She's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope, So I leave you, Sir, But the worft of me. To th' worst of discontent. Clot. I'll be reveng❜d, His meaneft garment? well. [Exit. [Exit. Poft. F SCENE changes to Rome. Enter Pofthumus, and Philario. EAR 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 prefent winter's ftate, and with, That warmer days would come; in thefe fear'd hopes, I barely gratify your love; they failing, I muft die much your debtor. Phil. Your very goodness, and your company, Poft. I do believe, (Statist though I am none, nor like to be,) That this fhall prove a war; and you fhall hear The legions, now in Gallia, fooner landed He'll grant the Tribute, fend th' Arrearages, What a ftrange 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 difpute the Demand at Sword's Point? Who doubts it? But this was none of the Speaker's Meaning: he would give it as his Thought, that the Britains would pay, e'er they would conteft the Matter: and fo I have reform'd the Text. In In our not-fearing Britaine, than have tidings Now mingled with their courages, will make known Phil. See, Iachimo. Enter Iachimo. Poft. Sure, the fwift harts have pofted you by land, And winds of all the corners kifs'd your fails, To make your veffel nimble. Phil. Welcome, Sir. Poft. I hope, the briefnefs of your answer made The fpeedinefs of your Return. Iach. Your lady Is of the fairest I e'er look'd upon. Poft. And, therewithal, the beft; or let her beauty Look through a cafement to allure false hearts, And be falfe with them. Iach. Here are letters for you. Poft. Their tenour good, I trust. lach. 'Tis very like. Poft. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court, When you were there? lach. He was expected then, But not approach'd. Poft. All is well yet. Sparkles this ftone as it was wont, or is't not Iach. If I've loft it, I should have loft the worth of it in gold; Your lady being fo eafy. Poft. 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 Poft. If you can make't apparent Iach. Sir, my circumstances Being fo near the truth, as I will make them, Poft. Proceed. Iach. First, her bed-chamber, (Where, I confess, I flept not; but profefs, In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd, Since the true life on't was Poft. This is true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Iach. More Particulars Muft juftify my knowledge. Poft. So they must, Or do your honour injury. Is fouth the chamber; and the chimney-piece, Poft. This is a thing, Which you might from relation likewise reap; Iach. The roof o'th' chamber With golden cherubims is fretted: Th' andirons, Poft. What's this t' her honour? (10) Let it be granted you have feen all this, Praise be to your remembrance, the defcription The wager you have laid. Iach. Then, if you can [Pulling out the Bracelet. Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel; fee! To that your diamond. (10) I'll keep them. This is ber honour: Let it be granted you have feen all this, &c.] Tachimo impudently pretends to have carried his Point; and, in Confirmation, is very minute in defcribing to the Husband all the Furniture and Adornments of his Wife's Bed-chamber. But how is fine Furniture any ways a Princess's Honour? It is an Apparatus fuitable to her Dignity, but certainly makes no part of her Character. It might have been call'd her Father's Honour, that her Allotments were proportion'd to her Rank and Quality. I am persuaded, the Poet intended Pofthumus should say; " This particular "Description, which you make, can't convince me that I have "loft my Wager: Your Memory is good; and fome of these "Things you may have learned from a Third Hand, or feen your"felf; yet I expect Proofs more direct and authentick." I think, there is little Question but we ought to restore the place as I have done. 4 What's this t' ber Honour ? Poft. Poft. Jove! Once more let me behold it: Is it that, Iach. Sir, I thank her, that: She ftripp'd it from her arm, I fee her yet, And yet enrich'd it too; fhe And faid, the priz'd it once. gave it me, Poft. May be, fhe pluck'd it off To fend it me. Iach. She writes fo to you? doth she ? Poft. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this too; It is a bafilifk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't; let there be no honour, Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love, Phil. Have patience, Sir, And take your ring again: 'tis not yet won; Who knows, one of her women, being corrupted, Poft. Very true, And fo, I hope, he came by't;-back my ring; All honourable; they induc'd to steal it! And, by a stranger! no, he hath enjoy'd her. The cognizance of her incontinency Is this; the hath bought the name of Whore thus dearly; There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you! |