The under-hangman of his realm; and hated
For being preferred fo well.

Clot. The fouth-fog rot him!

Imo. He never can meet more mifchance than

come

To be but named of thee. His meanest garment
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer
In my refpect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made fuch men. How now, Pifanio?
Enter PISANIO.

Clot. His garment? now, the devil.

Imo. To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently. Clot. His garment?

Imo. I am fprighted with a fool,

Frighted, and angered worfe---go, bid my woman Search for a jewel that too cafually

Hath left mine arm---it was thy mafter's.. 'Shrew If I would lofe it for a revenue

Of any King in Europe. I do think

I faw't this morning; confident I am,
Last night it was on my arm; I kiffed it.
I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
That I kifs ought but him.

Pif. 'Twill not be loft.

Imo. I hope fo; go, and fearch.

Clot. You have abufed me--

His meanest garment?---

If

Imo. Ay, I faid fo, Sir;

you will make't an action, call witnefs to't. Glot. I will inform your father.

Imo. Your mother too;

[me,

She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope,

But the worst of me.

So, I leave you, Sir,

To the worst of discontent.

[Exit.

Clot. I'll be revenged,----His meaneft garment ?---well.

[Exit.

量

SCENE changes to Rome.

Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO.

Poft. Fear it not, Sir; I would I were fo fure To win the King, as I am bold her honour Will remain hers.

Phil. What means do you make to him?

Poft. Not any, but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come; in thefe feared
hopes,

I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I muft die much your debtor.

Phil. Your very goodness, and your company,
O'er-pays all I can do. By this, your King
Hath heard of great Auguftus; Caius Lucius
Will do's commitlion throughly. And, I think, (17).
He'll grant the tribute; fend the arrearages,

E'er look upon our Romans, whofe remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.

Poft. I do believe,

(Statist though I am none, nor like to be),

(17)

-And, I think,

He'll grant the tribute, fend th' arrearages,

Or lock upon our Romans, whofe remembrance
Is yet fresh in their grief.]

What a strange loofe inference do the editors here make
Philario guilty of, that Cymbeline would do one thing or
t'other; either fubmit to pay tribute, or dispute the de-
mand at fword's point? Who doubts it? But this was none
of the speaker's meaning: he would give it as his thought,
that the Britons would pay, ere they would contest the
matter and fo 1 have reformed the text. I have fhewn
in my 21ft note on Titus Andronicus, from Chaucer, and the
old gloffaries, that or was formerly ufed for e'er, before: but
this ufage, as I there obferved, was become too obfolete for
Shakespeare's days.

That this fhall prove a war; and you shall hear (18)
The legions, now in Gallia, fooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen
Are men more ordered than when Julius Cæfar
Smiled at their lack of fkill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers, they are people such
As mend upon the world.

Enter IACHIMO.

Phil. See, Tachimo.----

Poft. Sure the fwift harts have pofted you by land,

And winds of all the corners kiffed your fails
To make your veffel nimble.

(18)

And you all hear

The legion now in Gallia fooner landed
In our not-fearing Britain, &c.]

Pofthumus is faying, that the Britons are much strengthened fince the time of Julius Cæfar's attack upon them: would then the Romans think now of invading them with a fingle legion? The Poet certainly wrote;

The legions now in Gallia, &c.

So in four feveral paffages afterwards:

The powers, that he already hath in Gallia,
Will foon be drawn, &c.

To them, the 'egions garrifoned in Gallia,
After your will, have cross'd the fea.

And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full-weak to undertake our war against
The fall'n-off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this bufinefs.

-So pleafe your Majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coaft, with large fupply
Of Roman gentlemen.

Phil. Welcome, Sir.

Poft. I hope the briefnefs of your answer made The speedinefs of your return.

lach. Your lady

Is of the fairest I e'er looked upon.

Poft. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a cafement to allure falfe hearts, And be falfe with them.

Iach. Here are letters for you.

Poft. Their tenour good, I trust.

lach. 'Tis very like.

Haft. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court,

When you were there?

lach. He was expected then,

But not approached.

Poft. All is well yet.

Sparkles this ftone as it was wont, or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?

lach. If I've lost it,

I should have loft the worth of it in gold;
I'll make a journey twice as far, t' enjoy
A fecond night of such sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.
Poft. The ftone's too hard to come by.
Iach. Not a whit,

Your lady being fo eafy.

Poft. Make not, Sir,

Your lofs your fport; I hope you know that we Muft not continue friends.

Iach. Good Sir, we must,

If you keep covenant: had I not brought
The knowledge of your miftrefs home, I grant
We were to question farther; but I now
Profefs myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger

Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both
your wills.

Peft. If you can make't apparent That have tasted her in bed, my you

hand

And ring is yours. (19) If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains or lofes Your fword or mine; or masterlefs leaves both To who fhall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances

Being fo near the truth as I will make them,
Muft first induce you to believe; whofe ftrength
I will confirm with oath, which, I doubt not,
You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
You need it not.

Poft. Proceed.

lach. First, her bed-chamber,---

(Where, I confefs, I flept not; but profess,
Had that was well worth watching) it was hanged
With tapestry of filk and filver; the story
Proud Cleopatra, when he met her Roman,
And Cydnus fwelled above the banks, or for
The prefs of boats, or pride :--a piece of work
So bravely done, fo rich, that it did strive
In workmanship, and value; which, I wondered
Could be fo rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was---

Poft. This is true;

And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by fome other.

(19)

-If not, the foul opinion

You had of her poor honour, &c.]

Thus Mr Rowe; and thus Mr Pope, as judiciously as fervilely, after him and yet he pretends to have collated the old copies. But the two elder Folios read, as I have reftored,

You had of her pure honour.