Whom thou didst banish; and (which more, may

grieve thee, As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my

lord ? Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach.

That paragon, thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember,--Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her ? Renew thy

strength : I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O’would Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to head !) the good Posthumus, (What should I say? he was too good, to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Among'st the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swellid boast Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming. The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye: Cym.

I stand on fire: Come to the matter. Iach.

All too soon I shall, Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.—This Posthu

mus, (Most like a noble lord in love, and one

Quail to remember,] To quail is to sink into dejection.

That had a royal lover,) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais’d, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress picture ; which by his tongue being

made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.
Сут.

Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Tach. Your daughter's chastity. There it begins,
He spake of her as Diano had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch !
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him.
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery : he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent ;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return’d with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes

Of chamber-hanging pictures, this her bracelet,
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,
Methinks, I see him now,
Post.

Ay, so thou dost,"

Coming forward. Italian fiend !Ah me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer!5 Thou, king, send out For tortures ingenious : it is I That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend, i By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, i. That kili'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie; That caus'd a lesser villain than myself, .. A sacrilegious thief, to do't :-the temple . Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself

! Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set . The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain Be callid, Posthumnus Leonatus; and Be villainy less than 'twas !-O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, . Imogen, Imogen! Imo.

Peace, my lord; hear, heari Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful

page, There lie thy part. [Striking her : she falls. Pis.

O, gentlemen, help, help Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthumus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now :-Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!
Cym.'

Does the world go round?
Post. How come these staggers? on me?
Pis.

Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
: Pis.

How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison : dangerous fellow, hence ! Breathe not where princes are. Cym.

The tune of Imogen!
Pis. Lady,
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; I had it from the queen.

Cym. New matter still ? .
Imo.

It poison'd me.
Cor.

O Gods !
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd,
Which must approve thec honest: If Pisanio
Have, said she, given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.
Суп.

What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions.--Have you ta'en of it?

7- these staggers-] This wild and delirious perturbation. Staggers is the horse's apoplexy.

you?

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel.
There was our error.
Gui.

This is sure, Fidele.
Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from
Think, that you are upon a rock ;8 and now
Throw me again.

[Embracing him. Post.

Hang there like fruit, my soul,

Fans le
Till the tree die!
Сут,

How now, my flesh, my
What, mak'st thou me a dullardo in this acts
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo.

Your blessing, sir.

Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame

ye not ; You had a motive for't.

GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS,
Cym.

My tears, that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
Imo.

I am sorry fort, my lord.
Cym. 0, she was naught; and 'long of her it was,
That we meet here so strangely: But her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor-where.
Pis.

My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and

swore,

With his swords missing, came to me: Lord Cloten,

Think, that you are upon a rock 1] In this speech, or in the answer, there is little meaning. Perhaps, she would say,-Cond sider such another act as equally fatal to me with precipitation from a rock, and now let me see whether you will repeat it.

-a dullard-] In this place means a person stupidly un. .concerned.

VOL, VIII.

K