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Or she, that bore you, was no Queen, and you
Recoll from your great stock.

Imo. Reveng'd!
How should I be reveng’d, if this be true ?
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse ;) if it be true,
How shall I be reveng'd?

lach. Should he make me
Live like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets ?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps
In your despight, upon your purse? Revenge it:
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your

bed ;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close, as sure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio !
lach. Let me my service tender on your lips.

Imo. Away! -I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'It have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st ; as base, as strange:
Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour ; and
Sollicit'st here a Lady, that disdains
Thee, and the Devil alike. What ho, Pifanio !
The King my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy affault ; if he shall think it fit,
A fawcy stranger in his court to mart
As in a Romih stew, and to expound
His beaftly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all. What ho, Pifanio !

lach. O happy Leonatus, I may say ;
The credit, that thy Lady hath of thee,
Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
Her affur'd credit! blessed live you long,
A Lady to the worthieft Sir, that ever
Country call'd his ! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthieft fit? Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your

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Were deeply rooted ; and shall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The truest-manner'd, such a holy witch,
'That he enchants focieties into him :
Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

lach. He fios ’mong men, like a descended God;
He hath a kind of honour fets him off,
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur'd
To try your taking of a false report ; which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment,
In the election of a Sir, so rare,
Which, you know, cannot err.

The love I bear him,
Made me to fan you thus; but the Gods made you,
Unlike all others, chaffefs. Pray, your pardon.
Imo. All's well, Sir ; take my pow'r i'th' court for

lach. My humble thanks; I had almoft forgot
T' intreat your Grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; myself, and other noble friends
Are partners in the business.

Ime. Pray, what is't ?

bach. Some dozen Romans of as, and your Lorde
(Beit feather of our wing,) have mingled fums
To buy a present for the Emperor :
Which I, the factor for the rest, liave done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form, their values great ;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage : may it please you
To take protection ?

Imo. Willingly;
And pawn mire honour for their safety. Since
My Lord hath int’rest in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

lach. They are in a trunk,
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night ;


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I muft aboard to morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

lach. Yes, I beseech you: or I shall short my word, By length’ning my return. From Gallia, I crott the feas on purpose, and on promise To fee your

Imo. I thank you for your pains ;
But not away to morrow?

lach. O, I must, Madam. Therefore I shall befeech

you please
To greet your lord with writing, do't to night.
I have outstood my time, which is material
To th' tender of our present.

Imo. I will write :
Send your trunk to me, it shall safe be kept,
And truly yielded you: You're very welcome. [Exe.

you, if

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SCENE, Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.



AS there ever man had such luck! when I

kiss'd the Jack upon an up-cast, to be hic

away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whoreson jack-an-apes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.

i Lord. What got he by that? you have broke his pate with your bowl.

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it it would have run all out.

[ Aside. Clot. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not. for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. Ha? K 5

2 Lorde


2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor crop the ears of them.

[Afide. Clot. Whorson dog ! I give him satisfaction ? 'would, he had been one of my rank. 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool.

[Afide. Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in the earth,a pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother; every Jack-slave hath his belly full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that no body can match.

2 Lord. You are a cock and a capón too; and you crow, cock; with your comb on.

[ Afide. Clot. Say'st thou ?

2 Lord. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordfhip only. Clot. Why, fo I say.

i Lord. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to night?

Clat. A stranger, and I not know on't? 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

Afide. i Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.

Clot. Leonatus ! a banish'd rascal ; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told


of this stranger ?" i Lord. One of your lordship's pages.

Clot. Is it fit I went to look upon him ? is there no derogation in't ?

2 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clot. Not easily, I think.

2 Lord. You are a fool granted, therefore your issues being foolih do not derogate.

Clot. Come, I'll go see this Italian : what i mar. loit to day at bowls, I'll win to night of him. Come ; go. 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordfhip.

[Exit Clot.



That such a crafty devil, as his mother,
Should yield the world this ass !-

a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen.--Alas, poor Princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'ft!
Betwixt a father by thy step dame govern’d,
A mother hourly coining plots; a wooer,
(7) More hateful than the foul expulfion is
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act
Of the divorce he'ld make. -The heav'ns hold firm
The walls of thy dear Honour ; keep unshak'd
That Temple, thy fair Mind; that thou may'tt stand
T' enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land!


(7) More hatefull than the foul Expulfion is

of thy dear Husband, than that horrid AE
of the divorce - he'll make the Heav'ns hold firm

The Walls of thy dear honour, &c.] What perpetual proofs occur of these Editors' Atupid Indolence! They cannot afford even to add, or transpose, a Stop, tho' the Sense be never so much concern'd in it. How would Cloten's Sollicitations, if I might ask these wise Gentlemen, make the Heavens keep firm Imogen's Honour ? Would the Speaker imply, that this Wooer was so hateful, worthless, a Creature, the Heavens would purposely keep her honeft in Contempt of him? The Author meant no such absurd Stuff. I dare be positive, I have reform'd his Pointing, and by That retriev'd his true Sense. “ This Wooer, says the speaker, is more hateful to her than the Banishment of her Lord; or the horrid Attempt of making that Banihment perpetual

, by his marrying her in “ her Lord's Absence.” Having made chis Reflexion, he subjoins a virtuous Wish, that Heaven may preserve her Honour unblemill'd, and her to enjoy her Husband back, and her Rights in the Kingdomno


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