Guid. Fear no more the lightning-flash.
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-ftone.
Guid. 5 Fear not flander, cenfure rash.
Arv. Thou haft finish'd joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
6 Confign to thee, and come to duft.

Guid. No exorcifer harm thee!

Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghost, unlaid, forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet confummation have;
And renowned be thy grave! 7

Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.

Guid. We have done our obfequies: come, lay him down.

Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about midnight,

more:

The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the night,
Are ftrewings fitt'ft for graves.-Upon their faces:-
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even fo

These herb'lets fhall, which we upon you ftrow.
Come on, away. Apart upon our knees.

-The ground, that gave them firft, has them again:
Their pleasure here is paft, fo is their pain. [Exeunt.

s Fear not flander, &c.] Perhaps,

Fear not flander's cenfure rafh. JOHNSON.
-] Perhaps,

6

Confign to thee,

Confign to this.

And in the former ftanza, for all follow this, we might read, all follow thee. JOHNSON.

7 For the obfequies of Fidele, a fong was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and abilities. I fhall give it a place at the end in honour of his memory. JOHNSON.

Imogen.

Imogen, awaking.

Imo. Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?

I thank you.

thither?

By yon' bufh?-Pray, how far

'Ods pittikins! can it be fix mile yet?

deffes!

I have gone all night :-'Faith I'll lie down and fleep. But, foft! no bedfellow:-Oh gods, and god[Seeing the body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't.-I hope, I dream; For fo I thought, I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honeft creatures. But 'tis not fo: 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes.

Our very eyes

Are fometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble ftill with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods! a part of it!
The dream's here ftill: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!-The garments of Pofthumus!
I know the shape of his leg; this is his hand,
His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh;

The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven? how!-'tis gone!

Pifanio!

All curfes madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,

9

S'Ods pittikins!] This diminutive adjuration is used by Decker and Webfter in Weftward Hoe, 1607. STEEVENS. bis jovial face-] Jovial face fignifies in this place, fuch a face as belongs to Jove. It is frequently used in the fame fenfe by other old dramatic writers. So Heywood, in The Silver Age,

66

Alcides here will stand,

To plague you all with his high jovial hand."

And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou
Confpir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Haft here cut off my lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treach'rous !- -Damn'd Pifanio,

Hath with his forged letters-damn'd Pifanio!-
From this the braveft veffel of the world

Struck the main-top! Oh, Pofthumus, alas, Where is thy head? where's that? ah me, where's that?

Pifanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,

And left this head on. How should this be?

Pifanio?

'Tis he and Cloten.

Have laid this woe here.

Malice and lucre in them

Oh, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which, he faid, was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it

Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home;
This is Pifanio's deed, and Cloten's: oh!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may feem to those
Which chance to find us: oh, my lord! my lord!

Enter Lucius, Captains, and a Soothsayer,

Cap. To them, the legions garrifon'd in Gallia, After your will, have crofs'd the fea, attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your fhips: They are in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The fenate hath ftirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; moft willing spirits, That promife noble fervice; and they come

Confpir'd with, &c.] The old copy reads thus,
thou

Confpir'd with that irregulous divel, Cloten.

I fuppofe it should be,

Confpir'd with th' irreligious devil, Cloten. JOHNS,

Under

Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Syenna's brother.

Luc. When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers

Be mufter'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, Sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpofe?

Sooth.

Laft night the very gods fhew'd me a vision:

(I faft, and pray'd for their intelligence.) Thus:I faw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the fpungy South to this part of the West, There vanish'd in the fun-beams: which portends, (Unless my fins abufe my divination)

Succefs to the Roman hoft.

Luc. Dream often fo,

And never falfe!-Soft, ho! what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin fpeaks, that fometime It was a worthy building. How! a page!-Or dead, or fleeping on him? but dead, rather: For nature doth abhor to make his couch

With the defunct, or fleep upon the dead.
Let's fee the boy's face.

Cap. He is alive, my lord,

2

Laft night the VERY gods fhew'd me a vifion:] The very gods may, indeed, fignify the gods themselves immediately, and not by the intervention of other agents or inftruments; yet I am perfuaded the reading is corrupt, and that Shakespeare wrote,

Last night, the wAREY gods

Warey here fignifying, animadverting, forewarning, ready to give notice; not, as in its more ufual meaning, cautious, referved. WARBURTON.

Of this meaning I know not any example, nor do I fee any need of alteration. It was no common dream, but fent from the very gods, or the gods themselves. JOHNSON.

Luc. He'll then inftruct us of this body.-Young

one,

Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it feems,
They crave to be demanded: who is this,
Thou mak'ft thy bloody pillow? Or, 3 who was he,
That, otherwife than noble nature did,

Who is it?

Hath alter'd that good figure? What's thy intereft
In this fad wreck? How came it?
What art thou?

66

That, otherwife than noble nature did,

Hath alter'd that goed picture?--- -1 The editor, Mr. THEOBALD, Cavils at this paffage. He fays, it is far from being frisly grammatical; and yet, what is ftrange, he fubjoins a paraphrafe of his own, which fhews it to be frialy grammatical. For, fays he, the conftruction of these words is this: who hath alter'd that good picture otherwife than "nature alter'd it?" I fuppofe then this editor's meaning was, that the grammatical conftruction would not conform to the fenfe; for a bad writer, like a bad man, generally fays one thing and means another. He fubjoining, Shakespeare de"figned to fay (if the text be genuine) Who hath alter'd that good picture from what noble nature at firft made it." Here again he is mistaken; Shakespeare meant, like a plain man, just as he spoke; and as our editor first paraphrased him, Who hath alter'd that good picture otherwife than nature alter'd it? And the folution of the difficulty in this fentiment, which fo much perplexed him, is this: the fpeaker fees a young man without a head, and confequently much shorten'd in ftature; on which he breaks out into this exclamation; Who hath alter'd this good form, by making it fhorter; fo contrary to the practice of nature, which by yearly acceflion of growth alters it by making it taller. No occafion then for the editor to change did into bid, with an allufion to the command against murder; which then fhould have been forbid inftead of bid. WARB.

Here are many words upon a very flight debate. The fenfe is not much cleared by either critic. The question is asked, not about a body, but a picture, which is not very apt to grow fhorter or longer. To do a picture, and a picture is well done, are ftanding phrafes; the question therefore is, Who has altered this picture, fo as to make it otherwife than nature did it.

JOHNSON.