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Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented,
The ills she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, dy'd.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women ?
Lady. We did, so please your highness.

Cym. Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her fattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming. It had been

To have mistrusted her: yet, oh my daughter !
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all !

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prisoners ;

Posthumus bebind, and Imogen.

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Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute ; that
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit,
That their good souls may be appeas'd with Naughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted;
So, think of your estate.

Luc. Consider, Sir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cold, have

Our prisoners with the sword. But, since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come. Sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't; and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born,
Let hiin be ransom'd never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,



2 So feat, so nurse-like. Let his virtue join With my request, which, I'll make bold, your high

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he hath serv'd a Roman.-Save him, Sir,
And spare no blood beside.

Cym. I have surely seen him;
His 3 favour is familiar to me. - Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, and art
Mine own, I know not why, nor wherefore I say,
Live, boy:" ne'er thank thy master ; live,
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy ftate, I'll give it:
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta'en.

Imo. I humbly thank your highness.

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;

yet, I know, thou wilt.
Imo. No, no; alack,
There's other work in hand; I see a thing
Bitter to me, as death: your life, good master,
Must shume for itself.

Luc. The boy disdains me,
He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys,
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.“
Why stands he so perplex'd ?

Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more, What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'it on ?

speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, Than I to your highness; who, being born your

vassal, Am something nearer. * So feat,-) So ready; so dextrous in waitingJohns.

favour is fumiliar -] I am acquainted with his countenance. JOHNSON. T 2



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Cym. Wherefore eye'st him so ?
Imo. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if

if you please To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely.

[Cymbeline and Imogen walk afide. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?

Aru. 4 One sand another
Not more resembles. That sweet rosy lad,
Who dy'd and was Fidele—what think you?

Guid. The same dead thing alive.
Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not ;

Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.

Guid. But we saw him dead.
Bel. Be filent; let's see further.
Pis. 'Tis my mistress:

[-Afide. Since she is living, let the time run on, To good or bad. (Cymb. and Imogen come forward.

Cym. Come, stand thou by our fide;
Make thy demand aloud.—Sir, step you forth ;

To lacbimo
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from fallhood.-On, speak to


* One fand another

Net more rejembles THAT sweet rosy lad,] A light corruption has made nonsense of this paisage. One grain might resemble another, but none a human form. We should read,

Not more resembles, thun he th' sweet rofy lad. WARB. There was no great difficulty in the line, whích, when properly pointed, needs no alteration. JOHNSON.

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.

Poft. What's that to him?

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?

Iach. Thoul't torture me to leave unspoken that, Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

Cym. How? me?

Tach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring ; 'twas Leonatus' jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may

grieve thee, As it doth me) a nobler fir 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 5 Quail to remember,-give me leave; I faint.Cym. My daughter! what of her ? renew thy

strength: I had rather thou shouldst 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 (oh, '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 Amongst the rar'st of good ones) sitting fadly,

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Quail to remember,-) To quuil is to sink into dejection. The word is common to many authors; among the reit, to STINYHURST, in his translation of the second book of the Æneid:

With nightly filence was I quaild, and greatly with “ horror.' STEEVENS.


T 3

Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty, that made barren the swelld boast
Of him that best could speak: 6 for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures, beyond brief nature; for condition,

A shop


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- for feature, laming] Feature for proportion of parts, which Mr. Theobald not understanding, would alter to ftature.

for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,

Postures beyond brief nature;
j.e. The ancient statues of Venus and Minerva, which exceeded,
in beauty of exact proportion, any living bodies, the work of
brief nature ; i. e. of hafty, unelaborate nature. He gives the
fame character of the beauty of the antique in Antony and

O'er picturing that Venus where we see

The fancy out-work nature.It appears, from a number of such passages as these, that our author was not ignorant of the fine arts. A paffage in De Piles' Cours de Peinture par Principes will give great light to the beauty of the text.--" Peu de jentimens ont été partagez sur la beauté de l'antique. Les gens d'esprit qui aiment les beaux arts ont " estimé dans tous les tems ces merveilleux ouvrages. Nous

voyons dans les anciens auteurs quantité de pasages ou pour “ louer les beautez vivantes on les comparoit aux itatuës.” " Ne vous imaginez (dit Maxime de Tyr) de pouvoir jamais

trouver une beauté naturelle, qui le dispute aux ftatuës. Ovid, il fait la description de Cyllare, le plus beau de Centaures, “ dit, Qu'il avoit une fi grande vivacité dans le visage, que “ le col, les épaules, les mains, & l'estomac en etoient fi “ beaux qu'on pouvoit allurer qu'en tout ce qu'il avoit de l' “ homme c'etoit la meme beauté que l'on remarque dans les “ statues les plus parfaites.”—Et Philcitrate, parlant de la beauté de Neoptoleme, & de la resemblance qu'il avoit avec fon pere Achille, dit, Qu'en beauté son pere avoit autant “ d'avantage sur lui que les ftatuis en ont sur les beaux “ hommes. Les auteurs modernes ont suivi ces mêines renti, “ mens sur la beauté de l'Antique." Je reporterai seulement celui de Scaliger. Le Moyen (dit il) que nous puissions rien " voir qui aproche de la perfection des belles ftatuës, puisqu'il “ est permis à i'art de choisir, de retrancher, d'adjouter, “ de diriger,

& qu'au contrarie, la nature s'est toujours " alterée depuis la creation du premier homme en qui Dicu s jeignit la beauté de la forme à celle de l'innocence.” This


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