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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

yours.
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 them.in 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

Grace.
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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II.

SCENE, Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

CLOTEN.

W4

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

3

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

you

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

not.

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!

[Exeunt.

(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

SCENE

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