius
Will do's commillion throughly. And, I think, (17).
He'll
grant

the tribute ; fend the arrearages,
E’er look upon our Romans, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Poft. I do believe,
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be),
(17)

- And, I think,
He'll grant the tribule, Send th' arrenrages,
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance

Is yet fresh in their grief.]
What a strange loose inierence do the editors here make
Philario guilty of, that Cymbeline would do one thing or
t’other ; either submit to pay tribute, or dispute the de-
mand at sword's point? Who doubts it? But this was none
of the speaker's meaning : he would give it as his thought,
that the Britons would pay, ere they would contest the
matter : and so I bave reformed the text. I have shewn
in my 21st note on Titus Andronicus, from Chaucer, and the
old glossaries, that or was formerly used for e'er, before : but
this usage, as I there oblerved, was become too obsolete for
Shakespeare's days.

That this shall prove a war; and you shall hear (18)
The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more ordered than when Julius Cæfar
Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers, they are people such
As mend upon the world.

Enter JACHIMO.
Phil. See, Tachimo.-----
Poft. Sure the swift harts have posted you by

land, And winds of all the corners kissed your

fails To make your vessel nimble.

(18)

- And you fall herr
The legion now in Gallia foouer landed

In our not-feari:g Britain, bir] Pofthumus is saying, that the Britons are much strengthen. ed fince the time of Julius Cæsar's attack upon them : would then the Romans think now of invading them with a finglc legion. The Poet certainly wrote;

The legions now in Gallia, &c.
So in four several pafiages afterwards :

The powers, that he already hath in Gallia,
Will soon be drawn, &c.
To them, the legions garrisoned in Gallia,
After your will, have crifi'd the seo.
And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full-weak to underloảe our war against
The fail'n-off Britons ; that we do incite
The gentry to this buiness.

So please your Majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with large fupply
Of Roman gentlen:en.

Phil. Welcome, Sir.

Poft. I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return.

lach, Your lady Is of the fairelt I e'er looked upon.

Poft. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them.

lach. Here are letters for you. Poft. Their tenour good, I trust. lach. 'Tis very like.

Haft. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court, When you were there?

lach. He was expected then, But not approached.

Post. All is well yet.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

lach. If I've lost it,
I should have lost the worth of it in gold;
I'll make a journey twice as far, t enjoy
A fecond night of such sweet shortnets, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.

Poft. The stone's too hard to come by.

lach. Not a whit, Your lady being so easy.

Poft. Make not, Sir, Your lofs your sport; I hope you know that we Must not continue friends.

lach. Good Sir, we must, If you keep covenant: had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question farther; but I now Profefs myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger

By both

Of her, or you, having proceeded but

your

wills. Poft. If you can make't apparent That

you

have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours. (19) If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains or loses Your sword or mine; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe; whole strength I will confirm with oath, which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you lhall find You need it not.

Poft. Proceed.

lach. First, her bed-chamber,----
(Where, I confess, I slept not; but profess,
Had that was well worth watching) it was hanged
With tapestry of silk and filver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride :-a piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship, and value; which, I wondered
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was---

Poft. This is true;
And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.

-If not, the foul opinion You hud of her poor honour, &c.] Thus Mr Rowe; and thus Mr Pope, as judiciously as fere vilely, after him : and yet he pretends to have collated the old copies. But the two elder Folios read, as I bave sestored,

You had of her pure honour.

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