Was as a scorpion to her fight; whofe life,

But that her flight prevented it, fhe had
Ta'en off by poison.

Cym. O most delicate fiend!

Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more?

Cor. More, fir, and worfe. She did confess, she had
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring,
By inches wafte you: In which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kiffing, to
O'ercome you with her fhew: yes, and in time,
(When she had fitted you with her craft) to work
Her fon into the adoption of the crown.
But failing of her end by his ftrange abfence,
Grew fhameless-defperate; open'd, in despight
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The ills fhe hatch'd were not effected; fo,
Despairing, dy'd.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women?
Lady. We did, fo please your highness.
Cym. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,

That thought her like her feeming; it had been vicious, To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!

That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,

And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prifoners; Poft. bumus bebind, and Imogen.

Thou com'ft not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the lofs
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made fuit,
That their good fouls may be appeas'd with flaughter

Of

Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
So, think of your estate.

Luc. Confider, fir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,

We fhould not, when the blood was cold, have threaten'd
Our prisoners with the fword. But fince the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: fufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can fuffer:
Auguftus lives to think on't: And fo much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page fo kind, fo duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occafions, true,
So'feat, fo nurfe-like: let his virtue join

With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness
Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have serv'd a Roman : fave him, fir,
And spare no blood befide.

Cym. I have furely seen him;

* His favour is familiar to me:-Boy,

Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, and art
Mine own.
I know not why, wherefore, I fay,
Live, boy ne'er thank thy master; live:
And afk of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy ftate, I'll give it;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,

The nobleft ta'en.

Imo. I humbly thank your highness.

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet, I know, thou wilt.

1 feat,]-adroit, clever.

His favour is familiar to me :]-I am well acquainted with his

countenance.

Imo. No, no; alack,

There's other work in hand; I fee a thing
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
Muft fhuffle for itself.

Luc. The boy difdains me,

He leaves me, fcorns me: Briefly die their joys,
That place them on the truth of girls and boys. -
Why ftands he fo perplex'd?

Cym. What wouldst thou, boy?

I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to afk. Know'ft him thou look'st on? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,

Than I to your highnels; who, being born your vassal, Am fomething nearer.

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him fo?

Imo. I'll tell you, fir, in private, if you please

To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my beft attention. What's thy name?

Imo. Fidele, fir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy mafter: Walk with me; speak freely.

[Cymbeline and Imogen walk afide.

Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?

Arv. One fand another

Not more resembles: That fweet rofy lad,

Who dy'd, and was Fidele-What think you?

Guid. The fame dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! fee further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am fure

He would have spoke to us.

Guid. But we saw him dead.

Bel. Be filent; let's fee further.

Pif. It is my mistress:

Since he is living, let the time run on,

To good, or bad.

[Afide.

[Cymb. and Imogen come forward.

Cym. Come, ftand thou by our fide; Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, ftep you

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatnefs, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall

forth;

[To Iachimo.

Winnow the truth from falfhood.-On, fpeak 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 fpoke, would torture thee.

Cym. How! me?

[Afide.

Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which Torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel,

Whom thou didst banifh; and (which more may grieve

thee,

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

'Twixt fky and ground. Wilt thou 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:

Quail]-Sink into dejection, droop.

there's no quailing now."

HENRY IV. Part I. A&t IV. S. 1. Hot.

I had rather thou shouldft 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, (O, 'would
Our viands had been poifon'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Pofthumus,
What should I fay? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones) fitting fadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the fwell'd boast
Of him that beft could fpeak: " for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva,
Poftures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop 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.

Iach. All too foon I fhall,

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

That had a royal lover) took his hint;

And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein

He was as calm as virtue) he began

His mistress' 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 defcription
Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

for feature, laming, &c.]-for fymmetry or proportion of parts, difparaging the ftatues of Venus and erect Minerva, whofe graceful attitudes were carried to fuch a pitch of perfection, as hasty, unelaborate nature feldom reaches; for mental endowments, a compound of all amiable qualities, befides the attractive bait of a fair complexion.

Cym