That acts my words. The younger brother,
Cadwal,

(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!—
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reft st me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their
mother,

And every day do honour to her
grave :
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The
game is up.
[Exit.

SCENE IV.-Near Milford-Haven.

Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place

Was near at hand:-Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now :-Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthumus ? What is in thy mind
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks
that sigh

From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Into a 'haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that to
paper me, with

A look untender? If it be summer news,b
Smile to 't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.-My husband's

hand!

'To his protection; calls him Posthumus'— 'Struck the main-top!-O, Posthumus! alas !"" Both these critics knew perfectly well that all the poets of Shakspere's age were in the habit of changing the accentuation of proper names, to suit their versification; and that learning or no learning had nothing to do with the matter. b Summer-news. Our poet has the same idea in his 98th Sonnet

"Yet not the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell."

Pis.

Please you read ; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed: the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at MilfordHaven she hath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.'

Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword?

Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world,-kings, queens, and
states,

Maids, matrons,—nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.-What cheer, madam ?

Imo. False to his bed! What is it to be false?

To lie in watch there, and to think on him?
To
weep
'twixt olock and clock? if sleep charge
nature,

To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry nyself awake? that's false to his bed?
Is it ?

a Some jay of Italy, &c. The Italian putta has a double meaning. The jay of Italy is the "Roman courtezan," as well as the painted bird. This is one of the many proofs of Shakspere's acquaintance with the Italian. But how shall we explain the original reading, "whose mother was her painting?" Johnson says, "the creature not of nature but of painting. In this sense painting may be not improperly termed her mother." Steevens, in illustration of this, gives a quotation from an old comedy:-"A parcel of conceited feather-caps, whose fathers were their garments.' The reading of the original, on the authority of the Corrector of the folio of 1632, has been changed by Mr. Collier to "Some jay of Italy,

Who smothers her with painting, hath betray'd him." Mr. Collier, in his admiration of the correction, hazards the assertion, that "genuine passion avoids figures of speech." Certainly Shakspere is not an example of this proposition. Although the original passage may be obscure, it contains a strong poetical image. The correction is prosaic enough to suit any Shakspere made Easy.

Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,

I must be ripp'd:"-to pieces with me !—O, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,

By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villainy; not born where 't grows,
But worn, a bait for ladies.

Pis.

Good madam, hear me. Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Eneas,

Were, in his time, thought false: and Sinon's weeping

Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Post-
húmus,

Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd,
From thy great fail.-Come, fellow, be thou
honest:

Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou see'st him

A little witness my obedience: Look!

I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 't is empty of all things but grief:
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seem'st a coward.

And make me put into contempt the suit
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think when thou shalt be disedg'd by her
That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Prithee, despatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy
knife?

Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Pis.

O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business,
I have not slept one wink.
Imo.

Do 't, and to bed then.
Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first."
Imo.
Wherefore then

Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent; whereunto I never
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far
To be unbent when thou has ta'en thy stand,
The elected deer before thee?

Pis.
But to win time
To lose so bad employment: in the which
I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo.

Talk thy tongue weary; speak: I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear, Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.

Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my
husband?
Pis.
If you'll back to the court,-
Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing:
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
Pis.

If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
Imo.

Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it; In a great pool, a swan's nest. There's livers out of Britain.

Pis.

Prithee, think

I am most glad
You think of other place. The ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: Now, if you could
wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is - and but disguise
That which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger;-you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus: so nigh, at least,
That, though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo.
O, for such means!
Though peril to my modesty, not death on 't,
I would adventure.

Pis.

Well then, here's the point : You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience; fear, and niceness, (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage; Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrellous as the weasel; nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! Alack no remedy!) to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan: and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. Imo.

Nay, be brief:
I see into thy cud, and am almost

A man already.
Pis.
First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit,
("Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make him
know,

If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means
abroad,a

You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo.

Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away : There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even All that good time will give us : This attempt I'm soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I prithee.

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell;

Lest, being miss'd, 'I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box: I had it from the queen;
What's in 't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper.-To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood:-May the gods
Direct you to the best!
Imo.

:

Amen I thank thee. [Exeunt. SCENE V.—A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, Lucius, and Lords.

Cym. Thus far; and so farewell.

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,

Till he have cross'd the Severn.-Happiness! [Excunt LUCIUS and Lords. Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honours us

That we have given him cause.

Clo. 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore, ripely, Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia

Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he

That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make.
Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her.
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity,
She should that duty leave unpaid to you,
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this
She wish'd me to make known; but our great
court

Made me to blame in memory.

Cym. Her door's lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear Prove false ! Queen.

[Exit.

Son, I say, follow the king.

[SCENE V.

Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen.

Go, look after.-
[Exit CLOTEN.
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!-
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd
her;

Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd Posthumus: Gone she is
To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either: She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.
Re-enter CLOten.

Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis. Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know 't.Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,—that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly,I would think thee an honest man; thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

She

thee.-I would these garments were come. said upon a time (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart), that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined (which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised), to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my

revenge.

Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes.

Be those the garments ?

Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is 't since she went to MilfordHaven?

Pis. She can scarce be there yet.

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee; the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford: 'Would I had wings to follow it!-Come, and be true. [Exil. Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee

Were to prove false, which I will never be
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow,

flow,

You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness: labour be his meed! [Exit.

SCENE VI.-Before the Cave of Belarius.
Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes.

Imo. I see a man's life is a tedious one:

I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.-Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd

thee,

Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars

told me

I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 't is