Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose. lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins,He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch! In fuit the place of his bed, and win this ring Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring; Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it Remember me at court, where I was taught 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 Britain 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 Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown In fuit]-By courtship. a carbuncle, &c.]-ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A& I. S. 8. Am. I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,- Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft, [Coming forward. Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool, That's due to all the villains paft, in being, To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, A facrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple S Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd, Pofthumus Leonatus; and Be villainy less than 'twas!-O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear Poft. Shall's have a play of this? Thou fcornful page, There lie thy part. Pif. O, gentlemen, help [Striking her, he falls. Mine, and your mistress-O, 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 thefe ftaggers on me? Pif. Wake, my mistress! Cym. If this be fo, the gods do mean to ftrike me To death with mortal joy. jufticer!]-difpenfer of justice. • She herself.]-virtue herself. thefe ftaggers]-this delirium, wild perturbation. Pif. How fares my mistress?, Imo. O, get thee from my fight; Thou gav'ft me poifon : dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. The tune of Imogen! Pif. Lady, the gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Imo. It poifon'd me. Cor. O gods! I left out one thing which the queen confefs'd, Cym. What's this, Cornelius? Cor. The queen, fir, very oft importun❜d me Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? Bel. My boys, There was our error. Guid. This is fure Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? W Think, that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again. [Rufbing into his arms. 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, fir. [Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame you not; You had a motive for't. Cym, My tears, that fall, [To Guiderius and Arviragus. Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Imo. I am forry for❜t, my lord. Cym. O, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely: But her fon Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pif. My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's miffing, came to me With his fword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and fwore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death: By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's w and now throw me again, &c.]-If you doubt my fidelity, repeat your violence, and may my fecond fall prove fatal. * Hang there]-about my neck, till the frame, that now fupports you, fhall decay. a dullard]—a perfon ftupidly unconcerned, a dolt. My Cym. Marry, the gods forefend! I would not thy good deeds fhould from my lips Guid. I have spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Guid. A moft incivil one: The wrongs he did me And am right glad, he is not standing here Cym. I am forry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Imo. That headless man thought had been my lord. Cym. Bind the offender, And take him from our prefence. Bel. Stay, fir king: This man is better than the man he flew, They were not born for bondage. Cym. Why, old foldier, [To the guard. Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, Had ever fear for.]-for meriting, or attempting to merit. VOL. III. S By |