o'er. Firft, a very excellent good conceited thing; after, a wonderful fweet air with admirable rich words to it; and then let her confider, Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate fings,. His fteeds to water at thofe fprings On chalic'd flowers that lyes: So, get you gone-----if this penetrate, I will con- 2 Enter Queen and CYMBELINE. 2 Lord. Here comes the King. Clot. I am glad I was up fo late, for that's the reafon I was up fo early: he cannot chufe but take this fervice I have done fatherly. Goodmorrow to your Majefty, and to my gracious mo ther. Gym. Attend you here the door of our stern daugh, ter? will the not forth? Clot. I have alfailed her with mufics, but she. youchfafes no notice. Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him; fome more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then the's yours. Queen. You are most bound to th' King, Clot. Senfeleis? not fo. Enter a Meffenger. Me. So like you, Sir, Ambaffadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: we must receive him. And towards himfelf, his goodness fore-fpent on us, [Knocks. what -'tis gold I know her women are about her Their deer to th' ftand o' th' ftealer: and 'tis gold One of her women lawyer to me, for Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there that knocks? Clot. A gentleman. Lady. No more ? Clot. Yes, and a gentlewoman's fon. Lady. That's more [Knocks. Than fome, whofe tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boat of: what's your Lordfhip's pleasure? Clot. Your lady's perfon; is the ready? Lady. Ay, to keep her chamber. Clot. There is gold for you, fell me your good report. of Lady. How, my good name? or to report What I fhall think is good? the Princess- Enter IMOGEN. you Clot. Good-morrow, faireft: fifter, your fweet hand. Imo. Good-morrow, Sir; you lay out too much pains For purchafing but trouble; the thanks I give, And fearce can spare them. Clot. Still, I fwear, I love you. Imo. If you but faid fo, 'twere as deep with me; 'If you fwear ftill, your recompence is itill That I regard it not. Clot. This is no answer. Imo. But that you fhall not say I yield, being filent, I would not speak I pray you fpare me-----' I fhall unfold equal difcourte fy --'faith, To your best kindnefs: one of your great knowing Should learn (being taught) forbearance. Clot. To leave you in your madnefs, 'twere mỹ I will not. Imo. Fools cure not mad folks. Clot. Do you call me fool? Imo. As I am mad. do: [fin; (+4) If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; T'accufe myself, I hate you: which I had rather Clot. You fin against (14) To leave you in your madness, 'twere ing fin ; I will not. Imo. Fools are not mad folks. Clot. Do you call me fool? The But does the really call him fool? The foundeft logician would be puzzled to find it out, as the text ftands. reafoning is perplexed in a flight corruption; and we must reftore, as Mr Warburton likewife faw, Fools cure not mad folks. You are mad, fays he, and it would be a crime in me to leave you to yourself.——Nay, fays fhe, why thould you ftay A fool never cured madnefs. Do you call me fool? replies he, &c. All this is cafy and natural. And that cure was certainly the Poet's word, I think is very evident from what Imogen immediately subjoins : If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad, i. e. If you'll cease to torture me with your foolish folicitations, I'll cease to fhew towards you any thing like mad nefs: fo a double cure will be effected of your folly, and my fuppofed frenzy. (15) You put me to forget a lady's manners By being fo verbal.] This reflection of Imogen upon her own fex, that it ill be. Obedience, which you owe your father; for But brats and beggary), in self-figured knot; Imo. Profane fellow! Wert thou the fon of Jupiter, and no more comes a lady to be loquacious, might very well be borrow Ajac. Flagel. v. 295. Woman, to women filence adds a grace (16) And though it be allowed in meaner parties, (Yet who than he more mean?) to knit their fouls But brats and beggary;) in felf figured knot ;] Though I have not difturbed the text, Mr Warburton and I have both concurred in fufpecting that the Poet wrote, in felf-fingered knot: i. e. a match made up without more ceremony than barely the parties ftriking hands. It is our Author's mode of expreffion. So in froilus and Creffida: The bonds of Heaven are flipped, diffolved, and loofed, And fo in The merry Wives of Windfor: c. No, he fhall not knit a knot in his fortunes, with the finger of my fubftance. VOL. X. X |