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For Beauty, that made barren the fwell'd Boast
Of him that beft could speak; for Stature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva,
Poftures, beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities, that man

Loves woman for; befides that hook of wiving,
Fairnefs, which ftrikes the eye

Cym. I ftand on fire.

Come to the matter.

Iach. All too foon I fhall,

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.This Pofthumus, (Moft like a noble lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover) took his hint;

And, not difpraifing whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began

His miftrefs' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags

Were crack'd-of kitchen-trulls, or his defcription

Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

Tach. Your daughter's chastity;

there it begins:

He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And the alone were cold; whereat, I, wretch!
Made fcruple of his praise; and wag'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst This which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In fuit the place of's bed, and win this ring,
By hers and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring;
And would fo, had it been a carbuncle

Of him that beft could speak; for Feature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or firait pight Minerva,
Poftures, beyond brief Nature;]

As plaufible as this Reading may appear at firit View, I dare fay, it is flightly corrupted. What! did they praise their Miftreffes for Beauty, and for Feature too? The Symmetry of Features is always one main part of Beauty. Then why fhould Features be faid to lame a Statue, or the Poftures of a well-built Goddess? We must certainly restore

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This agrees perfectly well with, laming, ftrait-pight, and Poftures: and fo the Lady is prais'd for her Beauty, her Shape, and her Temper of Mind.

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Of

Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of's Car. Away to Britain
Poft I in this defign: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at Court, where I was taught
By your chafte daughter the wide difference
'I'wixt amorous, and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of Hope, not Longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate

Moft vilely for my vantage excellent ;
And, to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown,
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet ;
(Oh, cunning! how I got it) nay, fome marks
Of fecret on her perfon; that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit; whereupon,
Methinks, I fee him now-

[Coming forward.

Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft,
Italian fiend! ay me, moft credulous fool,
Egregious murtherer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in Being,
To come-oh, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright jufticer! Thou, King, send out
For torturers ingenious; it is I

That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Pofthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:- villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a leffer villain than my felf,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was fhe, yea, and fhe her self.
Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Pofthumus Leonatus, and

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Be villainy less than 'twas! Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !

Imo. Peace, my lord, hear, hear
Poft. Shall's have a Play of this?

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Thou

Thou scornful page, there lie thy part.

Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help, Mine, and your mistress

[Striking her, fhe falls.

Oh, my lord Pofthumus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now

Mine honour'd lady

Cym. Does the world

go round?

help, help,

Poft. How come these staggers on me?

Pif. Wake, my mistress!

Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to ftrike me To death with mortal joy.

Pif. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my fight;

Thou gav'ft me poison: dang'rous fellow, hence!
Breathe not, where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pif. Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the Queen. Cym. New matter ftill?

Imo. It poifon'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd,
Which muft approve thee honeft. If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, giv'n his miftrefs that confection,
Which I gave him for cordial, fhe is ferv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem; I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain ftuff, which, being ta'en, would feize
The present power of life; but, in fhort time,
All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel. My boys, there was our error.
Guid. This is, fure, Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock, and now

Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh? my child? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your Bleffing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

[To Guid. Arvir.

Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not,

You had a motive for't.

Cym. My tears, that fall,

Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen,

Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I'm forry for't, my lord.

Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My lord,

Now fear is from me, I'll fpeak truth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's miffing, came to me

With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way he went,
It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed her
To feek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where, in a frenzy, in my mafter's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he pofts
With unchafte purpofe, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: What became of him,
I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the story;

I flew him there.

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend!

I would not, thy good deeds fhould from my lips
Pluck a hard fentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a Prince.

Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs, he did me,

Were

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me fpurn the sea,
Could it fo roar to me. I cut off's head;

And am right glad, he is not ftanding here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I'm forry for thee;

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

Imo. That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.

Bel. Stay, Sir King,

This man is better than the man he flew,

As well defcended as thy felf; and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens

Had ever scar for.- Let his arms alone; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old Soldier,

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tafting of our wrath? how of defcent

As good as we?

Arv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou fhalt die for't.
Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove, that two on's are as good
As I've giv'n out of him. My Sons, I muft,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous fpeech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv. Your danger's ours.

Guid. And our Good, his.

Bel. Have at it then, by leave:

Thou hadft, great King, a Subject, who was call'd Belarius.

Cym. What of him? a banish'd traitor.

Bel. He it is, that hath

Affum'd this age; indeed, a banish'd man;
I know not how, a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence,

The whole world fhall not fave him.

Bel. Not too hot :

First pay me for the nurfing of thy Sons;

And

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