Imatges de pàgina
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(As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Muft 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 sheets?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your despight, upon your purse? Revenge it:
I dedicate my felf 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!

Fach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips. Imo. Away, I do condemn mine ears, that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou would't 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 Sollicit'ft here a Lady, that difdains

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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 fawcy Stranger in his Court to mart
As in a Romish Stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us; he hath a Court
He little cares for, and a Daughter whom
He not respects at all. What hó, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay;
The credit, that thy Lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy truft, and thy moft perfect goodness
Her affur'd credit! bleffed live you long,
A Lady to the worthieft Sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his Mistress, only
For the moft worthieft fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if
your affiance

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

Half

Half all mens hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

Iach. He fits 'mongst men, like, a defcended God; He hath a kind of honour fets him off, More than a mortal Seeming. 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 bear 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'r i'th' Court for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks; I had almost forgot
T' intreat your Grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; my felf, and other noble friends
Are partners in the bufinefs.

Imo. Pray, what is't?

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

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

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath int'rest 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 send them to you, only for this night;

I must aboard to morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

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

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I croft the feas on purpose, and on promise
To fee your Grace.
Imo. I thank you for
But not away to morrow?

your pains;

Iach. O, I muft, Madam.

Therefore I fhall befeech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to night.
I have outstood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our Present.

Imo. I will write:

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

[Exe.

ACT II.

SCENE, CYMBELINE's Palace.

W

Enter Cloten, and two lords.

CLOTEN..

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

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

[afide.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out. Clot. When a gentleman is difpos'd to fwear, it is not for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. 2 Lord. No, my lord: nor crop the ears

Ha?

of them. [afide.

Glot.

1

Clot. Whorfon dog! I give him fatisfaction? would, he had been one of my Rank.

2 Lord. To have fmelt like a fool.

f

Cafide.

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, because 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.

Clot. Say'ft thou?

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1 [afide.

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.

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2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only.

Clot. Why, fo I fay

謹。

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to

Court to night?

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

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

not.

Lafide. 1 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 stranger?, 1 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....

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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.

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2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

That fuch a crafty devil, as is his mother,

[Exit Clot

Should yield the world this afs!-a woman, that

Bears

Bears all down with her brain; and this her fon
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor Princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep-dame govern'd,
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
(12) More hateful than the foul expulfion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act

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Of the divorce he'ld make. The heav'ns hold firm
The walls of thy dear Honour; keep unshak'd
That Temple thy fair Mind; that thou may'ft stand
T'enjoy thy banish'd Lord, and this great Land!

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a magnificent Bed-chamber ; in one part of it, a large trunk.

Imogen is discover'd reading in her bed, a Lady attending.

Imo:

WHO's there? my woman Helen?

Lady. Please you, Madam

Imo. What hour is it?

Lady. Almoft midnight, Madam.

Imo. I have read three hours then, mine eyes are

weak,

Fold down the leaf where I have left; to bed

(12) More hatefull than the foul Expulfion is

Of thy dear Husband, than that horrid Act
Of the divorce

be'll make the Heav'ns hold firm The Walls of thy dear honour, &c.] What perpetual Proofs occur of thefe Editors' ftupid Indolence! They cannot afford even to add, or tranfpofe, a Stop, tho' the Senfe be never fo much concern'd 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 purposely keep her honeft in Contempt of him? The Author meant no fuch abfurd Stuff. I dare be pofitive, I have reform'd his Pointing, and by That retriev'd his true Senfe. "This Wooer, fays the Speaker, is << more hateful to her than the Banishment of her Lord; or the horrid Attempt of making that Banishment perpetual, by his marrying her "in her Lord's Abfence." Having made this Reflexion, he subjoins a virtuous With, that Heaven may preferve her Honour unblemish'd, and her to enjoy her Husband back, and her Rights in the Kingdom.

VOL. VI.

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