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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,
O'er-pays all I can do. By this, your King
Hath heard of great Auguftus; Caius Lucius
Will do's commiffion throughly And, I think, (9)
He'll grant the tribute; fend th' 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,) That this fhall prove a war; and you fhall hear The legions, now in Gallia, fooner landed

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He'll grant the Tribute, fend th' Arrearages,
Or look upon our Romans, whofe Remembrance
Is yet fresh in their Grief.]

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
Of any penny tribute paid. Our Countrymen
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæfar
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage
Worthy of frowning at. Their difcipline,

Now mingled with their courages, will make known
To their approvers, they are people fuch
As mend upon the world.

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
Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach. If I've loft 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 fuch sweet shortness, which
Was mine in Britaine; for the ring is won.
Poft. The ftone's too hard to come by.
Iach. Not a whit,

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
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant,
We were to queftion farther; but I now
Profess 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.

Poft. If

you can make't apparent
That you have tasted her in bed; my hand,
And ring is yours. 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 fpare, when you shall find
You need it not.

Poft. Proceed.

Iach. First, her bed-chamber,

(Where, I confess, I flept not; but profefs,
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With tapestry of filk and filver; the ftory
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus fwell'd 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 wonder'd,
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.

Iach. More Particulars

Muft juftify my knowledge.

Poft. So they must,

Or do your honour injury.
Iach. The chimney

Is fouth the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaft Dian, bathing; never faw I figures
So likely to report themselves; the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb, out-went her;
Motion and breath left out.

Poft. This is a thing,

Which you might from relation likewise reap;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach. The roof o'th' chamber

With golden cherubims is fretted: Th' andirons,
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of filver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Poft. What's this t' her honour? (10)

Let it be granted you have feen all this,

Praise be to your remembrance, the defcription
Of what is in her chamber nothing faves

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!
And now 'tis up again; it must be married

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,
Which I left with her?

Iach. Sir, I thank her, that:

She ftripp'd it from her arm, I fee her yet,
Her pretty action did out-fell her gift,

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,
Where there's another man. The vows of women
Of no more bondage be, to where they're made,
Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing;
O, above measure false!

Phil. Have patience, Sir,

And take your ring again: 'tis not yet won;
It may be probable, fhe loft it; or,

Who knows, one of her women, being corrupted,
Hath ftoll'n it from her.

Poft. Very true,

And fo, I hope, he came by't;-back my ring;
Render to me fome corporal fign about her,
More evident than this; for this was ftole.
Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Poft. Hark you, he fwears; by Jupiter he swears.
'Tis true nay, keep the ring 'tis true; I'm fure,
She could not lofe it; her attendants are

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All honourable; they induc'd to steal it!

And, by a stranger! no, he hath enjoy'd her.

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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!

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