For Beauty, that made barren the fwell'd Boast Loves woman for; befides that hook of wiving, Cym. I ftand on fire. Come to the matter. Iach. All too foon I fhall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.This Pofthumus, (Moft like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover) took his hint; And, not difpraifing whom we prais'd, (therein His miftrefs' picture; which by his tongue being made, Were crack'd-of kitchen-trulls, or his defcription Prov'd us unfpeaking fots. Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose. Tach. Your daughter's chastity; there it begins: He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, In fuit the place of's bed, and win this ring, Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring; Of him that beft could speak; for Feature, laming As plaufible as this Reading may appear at firit View, I dare fay, it is flightly corrupted. What! did they praise their Miftreffes for Beauty, and for Feature too? The Symmetry of Features is always one main part of Beauty. Then why fhould Features be faid to lame a Statue, or the Poftures of a well-built Goddess? We must certainly restore This agrees perfectly well with, laming, ftrait-pight, and Poftures: and fo the Lady is prais'd for her Beauty, her Shape, and her Temper of Mind. Gg 4 Of Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it Moft vilely for my vantage excellent ; By wounding his belief in her renown, [Coming forward. Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft, That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend, Be villainy less than 'twas! Oh Imogen! Imo. Peace, my lord, hear, hear Thou Thou scornful page, there lie thy part. Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help, Mine, and your mistress [Striking her, fhe falls. Oh, my lord Pofthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now Mine honour'd lady Cym. Does the world go round? help, help, Poft. How come these staggers on me? Pif. Wake, my mistress! Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to ftrike me To death with mortal joy. Pif. How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my fight; Thou gav'ft me poison: dang'rous fellow, hence! Cym. The tune of Imogen! Pif. Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the Queen. Cym. New matter ftill? Imo. It poifon'd me. Cor. Oh Gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd, Cym. What's this, Cornelius? Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock, and now Throw me again. Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die! Cym. How now, my flesh? my child? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? Imo. Your Bleffing, Sir. [Kneeling. [To Guid. Arvir. Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not, You had a motive for't. Cym. My tears, that fall, Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Imo. I'm forry for't, my lord. Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pif. My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll fpeak truth. Lord Cloten, With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore, Guid. Let me end the story; I flew him there. Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend! I would not, thy good deeds fhould from my lips Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a Prince. Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs, he did me, Were Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me And am right glad, he is not ftanding here Cym. I'm forry for thee; By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Imo. That headless man Bel. Stay, Sir King, This man is better than the man he flew, As well defcended as thy felf; and hath More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for.- Let his arms alone; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage. Cym. Why, old Soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, As good as we? Arv. In that he spake too far. But I will prove, that two on's are as good Arv. Your danger's ours. Guid. And our Good, his. Bel. Have at it then, by leave: Thou hadft, great King, a Subject, who was call'd Belarius. Cym. What of him? a banish'd traitor. Bel. He it is, that hath Affum'd this age; indeed, a banish'd man; Cym. Take him hence, The whole world fhall not fave him. Bel. Not too hot : First pay me for the nurfing of thy Sons; And |