Imatges de pÓgina
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Enter Troilus.
Troi. Hector is sļain.
All. Hector! - the gods forbid!

Troi. He's dead, and at the murtherer's horse's tail
In beastly sort dragg’d through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heav'ns, effect your rage with speed;
Sit gods upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
I say at once, let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.

Æne. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.

Troi. You understand me not, that tell me so:
I do not speak of fight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a scrietch-owl ay be callid,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead :
That is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives;
Cold statues of the youth; and in a word,
Scare Troy out of it self. But march away,
Hector is dead: there is no more to say.
Stay yet, you vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains :
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you. And thou, great-fiz’d coward!
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates,
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frensy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

Enter Pandarus.
Pan. But hear you, hear you?

Toi.

Troi. Hence, brothel, lácky; ignominy, shame [Strikes him. Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.

(Exeunt. Pan. A goodly med’cine for mine a king bones! Oh world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despis’d: Oh, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set at work, and how ill requited? why should our endeavour be so lov’d, and the performance so loath’d? what verse for it? what instance for it ? ---- let me see--Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, "Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; But being once subdu'd in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. Good traders in the Aeih, set this in your painted cloths As many as be here of Pandar's hall, Your eyes half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall; Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aking bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made: It should be now; but that my fear is this, † Some galled goose of Winchefer would hiss ; 'Till then, I'll sweat, and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeach you my diseases.

(Exit. + The publick fiews were anciently under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Winchester,

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Dramatis Personæ.

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CYMBELINE, King of Britain,
Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former husband.
Leonatus Posthumus, a gentleman in love with the Princess, and pri-

vately married to her.
Guiderius,/ Disguis’d under the names of Polidore and Cadwal, suppo-
Arviragus,

Sed sons to Bellarius.
Bellarius, a banish'd Lord, disguis'd under the name of Morgan.
Philario, an Italian, Friend to Posthumus.
Iachimo, Friend to Philario.
Çaius Lucius, Ambassador from Rome
Pisanio, Servant to Posthumus.
A French gentleman, friend to Philario.
Çornelius, a Doctor, Servant to the Queen.
Two Gentlemen.

Queen, Wife to Cymbeline.
Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen.
Helen, Woman to Imogen.

Lords, Ladies, Romap Senators, Tribunes, Ghosts,, a Soothsayer,

Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other attendants.

SCENE, for some part of the first, second, and third
Aits, lyes in Rome; for the rest of the Play in Britain.

Story partly taken from Boccace's Decameron, day 2. nov. 9.

little besides the names being historical.

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CYMBELINE's Palace in Britain.

Enter two Gentlemen.

I GENI LEMA N.
OU do not meet a man but frowns. Our bloods
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers;
But seem as do’s the king's.

2 Gent. But what's the matter?
1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of's king-

dom (whom
He purpos’d to his wife's sole fon, a widow
That late he married) hath referr'd her self
Unto a poor, but worthy gentleman.
She's wedded.
Her husband banish’d; she imprison’d. All
Is outward sorrow, though I think the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

2 Gent. None but the king?

i Gent. He that hath lost her too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier, (Although they wear their faces to the bent Q2

Of

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