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That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter: -villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:--the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd, Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas!-O Imogen !
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !
Imo.

Peace, my lord; hear, hear-
Post. Shall's have a play of this ? Thou scornful page.
There lie thy part.
[Striking her: she falls.
O, gentlemen, help, help

Pis. Mine, and your mistress :--O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!— Mine honour'd lady! Cum. Does the world go round? Post. How come these staggers on me? Wake, my mistress ! Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

Pis.

Pis.

How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are.

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The tune of Imogen!

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Cum. New matter still?

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Cym.

What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me To temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her

A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life ; but, in short time, All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel.

There was our error.

My boys,

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My lord,

Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and
If I discover'd not which way she was gone, [swore,
It was my instant death: By accident,

I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him

To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,
I further know not.

Gui.

I slew him there. Cym.

Let me end the story:

Marry, the gods forefend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny 't again.
Gui.
I have spoke it, and I did it.
Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea
If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cum. I am sorry for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law : Thou art dead.

Imo.

That headless mau

Bind the offender,

I thought had been my lord.
Cum.
And take him from our presence.
Bel.

Stay, sir king:

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone;

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In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel.

We will die all three:
But I will prove, that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv.

Ours.

Gui. And our good his. Bel.

Your danger is

Have at it then.

By leave ;-Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who Was call'd Belarius.

Cum.

A banish'd traitor.

Bel.

What of him? he is

He it is, that hath

[Kneeling. | Assum'd this age : indeed, a banish'd man; I know not how, a traitor.

Imo. Your blessing, sir. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for it. [To GUI. and ARV. My tears that fall,

Cym.

Cum.

Take him hence: The whole world shall not save him.

Bel.

Not too hot | When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridg

irst pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all, so soon

As I have receiv'd it.

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Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

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Cym. How my issue? Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, and so they are,) these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't; Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty, Excited me to treason: Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. Сут.

Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.

Be pleas'd awhile.-
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus,

Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.

Cym.

Guiderius had

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ment,

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which

Distinction should be rich in.-Where, how liv'd you, And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependancies,

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long interrogatories. See,
Posthúmus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitt ng
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.

[To BELARIUS.

Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. Cym. All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo.

I will yet do you service.

My good master,

Happy be you!

Luc. Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.

Post.

I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd ;-That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach.
I am down again: [Kneeling
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but, your ring first;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

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The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, Aud deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd; We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;

Pardon's the word to all.

Arv.

You holp us, sir,

As you did mean indeed to be our brother;

Joy'd are we, that you are.

Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,

Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows

Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him shew
His skill in the construction.

Luc.

Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc.

Philarmonus,

Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years. shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.

Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :
the piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,

[To ČYMBELINE.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier I divine,
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the acle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
Cym.

This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Сут.

Well,

My peace we will begin :- And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
And to the Roman empire; promising,
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen :

THIS play has many just sentiments some natural dialogues and some pleasing scenes, but they are of tained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names, and man hers of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for 3ggravation.-JOHNSON.

Of the enormous injustice of the above sentence, nearly every, page of Cymbeline will, to a reader of any taste or discrimination, bring the most decisive evidence. That it possesses many of the too common inattentions of Shakspeare, that it exhibits a frequent violation to costume, and a singular confusion of nomenclature, cannot be denied; but these are trifles light as air, when contrasted with its merits, which are of the very es sence of dramatic worth, rich and full in all that breathes of vigour, animation, and intellect; in all that elevates the fancy, and improves the heart. In possession of excellencies vital as those must be deemed, cold and fastidious is the criticism, that, on account of irregularities in mere technical detail, would shut its eyes upon their splendour. Nor are their wanting crities of equal learning with, and superior taste to, Johnson, who have considered what he has branded with the unqualified charge of *confusion of manners," as forming in a certain point of view,

Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers.) Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision. Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd: which foreshew'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cæsar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.

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one of the most pleasing recommendations of the piece. Thus Schlegel, after characterising Cymbeline, as one of Shakspeare's most wonderful compositions, adds, He has here connected a novel of Boccacio with traditionary tales of the ancient Britous, reaching back to the times of the first Roman emperors; and he has contrived by the most gentle transitions, to blend together into a harmonious whole, the social manners of the latest times, with the heroic deeds, and even with the appearances, of the gods." (Essay on Dram. Lit. vol. ii. p. 183.) It may also be remarked, that if the unities of time and place be as little observed in this play, as in many others of the sanie poet, unity of character and feeling, the test of genius, and without which the utmost efforts of art will be unavailing, is uniformly and happily supported.

In this drama, poetical justice has been strictly observed, the vicious characters meet the punishment due to their crimes, while virtue in all its various degrees is proportionably rewarded. The scene of retribution, which is the closing one of the play, is a masterpiece of skill; the developement of the plot, for its fulness, completeness, and ingenuity, surpassing any ef fort of the kind among our author's coutemporaries, and atoning for any partia. nces gruity which the structure or conduct of the story may have displayed.-Dr. DRARR.

I HIS play was entered at Stationers' Hall, Feb. 6, 1593-4; in
which year (according to Langbaine, who alone appears to
have seen the first edition) it was also printed. There were
two editions in quarto, one in 1600, and another in 1611; but
neither of these have the author's name on the title page. The
tragedy however was written several years before; as it is!
mentioned in the induction to Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair
in 1014, as one that had been exhibited five-and-twenty or
thirty years: which, if we take the lowest number, throws it
back to the year 1589, at which time Shakspeare was but
twenty-five. It was most probably written two or three years
earlier, and was the first production of our author.
That it is his, there is not only the testimony of its having been
printed in the players' edition; but the authority of Meres, a
contemporary author, who in a little book called Palladis
Tamia, printed in 1598, enumerates this tragedy among the
works of Shakspeare.

The commentators have shewn themselves very desirons of
discrediting the authenticity of this play; but they have no-
thing to oppose to the above strong evidence in its favour;
but such inconclusive arguments as may be derived from the
dissimilarity of its style, and the inferiority of its merit to the
other works of our author, To which may be answered, that
it was a boyish production; that it is, perhaps, superior to any

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TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman, general against the Goths.

MARCUS ANDRONICUS, tribune of the people, and bro-
ther to Titus.

LUCIUS, QUINTUS, Martius, Mutius, sens to Titus
Andronicus

Young Lucius, a boy, son to Lucius.

PUBLIUS, son to Marcus the tribune.

EMILIUS, a noble Roman.

ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, sons to Tamora.

AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora.

of the plays which were most popular at the period of its com position, and which a young writer would naturally be led u imitate in the first tumid experiment of his powers; and that however displeasing its horrors and its turgid declamation may be to us, they were particularly admired by our author's contemporaries. Much stress has been laid by Malone on the tradition mentioned by Ravenscroft; in his preface to the alteration of this play, published in 1687, he says, "I have been told by some anciently conversant with the stage, that it was not originally Shakspeare's; but brought by a private author to be acted, and he only gave some master touches to one or two of the principal parts or characters." This tradition, from whom soever Ravenscroft received it, is overthrown by the slightest reference to dates. The play was produced, as we have al ready seen, certainly in 1589, probably as early as 15834. at this time Shakspeare was as yet unknown; a young man little more than twenty, without either literary reputation or theatrical influence, and the very last person to whom a play would be entrusted for the benefit of revision and correction. The plot, names, and characters of the play are from an old bal lad, which the reader will find in the first volume of Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

Keep then this passage to the Capitol ;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
But let desert in pure election shine;
To justice, continence, and nobility:
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Mar. Princes that strive by factions, and by
Ambitiously for rule and empery,—
Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
[friends,
A special party, have, by common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius,

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For many good and great deserts to Rome;
A nobler man, a braver warrior,

Lives not this day within the city walls:

A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans. He by the senate is accited home,

Goths and Romans.

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Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome
;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
Bus. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son, [my right,-
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,

From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up
in arms.
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: Five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons
In coffins from the field;

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat.-By honour of his name,
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,—
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength;
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should.
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.

Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts!
Bus. Marcus Andronicus, so do I affy
In thy uprightness and integrity,
And so I love and honour thee and thine,
Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons,
And her, to whom my thoughts are humbled all
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
That I will here dismiss my loving friends;
And to my fortunes, and the people's favour,
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

[Exeunt the Followers of BAsS.ANUL Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right

I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.

[Exeunt the Followers of SATURNINUS.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates, and let me in.

Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor. [SAT. and BAs. go into the Capitol, and exeunt with Senators, MARCUS, &c.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter a Captain and others.

Cap. Romans, make way; The good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. Flourish of trumpets, &c. Enter MUTIUS and MARTIUS after them, two men bearing a coffin covered with black; then QUINTUS and LUCIUS. After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and People, following. The bearers set down the coffin, and Tirus speaks. Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! Lo, as the bark, that hath discharg'd her fraught, Returns with precious lading to the bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, To re-salute his country with his tears; Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rites that we intend !Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that king Priam had, Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead! These, that survive, let Rome reward with love; These, that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors: Here Goths have given me leave to sheath Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx!Make way to lay them by their brethren.

my sword.

[The tomb is opened.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars!
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,

How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more?

Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

conqueror,

Tit. I give him you; the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. Tam. Stay, Roman brethren ;-Gracious Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother's tears in passion for her son : And. if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs, and return, Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke; But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, For valiant doings in their country's cause?

O! if to fight for king and common weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge;
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first born son.

Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon ine. These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice:

To this your son is mark'd; and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood,
Luc. Away with him; and make a fire straight;
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consumed.
[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and
MUTIUS, with ALARBUS.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous ?
Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
To tremble under Titus' threatening look.
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope withal,
The self-same gods that arm'd the queen of Troy
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,)
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS,
with their swords bloody.

Luc. See, lord and father, how we nave perform'd
Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky.
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcoine them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:

In

Enter LAVINIA.

peace and honour rest you here my sons, Lav. In peace and honour live ord Titus long; My noble lord and father, live ir fame! Lo! at this tomb my tributary tears I render, for my brethren's obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud.

Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd The cordial of mine age to glad my heart!Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!

Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, SATURNINUS, BASSIANUS, and others. Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome.

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country's service drew your swords :

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