Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?

What art thou?

:

Imo. I am nothing or if not, Nothing to be were better.

This was my master,

A very valiant Briton, and a good,

That here by mountaineers lies slain :-Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ.-If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon it.-Say you, sir?

Luc. Thy name?

Imo. Fidele.

[Aside.

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same : Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep

As these poor pickaxes can dig.:' and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his

grave,

And on it said a century of prayers,

Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;

-And, leaving so his service, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

Luc. Ay, good youth;

And rather father thee, than master thee.--
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can,

And make him with our pikes and partizans

[9] To do a picture, and a picture is well done, are standing phrases; the question therefore is, Who has altered this picture, so as to make it otherwise than nature

did it.

JOHNSON.

A grave: Come, arm him.'-Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd,
Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes:

As soldiers can,

Some falls are means the happier to arise.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace. Enter CYMBELINE, Lords,

and PISANIO.

Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her.

A fever with the absence of her son;

A madness, of which her life's in danger :-)
:-Heavens.
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time

When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
So needful for this present: It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis. Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,

Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your highness,
Hold me your loyal servant.

1 Lord. Good my liege,

The day that she was missing, he was here:

I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.

For Cloten,

There wants no diligence in seeking him,

And will, no doubt, be found.

Cym. The time's troublesome :

We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy, [To Pis. Does yet depend.3

1 Lord. So please your majesty,

The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,

Are landed on your coast; with a supply

Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen!

I am amaz'd with matter.

[2] That is, take him up in your arms.

HANMER.

[8] My suspicion is yet undetermined; if I do not condemn you, I likewise have

not acquitted you. We now say, the cause is depending.

JOHNSON.

1 Lord. Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of

[ready :

come more, for more you're

The want is, but to put those powers in motion,

'That long to move.

Cym. I thank you : Let's withdraw :

And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away,

Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since
I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange :
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
To yield me often tidings; Neither know I
What is betid to Cloten; but remain
Perplex'd in all.

[Exeunt.

The heavens still must work : Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd : Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

Before the Cave. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVI

RAGUS.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel. Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure ?

Gui. Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us; this way, the Romans

Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us

For barbarous and unnatural revolts

During their use, and slay us after.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness

Of Cloton's death (we being not known, not muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render

Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us that

[4] Your forces are able to face such an army as we hear the enemy will bring against us.

JOHNSON.

[5] An account of our place of abode. This dialogue is a just representation of the superfluous caution of an old-man.

12

JOHNSON.

Which we have done, whose answer would be death

Drawn out with torture.

Gui. This is, sir, a doubt,

In such a time, nothing becoming you,

Nor satisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely,

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,

Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel. O, I am known

Of many in the army: many years,

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Gui. Than be so,

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv. By this sun that shines,

I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had

A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd

To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

If

Gui. By heavens, I'll go :

you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care; but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me, by The hands of Romans !

Arv. So say I; Amen.

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives

you set

So slight a valuation, should reserve

My crack'd one to more care Have with you, boys: If in your country wars you chance to die,

That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie :

Lead, lead. The time seems long; their blood thinks

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

ACT V.

[Aside. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-A Field between the British and Roman Camps. Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody Handkerchief.

Post. YEA, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee: for I wish'd Thou shouldst be colour'd thus." You married ones, If each of you would take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves, For wrying but a little ?-O, Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands : No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you Should have ta en vengeance on my faults, I never Had liv'd to put on this : so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent; and struck Me wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack. You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse ;9 And make them dread it to the doers' thrift.' But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,

And make me bless'd to obey!-I am brought hither

[6] The bloody token of Imogen's death, which Pisanio in the foregoing act determined to send. JOHNSON.

[7]-This is a soliloquy of nature, uttered when the effervescence of a mind agitated and perturbed, spontaneously and inadvertently discharges itself in words. The speech, throughout all its tenor, if the last conceit be excepted, seems to issue warm from the heart. He first condemns his own violence; then tries to disburden himself, by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio; he next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary tranquility by trying to think that he has been only an instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen. He is now grown reasonable enough to determine, that having done so much evil he will do no more; that he will not fight against the country which he has already injured; but as life is not longer supportable, he will die in a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man who does not think himself worthy to be remembered.

[8] To put on---is to incite, to instigate.

JOHNSON.

JOHNSON.

[9] The last deed is certainly not the oldest, but Shakespeare calls the deed of an elder man an elder deed.

JOHNSON.

[1] "Some you snatch from hence for little faults; others you suffer to heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread their having done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers."

M. MASON.