Imo. Fools cure not mad folks. If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; T'accufe myself, I hate you: which I had rather Clot. You fin against 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 If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad 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; Imo. Prophane fellow ! 31 ; Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more 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, Enter Pifanio. Clot. His garment? now, the devil Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee prefently. Imo. I am fprighted with a fool, Frighted, and angred worfe-go, bid my woman. Hath left mine arm-it was thy mafter's. Of any King in Europe. I do think, Last night 'twas on my arm; I kiffed it.. 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, To th' worft of difcontent. 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, Will do's commiffion throughly. And, I think, (9) Poft. I do believe, (Statift though I am none, nor like to be,) That this fhall prove a war; and you shall hear He' il grant the Tribute, fend th' Arrearages, 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 Now mingled with their courages, will make known 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. 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 Iach. If I've loft it, I should have loft the worth of it in gold; Your lady being so easy.han Văn Chudlu, buid Poft Poft. Make not, Sir, Your lofs your fport; I hope, you know, that we lach. Good Sir, we muft, If you keep covenant; had I not brought Poft. If you can make't apparent That you have tafted her in bed; my hand, f Iach. Sir, my circumftances Being for near the truth, as I will make them, Post. Proceed. Iach. First, her bed-chamber, (Where, I confefs, I flept not; but profefs, A piece of work So bravely done, fo rich, that it did ftrive 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. |