Imo. Fools cure not mad folks.
Clot. Do you call me fool?
Imo. As I am mad, I do:

If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad;
That cures us both. I am much forry, Sir,
You put me to forget a lady's manners
By being fo verbal; and learn now for all,
That I, who know my heart, do here pronounce
By th' very truth of it, I care not for you:
And am fo near the lack of charity

T'accufe myself, I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, than make
my boaft.

Clot. You fin against
Obedience, which you owe your

father; for The contract you pretend with that base wretch, (One, bred of alms, and fofter'd with cold dishes, With fcraps o'th' court,) it is no contract, none: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties, (Yet who than he, more mean?) to knit their fouls (On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary,) in felf-figur'd knot; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The confequence o'th' crown; and muft not foil The precious note of it with a base slave,

puzzled to find it out, as the Text ftands.' The reasoning is per plexed in a flight Corruption; and we must restore, as Mr. Warburten likewife faw,

Il Fools cure not Madfolks.

You are mad, fays he, and it would be a Crime in me to leave you
to yourself. Nay, fays the, why fhould you ftay? A Fool
never cured Madness,
Do you call me Fool? replies he, &c.
All this is eafy and natural. And that cure was certainly the Poet's
Word, I think, is very evident from what Imogen immediately sub-
joins.

If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad
That cures us both.

i. e. If you'll cease to torture me with your foolish Sollicitations I'll ceafe to fhew towards you any thing like Madness: so a double eure will be affected, of your Folly, and my fuppofed Frenzy.

A hilding

A hilding for a livery, a fquire's cloth;
A pantler; not fo eminent.-

Imo. Prophane fellow ! 31 ;

Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more
But what thou art befides, thou wert too bafe
To be his groom: thou wert dignify'd enough,
Ev'n to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues, to be ftil'd
The under-hangman of his realm; and hated
For being preferr'd fo well.

Clot The fouth-fog rot him!

Imo. He never can meet more mifchance, than come To be but nam'd of thee. His meaneft garment, That ever hath but clipt his body, 's dearer

In my refpect, than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made fuch men. How now, Pifanio?

Enter Pifanio.

Clot. His garment? now, the devil

Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee prefently.
Clotment?

Imo. I am fprighted with a fool,

Frighted, and angred worfe-go, bid my woman.
Search for a jewel, that too cafually

Hath left mine arm-it was thy mafter's.
If I would lose it for a revenue

Of any King in Europe. I do think,
I faw't this morning; confident I am,

Last night 'twas on my arm; I kiffed it..
I hope, it be not gone, to tell

That I kifs ought but him.

Pif. 'Twill not be lost.

my Lord

Imo. I hope fo; go, and search..

Clot. You have abus'd me

His meanest garment?

Imo. Ay, I faid fo, Sir;

'Shrew me

If you will make't an action, call witness to't.

Clot. I will inform your father.

Imo. Your mother too;

She's

She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, Sir,

To th' worft of difcontent.
Clot. I'll be reveng'd,-

His meaneft garment?

well.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Poft F

Enter Pofthumus, and Philario.

Ear it not, Sir; I would, I were fo fure To win the King, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers.

Phil. What means do you make to him }

Poft. Not any, but abide the change of time; Quake in the prefent winter's ftate, and wish,

That warmer days would come; in these fear'd hopea, I barely gratify your love; they failing,

I muft 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 Auguftus; Caius Lucius

Will do's commiffion throughly. And, I think, (9)
He'll grant the tribute; fend th' arrearages, i
E'er look upon our Romans, whofe remembrance
Is yet, fresh in their grief.

Poft. I do believe,

(Statift though I am none, nor like to be,)

That this fhall prove a war; and you shall hear
The legions, now in Gallia, fooner landed

He' il grant the Tribute, fend th' Arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whofe Remembrance
Is yet fresh in their Grief]

What a ftrange loofe Inference do the Editors here make Philario guilty of, that Cymbeline would do one Thing, or t'other; either fubmit to pay Tribute, or difpute the Demand 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 Britains would pay, 'er they would conteft the Matter:. and fo I have reformed the Text,

In

In our not-fearing Britaine, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæfar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy of frowning at. Their difcipline,

Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers, they are people fuch
As mend upon the world.

Phil. See, lachimo.

Enter Iachimo.

Poft. Sure, the fwift harts have pofted you by land, And winds of all the corners kifs'd your fails,

To make your veffel nimble.

Phil. Welcome, Sir.

Pof. I hope, the briefnefs of your answer made The fpeedinefs of your return.

Iach. Your lady

Is of the farreft I e'er look'd upon.

Poft. And, therewithal, the beft; or let her beauty Look through a cafement to allure falfe hearts,

And be falfe with them..

lach. Here are letters for you.

Poft. The tenour good, I truft.
Iach. "Tis very like.

Poft. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court,

When you were there?

Iach. He was expected then,

But not approach'd.

Poft. All is well yet.

Sparkles this tone as it was wont, or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing'?

Iach. If I've loft it,

I should have loft the worth of it in gold;
I'll make a journey twice as far,' t'enjoy
A fecond night of fuch fweet fhortnefs, which
Was mine in Britaine for the ring is won,
Poft. The ftone's too hard to come by.
Iach. Not a whit,

Your lady being so easy.han Văn Chudlu, buid

Poft

Poft. Make not, Sir,

Your lofs your fport; I hope, you know, that we
Muft not continue friends.

lach. Good Sir, we muft,

If you keep covenant; had I not brought
The knowledge of your miftrefs 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
Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.

Poft. If you can make't apparent

That you have tafted her in bed; my hand,
And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains, or lofes
Your fword or mine; or masterless leaves both
To who fhall find them.

f

Iach. Sir, my circumftances

Being for near the truth, as I will make them,
Muft firft induce you to believe; whofe ftrength
I will confirm with oath, which, I doubt not,
You'll give me leave to fpare, when you shall find
You need it not.

Post. Proceed.

Iach. First, her bed-chamber,

(Where, I confefs, I flept not; but profefs,
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With tapestry of filk and filver; the ftory
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus fwell'd above the banks, or for
The prefs of boats, or pride:

A piece of work

So bravely done, fo rich, that it did ftrive
In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd,
Could be fo 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 fome other.

Iach. More particulars

Moft juftify my knowledge, or

Peft.