Or fhe, that bore you, was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great ftock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd, if this be true?

(As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Muft not in hafte abuse ;) if it be true,
How shall I be reveng'd?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's Prieft, betwixt cold sheets?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your despight, upon your purfe? Revenge it :-
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue faft to your affection,
Still clofe, as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

Iach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips.
Imo. Away!I do condemn mine ears, that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou would't have told this tale for virtue, not
For fuch an end thou seek'ft; as base, as strange:
Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Sollicit'it here a Lady, that difdains

Thee, and the Devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!-
The King my father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy affault; if he fhall think it fit,
A fawcy ftranger in his court to mart
As in a Romih tew, and to expound
His beaftly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not refpects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
lach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay;
The credit, that thy Lady hath of thee,
Deferves thy truft, and thy most perfect goodness
Her affur'd credit! bleffed 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 affiance

K 4

Were

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

Imo. You make amends.

lach. He fits 'mong men, like a defcended God; He hath a kind of honour fets him off, More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry, Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a falfe report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment, In the election of a Sir, fo 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, chafflefs. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'r i'th' court for

yours.

Iach. 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?

Fach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your Lord, (Bett feather of our wing,) have mingled fums

To buy a present for the Emperor :

Which I, the factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am fomething curious, being ftrange,
To have them in fafe ftowage: may it please you
To take them-in protection ?

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath int'reft in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a trunk,

Attended by my men: I will make bold
To fend them to you, only for this night;

I muft aboard to morrow.

Imo. O no, no.

Iach. Yes, I beseech you: or I fhall fhort my word,, By length'ning my return. From Gallia,

I crott the feas on purpofe, and on promise
To fee your Grace.

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

Iach. O, I muft, Madam.

Therefore I fhall befeech you, if 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.

ACT

II.

SCENE, Cymbeline's Palace.

WA

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

CLOTEN.

AS there ever man had fuch luck! when I kifs'd the Jack upon an up-caft, to be hit away! I had an hundred pound on't; and then a whorefon jack-an-apes must take me up for fwearing, 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.

[Afide. Clot. When a gentleman is difpos'd to fwear, it is not. for any ftanders-by to curtail his oaths. Ha?

K 5

2 Lord!

2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor crop

the ears of them.

[Afide. Clot. Whorfon dog! I give him satisfaction ? 'would, he had been one of my rank.

2 Lord. To have fmelt 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 fo noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen my mother; every Jack-flave 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 capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. {Afide. 2 Lord. It is not fit your lordship fhould undertake every companion, that you give offence to.

Clot. Say'ft thou?

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

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordfhip only.—

Clot. Why, fo I fay.

1 Lord. Did you hear of a ftranger that's come to court to night?

Clat. A tranger, and I not know on't?

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it

not.

[Afide. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus's friends.

Clot. Leonatus! a banish'd rafcal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? 1 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 eafily, I think.

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

[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll go fee this Italian: what I have loit to day at bowls, I'll win to night of him. Come;

go.

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship.

[Exit Clet.

That

That fuch a crafty devil, as his mother,
Should yield the world this afs !-

-a woman, that
Bears all down with her brain; and this her fon
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen.Alas, poor Princess,
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st!
Betwixt a father by thy ftep 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'st 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 Act

[Exeunt.

Of the divorce he'll make the Heav'ns hold firm
The Walls of thy dear honour, &c.]

What perpetual proofs occur of thefe Editors' ftupid Indolence! They cannot afford even to add, or transpose, a Stop, tho' the Sense be never fo 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 fo hateful, worthless, a Creature, the Heavens would purpofely keep her honeft in Contempt of him? The Author meant no fuch absurd Stuff. I dare be positive, I have reform'd his Pointing, and by That retriev'd his true Sense. "This Wooer, fays the Speaker, is more hateful to her than "the Banishment of her Lord; or the horrid Attempt of "making that Banishment perpetual, by his marrying her in

her Lord's Abfence." Having made this Reflexion, he subjoins a virtuous Wish, that Heaven may preferve her Honour unblemish'd, and her to enjoy her Husband back, and her Rights in the Kingdom.

鮮

SCENE