Or fhe, that bore you, was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great ftock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd, if this be true?
(As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in hafte abuse ;) if it be true,
How fhall I be reveng❜d?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's prieft, betwixt cold fheets?
Whiles he is vaunting variable ramps

In your defpight, upon your purfe? Revenge it:--
I dedicate myself to your fweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue faft to your affection,
Still clofe, as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

lach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips.

Ima Away!I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
For fuch an end thou feek'ft; as bafe, as ftrange:
Thou wrong'ft a Gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'ft here a Lady, that difdains

Thee, and the devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!
The King my father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy affault; if he fhall think it fit,
A faucy franger in his court to mart
As in a Romi ftew, and to expound
His beaftly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not refpects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay;
The credit, that thy Lady hath of thee,
Deferves thy truft, and thy most perfect goodness
Her affured credit! bleffed live you long,
A Lady to the worthieft Sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his miftrefs, only
For the moft worthieft fit! Give me your pardon..
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance

K 4

Were

Were deeply rooted; and shall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The trueft-manner'd, fuch a holy witch,
That he inchants focieties into him:

Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends woy to

Iach. He fits 'mong men, like a defcended God
He hath a kind of honour fets him offy
More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry,
Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a falfe report which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment,
In the election of a Sir, fo rare,

Which, you know, cannot err. The love I bare him,
Made me to fan you thus but the Gods made you,
Unlike all others, chafflefs. Pray, your pardon,
Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'ri'th' court for yours.
Iach. My humble thanks; I had almoft forgot
T'intreat your Grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; myself, and other noble friends
Are partners in the business.

Imo. Pray, what is't

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your Lord,
(Beft feather of our wing,) have mingled fums
To buy a prefent for the Emperor :

Which I, the factor of the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am fomething curious, being ftrange,
To have them in safe ftowage; may it please you
To take them in protection ?

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath intereft in them, I will keep them

In

my bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a trunk,

Attended by my men: I will make bold
To fend them to you, only for this night;
I must a board to-morrrow, **

W 161)

.

Imo. O no, no.

Iach. Yes, I beseech you: or I fhall fhort my word, By length'ning my return. From Gallia,

I croft the feas on purpose, and on promise

To fee your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for

your pains;

But not away to-morrow?

Iach. O, I muft, Madam.

Therefore I fhall beech you, if you please
To greet your Lord with writing, do't to-night.
I have outftood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our prefent.

Imo. I will write :

Send your trunk to me, it fhall fafe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You're very welcome.

[Exe.

பை

SCENE, Cymbeline's Palace.

WAS

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

CLOTEN.

AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd the Jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whorefon jackan-apes must take me up for fwearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not fpend them at my pleasure.

Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out.

[Afide.

Clot. When a gentleman is difpos'd to fwear, it is not for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. K 5

Ha?

2 Lord.

2 Lord. No, my Lord; nor crop the ears of them.

[Afide.

Clot. Whorefon dog! I give him fatisfaction? 'would, he had been one of my. rank.

2 Lord. To have fmelt like a fool. [Afide. Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth,a pox on't! I had rather not be fo noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, becaufe of the Queen my mother; every Jack-flave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can

match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and a capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. [Afide.

Clot. Say'ft thou?

2 Lord. It is not fit your Lordship fhould undertake every companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. No, I know that; but it is fit I fhould commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your Lordship only.Clot. Why, fo I fay.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a franger that's comes to court to-night?

Clot. A ftranger, and I know not on't?

2 Lord. He's a ftrange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

[Afide. x Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.

Clot. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this firanger? I Lord. One of your Lordship's pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my Lord.

Clot. Not eafily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your iffues being foolish do not derogate.

[Afide Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loft to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come;

go.

a Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

[Exit Clot

That

That fuch a crafty devil, as his mother,

Should yield the world this afs! -a woman, that Bears all down with her brain; and this her fon Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,

And leave eighteen.

Alas, poor Princefs,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep-dame govern'd,.
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
(7) More hateful than the foul expulfion is
Öf thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce held make.

-The heav'ns hold firm

The walls of thy dear honour; keep unfhak'd
That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'ft ftand
Tenjoy thy banish'd Lord, and this great land!

(7) More bateful than the foul Expulfion is

Of thy dear Hufband, than that horrid At

Of the divorce be'll make the Heav'ns bold firm
The Walls of thy dear honour, &c.]

[Exeunt.

What perpetual proofs occur of thefe Editors' ftupid Indolente! They cannot afford even to add, or transpose, a Stop, though the Senfe be never fo much concerned in it. How would Cloten's Sollicitations, if I might ask these wife Gentlemen, make the Heavens keep firm Imogen's Honour? Would the Speaker imply, that this Wooer was fo hateful, worthlefs, a Creature, the Heavens would purpofely keep her honeft in Contempt of him? The Author meant no fuch abfurd Stuff. I dare be pofitive, I have reformed his Pointing, and by that retrieved his true Senfe. "This Wooer, fays the "Speaker, is more hateful to her than the Banishment of her Lord; "or the ne horrid Attempt of making that Banishment perpetual, by

his marrying her in her Lord's abfence.". Having made this Reflexion, he fubjoins a virtuous Wifh, that Heaven may preferve her Honour unblemished, and her to enjoy her Husband back, and her Rights in the Kingdom.