Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our Greatness and the Grace of it,
Which is our Honour, bitter torture shall

Winnow the truth from falfhoood. - On; speak to him. Imo. My boon is, that this Gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.

Poft. What's that to him?

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, fay, How came it yours?.

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken That, Which to be spoke would torture thee.

Cym. How? me?

Iach. I'm glad to be constrain'd to utter what Torments me to conceal. By villany

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel,

Whom thou didst banish: and (which more may grieve

thee,

As it doth me) a nobler Sir ne'er liv'd

'Twixt sky and ground. Will you hear more, my lord? Cym. All that belongs to this.

Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember, give me leave, I faint.

Cym. My daughter, what of her? renew thy ftrength;
I'd rather thou fhouldft live, while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: ftrive, man, and speak.
Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock,
That ftruck the hour;) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where) 'twas at a feast, (oh, 'would
Our viands had been poifon'd! or at least,
Those which I heav'd to head :) the good Pofthumus-
(What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the beft of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones).
Hearing us praise our Loves of Italy (30)

-fitting fadly,

For

(30) Hearing us praise our Loves of Italy

For Beauty, that made barren the fwell'd Boaft
Of him that best could speak; for Feature, laming

The

For Beauty, that made barren the swell'd Boaft
Of him that beft could fpeak; for Stature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva,
Poftures, beyond brief nature; for condition,
A fhop of all the qualities, that man

Loves woman for; befides that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which ftrikes the eye-

Cym. I ftand on fire.

Come to the matter.

lach. All too foon I fhall,

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly.-This Poftbumas, (Moft like a noble lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover) took his hint;

And, not difpraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began

His miftrefs' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags

Were crack'd-of kitchen-trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

lach. Your daughter's chaftity; there it begins: He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And the alone were cold; whereat, I, wretch !Made fcruple of his praife; and wag'd with him Pieces of gold, 'gainst This which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In fuit the place of's bed, and win this ring

The fhrine of Venus, or ftrait-pight Minerva,

Poftures, beyond brief Nature;

-]

As plaufible as this Reading may appear at firft View, I dare fay, it is flightly corrupted. What! did they praise their Mistreffes for Beauty, and for Feature too?. The Symmetry of Features is always one main part of Beauty. Then why fhould Features be faid to lame a Statue, or the Poftures of a well-buils Goddefs? We must certainly restore

-for Stature laming.

The Shrine of Venus, &c.

This agrees perfectly well with, laming, ftrait-pight, and Pf tures and fo the Lady is prais'd for her Beauty, her Shape, and her Temper of Mind.

B

By hers and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring;
And would fo, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phabus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of's Car. Away to Britaine
Post I in this defign: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
By your chafte daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous, and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of Hope, not Longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britaine operate
Moft vilely for my vantage excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimular proof enough
To make the noble Leonates mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown,

With tokens thus, and thus ; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet;
(Oh, cunning! how I got it) nay, fome marks
Of fecret on her perfon; that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit; whereupon,
Methinks, I fee him now-

Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft,

[Coming forward.

Italian fiend! ah me, most credulous fool,

Egregious murtherer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villains paft, in Being,

To come-oh, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright jufticer! Thou, King, send out

For torturers ingenious; it is I

That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Pofthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter;-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a leffer villain than myself,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was she, yea, and She herself.
Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Pofthumus Leonatus, and

Be

Be villany less than 'twas!-Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my lord, hear, hear-
Poft. Shall's have a Play of this?
Thou fcornful page, there lie thy part.

Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help,

Mine, and your mistress

[Striking her, he falls.

Oh, my lord Pofthumus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now-help, help,

Mine honour'd lady.

Cym. Does the world go round?

Poft. How come these staggers on me?

Pif. Wake, my miftrefs!

Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

Pif. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my fight;

Thou gav'ft me poifon : dang'rous fellow, hence !
Breathe not, where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen !

Pif. Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the Queen. Cym. New matter still ?

Imo. It poifon'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd,
Which must approve thee honeft. If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, giv'n his mistress that confection,
Which I gave him for cordial, she is ferv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no efteem; I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would seize

The

The prefent power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again

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

Bel. My boys, there was our error.

Guid. This is, fure, Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock, and now

Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul,

'Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my

flesh

my child?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your Bleffing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

[To Guid. Arvi,

Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not,

You had a motive for't.

Cym. My tears, that fall,

Prove holy-water on thee! Imegen,

Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I'm forry for't, my lord.

Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely; but her fon

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My lord,

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

With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she went,
It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed her

To feek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where, in a frenzy, in my mafter's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts

With unchafte purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour What became of him,

:

I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the story

I flew him there.

Cym.