Cleo. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall Cleo. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord. Upon his peril, that I have reserved To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. I had rather seel' my lips, than, to my peril, Cleo. What have I kept back? Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made known. Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes, Good queen, let us entreat you. Cleo. O Cæsar, what a wounding shame is this; To one so meek, that mine own servant should As we greet modern friends withal; and say, 6 With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me Iras. Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Iras. O the good gods! Cleo. Nay, that is certain. Iras. I'll never see it; for, I am sure, my nails Are stronger than mine eyes. Cleo. Show me, my women, like a queen ;-Go fetch To play till dooms-day.-Bring our crown and all. Guard. Here is a rural feilow, That will not be denied your highness' presence; He brings you figs. (9) Beadles. (10) Lively. (11) Female characters were played by boys. (12) Jub of work. Guard. Re-enter Guard, with a Clown bringing a basket. Clown. Truly I have him: but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: how sne died of the biting of it, what pain she felt, -Truly, she makes a very good report o'the worm But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewell. [Clown sets down the basket. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.' Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell. Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, out in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm. Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. Cleo. Will it eat me? Re-enter Iras, with a robe, crown, &c. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.-Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men 4 To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come; It is not worth leave-taking. (1) Inconstant. (2) Serpent. Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that i may say, The gods themselves do weep! Cleo. This proves me base If she first meet the curl'd Antony, He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wreten, [To the asp, which she applies to her breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak! That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass Unpolicied!' Char. Cleo. O eastern star! Peace, peace! O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too :— Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the queen? Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar. O, come; apace, despatch: 1 Guard. Approach, ho! sar's beguil'd. Too slow a messenger. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar ;call him. 1 Guard. What work is here ?-Chemian, is this well done, Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier! Enter Dolabella. Dol. How goes it here? All dead. Dien Cæsar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou So sought's to hinder. [Within.] A way there, way for Cæsar! Enter Cæsar, and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That you did fear, is done. Cas. Bravest at the last: She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way.-The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed. Dol. 1 Guard. A simple figs; This was his basket. Cæs. 1 Guard. Who was last with them? countryman, that brought her Poison'd then. O Cæsar, This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood, and spaket I found her trimming up the diadem. O noble weakness!- Here, on her breast, 1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these leaves passions always interested. The continual hurry This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick fig-succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward without intermission, from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleopatra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, according to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others: the most tumid speech in the play is that which Cæsar makes to Octavia. The events, of which the principal are described according c i.is'oy re produced without any art of connection or rate of fisnosition. JOHNSON. ACT I. SCENE I.-Britain. The garden behind Cym- You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods' He purpos'd to his wife's sole son (a widow, 2 Gent. the That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, 2 Gent. And why so? 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess, is Too bad for bad report: And he that hath her, His measure duly.' 2 Gent. (Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow, (3) My praise, however extensive, is within his mierit. 2 Gent. I honour him Even out of your report. How long is this ago! 1 Gent. Some twenty years. (4) The father of Cymbeline. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con- | You gentle gods, give me but this I have, vey'd ! So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them! 1 Gent. Howsoe'r 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, After the slander of most step-mothers, That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience Post. I will from hence to-day. Queen. Please your highness, You know the peril :I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. Imo. [Exit Queen. O, Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing (Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what His rage can do on me: You must be gone; But that there is this jewel in the world, Post. My queen? my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth My residence in Rome at one Philario's; Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. Queen. Re-enter Queen. Be brief, I pray you: To walk this way: I never do him wrong, Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; Post. That should'st repair my youth: thou heapest Imo. I beseech you, sir, Cym. Imo. Past hope and in despair; that way, past Past grace? obedience? grace. Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my queen; Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. A lustre to it. Сут. Imo. No; I rather added O thou vile one! Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus: Cym. Our neighbour shepherd's son! Re-enter Queen. Cym. Queen. 'Beseech your patience :-Peace. Dear lady daughter, peace;-Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort Nay, let her lar.guish How! how! another ?-A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, (1) Close up. (2) Sensation. (4) A more exquisite feeling. |