Of heaven and men, her purpofes; repented,
The ills fhe hatch'd were not effected; fo,
Despairing, dy'd.

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

Were not in fault, for fhe was beautiful;

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her feeming.

vicious

It had been

To have mistrusted her: yet, oh my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou may'ft say,

And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prifoners 5
Pofthumus behind, and Imogen.

Thou com'ft not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the lofs
Of many a bold one; whofe kinfmen have made fuit,
That their good fouls may be appeas'd with flaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted,
So, think of your estate.

Luc. Confider, 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

threatned

Our prifoners with the fword. But, fince the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ranfom, let it come. Sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can fuffer:
Auguftus 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 him be ranfom'd: never mafter had
A page fo kind, fo duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occafions, true,

of

* So feat, fo nurfe-like. Let his virtue join

With my requeft, which, I'll make bold, your high

nefs

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he hath ferv'd a Roman.-Save him, Sir, And fpare no blood befide.

Cym. I have furely feen him;

His 3 favour is familiar to me.-Boy,

Thou haft look'd thyfelf into my grace, and art
Mine own, I know not why, nor wherefore I fay,
"Live, boy:" ne'er thank thy mafter; live,
And afk of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy ftate, I'll give it:
Yea, though thou do demand a prifoner,
The nobleft ta'en.

Imo. I humbly thank your highness.

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet, I know, thou wilt.

Imo. No, no; alack,

There's other work in hand; I fee a thing
Bitter to me, as death: your life, good mafter,
Muft fhuffle for itself.

Luc. The boy difdains me,

He leaves me, fcorns me: briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys.Why ftands he fo perplex'd?

Cym. What wouldst thou, boy?

I love thee more and more; think more and more, What's best to afk. Know'ft him thou look'ft 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 highnefs; who, being born your
vaffal,

Am fomething nearer.

2 So feat,] So ready; fo dextrous in waiting. JOHNS. favour is familiar— ] I am acquainted with his

3

Countenance. JOHNSON.

Cym. Wherefore eye'ft him fo?

Imo. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention.
best attention.

Imo. Fidele, Sir.

What's thy name?

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?
Arv. 4 One fand another

Not more resembles. That fweet rofy lad,
Who dy'd and was Fidele-what think you?
Guid. The fame dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! fee further; he eyes us not;
forbear;

Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am fure

He would have spoke to us.

Guid. But we faw him dead.

Bel. Be filent; let's fee further.

Pif. 'Tis my mistress :

Since the is living, let the time run on,

[Afide.

To good or bad. [Cymb. and Imogen come forward.
Cym. Come, ftand thou by our fide;

Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, ftep you forth;

To Iachimo

Give anfwer 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 falfhood.On, fpeak to
him.

One fand another

Net more rejembles THAT fweet rofy lad,] A flight corruption has made nonfenfe of this paffage.

another, but none a human form.

One grain might refemble
We should read,

Not more refembles, than he th' fweet rofy lad. WARB. There was no great difficulty in the line, which, when pro

perly 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?

Iach. 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 didft banifh; and (which more may grieve thee,

As it doth me) a nobler fir ne'er liv'd

'Twixt fky and ground.

lord?

Wilt thou hear more, my

Cym. All that belongs to this.

Tach. That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my falfe fpirits
5 Quail to remember,-give me leave; I faint.-
Cym. My daughter! what of her? renew thy
ftrength:

I had rather thou fhouldft live, while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and fpeak.
Iach. Upon a time (unhappy was the clock
That ftruck the hour!) it was in Rome (accurs'd
The manfion where!) 'twas at a feaft (oh, 'would
Our viands had been poifon'd! or at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Pofthumus-
(What should I fay? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the beft of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones) fitting fadly,

5 Quail to remember,-] To quail is to fink into dejection. The word is common to many authors; among the reit, to STANYHURST, in his tranflation of the fecond book of the Eneid:

"With nightly filence was I quail'd, and greatly with horror." STEEVENS.

Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty, that made barren the fwell'd boast
Of him that best could fpeak: 6 for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva,
Poftures, beyond brief nature; for condition,

6

A fhop

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

The fhrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature;

i. e. The ancient ftatues 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 Cleopatra:

"O'er picturing that Venus where we fee

"The fancy out-work_nature.”

It appears, from a number of such paffages as thefe, 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 fur la beauté "de l'antique. Les gens d'efprit qui aiment les beaux arts ont "eftimé dans tous les tems ces merveilleux ouvrages. Nous

66

voyons dans les anciens auteurs quantité de paffages 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 difpute aux ftatuës. Ovid, "où il fait la defcription de Cyllare, le plus beau de Centaures, "dit, Qu'il avoit une fi grande vivacité dans le vifage, que

le col, les épaules, les mains, & l'eftomac en etoient fi "beaux qu'on pouvoit affurer qu'en tout ce qu'il avoit de l' "homme c'etoit la meme beauté que l'on remarque dans les

ftatues les plus parfaites."-Et Philoftrate, parlant de la beauté de Neoptoleme, & de la refemblance qu'il avoit avec fon pere Achille, dit, Qu'en beauté fon pere avoit autant "d'avantage fur lui que les ftatues en ont fur les beaux

66

hommes. Les auteurs modernes ont fuivi ces mêmes fenti"mens fur la beauté de l' Antique."Je reporterai feulement celui de Scaliger. "Le Moyen (dit il) que nous puiflions rien

voir qui aproche de la perfection des belles ftatues, puifqu'il "eft permis à l'art de choifir, de retrancher, d'adjoûter, "de diriger, & qu'au contrarie, la nature s'eft toujours "alterée depuis la creation du premier homme en qui Dicu joignit la beauté de la forme à celle de l'innocence." This

laft