Bel. How you speak!

Did you but know the city's ufuries,

And felt them knowingly; the art o'th' court,
As hard to leave, as keep, whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or fo flipp'ry that

The fear's as bad as falling. The toil of war,
A pain, that only feems to feek out danger

I' th' name of fame, and honour, which dies i' th' fearch,

And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many time

Doth ill deferve, by doing well: what's worfe
Muft curt'fie at the cenfure. Oh, boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov❜d me,
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off; then was I as a tree,

Whofe boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night,
A storm or robbery, call it what you will,

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Guid. Uncertain favour!

Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you
oft,

But that two villains whofe falfe oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: fo

Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years,
This rock, and thefe demefnes, have been my world,
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, pay'd

More pious debts to Heaven, than in all
The fore-end of

tains,

my time- -But up to th' moun

This is not hunter's language; he that strikes
The venifon firft, fhall be the lord o'th' feaft,
To him the other two fhall minister,
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state.

The

The Force of Nature.

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are fons to th' king, Nor Cymbeline dreams, that they are alive.

They think they're mine, (10) and though train'd up thus meanly

I'th' cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them
In fimple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. (11) This Paladour,

(The

(10) And tho', &c.] That paffage is printed thus in the old editions;

-And tho' train'd up thus meanly

I'th'cave whereon they bow.

which the critics have alter'd according to their feveral fancies and conjectures: Mr. Theobald, and the Oxford editor, read,

I'th'cave, here on the brow.

That is furely too infignificant and inexpreffive for Shakespear. Mr. Warburton gives us a more plaufible, and I think, juft emendation-that I have admitted into the text: which the first lines of Belarius's fpeech feem to confirm;

Whofe roof's as low as ours: fee, boys, this gate

Inftructs you how t'adore the heav'ns: and bows you
To morning holy office.

"Tho' thus meanly brought up in a cave, which is fo low, that they must bow or bend in entering it; yet these young princes' thoughts are so exalted, they hit the roofs of palaces."

(11)) This, &c.) There is a paffage in the Maid's Tragedy, (the beginning of the first act) which well deferves to be compared with that in the text: Melantius, an old, honeft general, thus fpeaks of his friend;

His worth is great, valiant he is and temperate,
And one that never thinks his life his own,
If his friend need it: when he was a boy,
As oft as I return'd (as, without boast,

I brought home conqueft) he would gaze upon me,

And

(The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius,) Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I fit, and tell
The warlike feats I've done, his fpirits fly out
Into my story: fay, thus, mine enemy fell,

And view me round, to find in what one limb
The virtue lay to do thofe things he heard :
Then wou'd he wish to fee my fword, and feel
The quickness of the edge, and in his hand
Weigh it-He oft wou'd make me smile at this;
His youth did promise much, and his ripe age
Will fee it all perform'd.-

And

Mr. Seward obferves-(fee his preface, p. xvii.) A youth gazing on every limb of the victorious chief, then begging his fword, feeling its edge, and poifing it in his arm, are attitudes nobly expreffive of the inward ardor and ecftafy of foul; but what is moft obfervable is,

Weigh it,- &c.

-And in his hand

By this beautiful pause or break, the action and picture continue in view, and the poet, like Homer, is eloquent in filence. It is a fpecies of beauty that fhews an intimacy with that father of poetry, in whom it occurs extremely often. Milton has an exceeding fine one in the description of his Lazar-boufe.

-Despair

Tended the fick, bufieft from couch to couch,
And over them triumphant death his dart
Shook-but delay'd to strike, &c.

Par. Loft, B. 11. V. 490.

As Shakespear did not ftudy verfification, fo much as thefe poets who were converfant in Homer and Virgil, I don't remember in him any ftriking inftance of this fpecies of beauty. But he even wanted it not; his fentiments are fo amazingly bright, that they pierce the heart at once; and diction and numbers, which are the beauty and nerves adorning and invigorating the thoughts of other poets, to him are but like the bodies of angels, azure vehicks, through which the whole foul shines transparent. Of this, take the following instance;

This Paladour, &c."

See the 2d part of Henry VI. Act 4. Sc. I. n. 8.

And thus I fet my foot on's neck,-even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwall
(Once, Arviragus) in as like a figure

Strikes life into my speech, and fhews much more
His own conceiving.

(12) No, 'tis flander,

Whofe edge is sharper than the fword, whofe tongue
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile, whofe breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and ftates,
Maids, matrons, nay, the fecrets of the grave
This viperous flander enters.

A Wife's Innocency.

(13) Falfe to his bed! What is it to be falfe, To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock ?

nature,

-If fleep charge

To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? That falfe to's bed!

Woman in Man's Drefs.

(14) You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs, The handmaids of all women, (or more truly Woman its pretty felf,) to waggish courage, Ready in gibes, quick-anfwered, faucy, and

(12) No, 'sis, &c.] See Meafure for Meafure, Act 3. Sc. 6. (13) Falfe, &c.] See Hen. IV. part 1. n. 8.

(14) You must, &c.] See As you like it, Act 1, Sc. 10.

As

As quarrelous as the weazel: nay, you must
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek,
Expofing it (but oh, the harder hap*,
Alack, no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common kiffing Titan; and forget
Your labourfome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

SCENE VII. The Foreft and Cave.

Enter Imogen is Boy's Cloaths,

I fee, a man's life is a tedious one; I've tir'd myfelf; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be fick, But that my resolution helps me : Milford, When from the mountain-top Pifanio fhew'd thee, Thou waft within a ken. Oh, Jove, I think Foundations fly the wretched; fuch I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in fulness Is forer, than to lie for need: and falfhood Is worse in kings, than beggars. My dear lord, Thou'rt one o'th' falfe ones; now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to fink for food. But what is this?

[Seeing the Cave, Here is a path to't,-'Tis fome favage hold; 'Twere best not call; I dare not call: yet famine Ere it clean o'erthrows nature, makes it valiant. Plenty and peace breed cowards, hardness ever Of hardinefs is mother.

Hap, Warb. vulg. heart.

Labour.