"Like beasts, which you shun beaftly, and may fave "But to look back in frown: ftand, and."-These three, ansmod care.

Three thousand confident, in act as many; (For three performers are the file, when all The reft do ft do nothings) with this word, ftand, stand, Accommodated by the place, (more charming

With their own Nobleness, which could have turn'd A diftaff to a lance) gilded pale looks;

Part, fhame, part, fpirit-renewide that fome, turn'd coward heon 10

But by example, (oh, a fin in swat,

Damn'd in the first, beginners!)'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o'th' hunters Then began
A ftop i'th chafer, a retire; anon,

A rout, confufion thick. Forthwith they flic
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles: flaves,
The ftrides they victors made; and now our cowards,
Like fragments in hard voyages, became

The life o'th' need; having found the back door open
Of the unguarded hearts, heav'ns, how they wound
fome, their friends
O'er-born i'th' former wave; ten, chac'd by one,
Are now each one the flaughter-man of twenty;
Thofe, that would die or-ere refift, are grown
The mortal bugs o'th' field.

Some flain before, fome dying,

Lord. This was ftrange chance,

A narrow lanet lane! an

old man, and two boys! Pet Nay, do but wonder at it; you are made (51) Rather to wonder at the things you hear,

Than to work any Will you rhime upon't?

-(51) Nay, do not swonder at it; you are made

Rather to wonder at the Things you hear,

Than to work any.]*

Sure, this is mock-reafoning with a Vengeance. What! Because he was made fitter to wonder at great Actions, than to perform any, is he therefore forbid, to wonder? I corrected the Paffage in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE Reford; and Mr. Pope has follow'd my Correction in his laft Edition.

And

And vent it for a mockery? here is one:
"Two boys, an old man, (twice a boy,) a lane,
Preferv'd the Britains, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, Sir.

Poft, Lack! to what end?

Who dares not ftand his foe, I'll be his friend;
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,

I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhymes.

Lord. Farewel, you are angry.

[Exit.

Poft. This is a lord-oh noble mifery, To be i'th' field, and ask what news, of me! To day, how many would have given their honours To've fav'd their carkaffes? took heel to do't, And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him, where he ftruck. This ugly monster, 'Tis ftrange he hides him in fresh cups, foft beds, Sweet words; or hath more minifters than we That draw his knives i'th' war

Well, I will find

For

This is a very obfcure Paffage; and, without the Helps it would receive from the Reprefentation, wants a little clearing up. Pofthumus comes over with the Roman Bands; but, refolv'd not to fight against his Country, he puts the Habit of a British Peafant over his Italian Drefs, and does Feats of Defperation againft the Romans, in hopes of meeting his Death from their Swords. The Fortune of the Day is turn'd, and the Britons gain the Field. Upon this, Pofthumus fhifts back into his Italian Garb; fays, he will find Death; for tho' he's now a Favourer, to the Britons in Heart, he'll not confefs himself of that Country, but yield himself a Prifoner to the meaneft of the Victorparty, and fo fall a Sacrifice to their Refentment. For the Captives,

we find, in the Sequel of the Play, were by the Customs of the
Britons to be Victims to the Manes of those flain on the Victors Party,
That Pofthumus does again fhift his Habit, is evident from this Circum-
ftance. The Britons furprize him, and asking who he is, he replies;
A Roman;

Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds
Had anfwer'd him.

Of

For being now a favourer to the Britain,
No more a Britain, I've refum'd again
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the verielt hind, that shall
Once touch my fhoulder. Great the flaughtes is
Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be,
Britains must take. For me, my ransom's death;
On either fide I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by fome means for Imogen.

Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers.

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken! 'Tis thought, the old man, and his fons, were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a filly habit, That gave th' affront with them.

1 Cap. So 'tis reported;

But none of them can be found. Stand, who's there?
Poft. A Roman;

Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds
Had answer'd him.

2 Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog!

A leg of Rome fhall not return to tell

What crows have peck'd them here; he brags his fervice,

As if he were of note; bring him to th' King.

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Piab fanio, and Roman captives. The captains prefent Pofthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to Road Goaler. After which, all go out.

Of the old Britons facrificing Captives to Andate, their Goddess of Victory, many Authors have spoken; and of their Custom of burning Numbers in their great Wicker Image, Holingshead makes mention: but Sammes, in his BRITANNIA, is particula y copious upon it.

1 Goal.

de won raid to 1

SCENE changes to a Prifon.

D

Enter Pofthumus, and two goalers. 198
OU shall not now be ftoln, you've locks

Y upon

You

upon you

find!!!

So, graze, as you find pafture.

2 Goal. Ay, or ftomach.

[Exeunt Goalers

Poft. Moft welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty; yet am I better

Than one that's fick o'th' gout, fince he had rather
Groan fo in perpetuity than be cur'd

By th' fure phyfician, death; who is the key

T'unbar thefe locks. My confcience! thou art fetter'd

More than my shanks and wrifts; you good Gods, give me

T

A

༣་

The penitent inftrument to pick that bolt;
Then free for ever. Is't enough, I'm forry?
So children temp'ral fathers do appeafe;
Gods are more full of mercy. Muft I repent?') s
I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Defir'd, more than constrain'd; to fatisfie, (3) OW

(53)

To fatisfy

Freedom 'tis the main part, take * 370m od t A If of my No ftricter Render of me, than my all.] Nonfenfe has one happy Property, in That one needs not many Words to be made fenfible of it; but 'tis, in this refpect, like Light, perceiv'd as foon as fhewn. Such is the glaring Nonfenfe of thefe Lines. What we can discover from them is this, that the Speaker in a Fit of Penitency towards Heaven, compares his Circumstances with a Debtor's who is willing to surrender up all to appease his Creditor. This being the Senfe in general, I may venture to fay, the true Reading mutt have been thus.

To fatisfy,

"To

૪ 3 ઇ wasa jad I d'off my Freedom; 'tis the main part; take No ftricter Render of me than my all. The Verb doff is too frequently used by our Author to need any Quotations in Proof; and furely, here with peculiar Elegance. i. e. "give all the Satisfaction I am able to your offended Godheads, I "voluntarily divest myself of my Freedom: 'Tis the only Thing I "have worth offering by way of Atonement, take no ftricter Render of me than my All. Mr. Warburton

I d'off my freedom; 'tis the main part; take
No stricter Render of me, than my all.
I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A fixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my defire.
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though
'Tis not fo dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it;
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every ftamp;
Though light, take pieces for the figure's fake;
You rather, mine being yours: and fo, great Powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel thofe old bonds. Oh Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in filence.

[He fleeps. Solemn mufick: Enter, as in an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Pofthumus, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Pofthumus, with mufick before them. Then, after other mufick, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Pofthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round, as he lyes fleeping.

Sici. No more, thou thunder-mafter, fhew
Thy spite on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,

That thy Adulteries

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done ought but well,
Whofe face I never faw?

I dy'd, whilst in the womb he stay'd,
Attending Nature's Law.

Whofe father, Jove! (as men report,
Thou orphans' father art;)

Thou should't have been, and shielded him
From his earth-vexing fmart.

Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes;

That from me my Pofthumus ript,
Came crying 'mong ft his foes,

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