Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes,' ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't!-'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper
Bows toward her; and would underpeep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd
With blue of heaven's own tinct."-But my design?
To note the chamber:-I will write all down:-
Such, and such, pictures :-There the window :-
Such

The adornment of her bed ;-The arras, figures, Why, such, and such:-And the contents o' the story,

Ay, but some natural notes about her body,
Above ten thousand meaner moveables
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory:
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,
Thus in a chapei lying!-Come off, come off;-
[Taking off her Bracelet.
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!-
"Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the conscience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make this secret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what
end?

Why should I write this down, that's riveted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus ; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up ;-I have enough:
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!

dawning

May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. One, two, three,-Time, time!

that

[Clock strikes.

[Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. SCENE III. An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imogen's Apartment. Enter CLOTEN and Lords. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace.

Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and furious, when you win.

1 It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes. This passage may serve as a comment on the 'ravishing strides of Tarquin, in Macbeth, as it shows that Shakspeare meant softly stealing strides ' 2 no lips did seem so fair

In his conceit; through which he thinks doth flie
So sweet a breath that doth perfume the air."
Pygmalion's Image, by Marston, 1598.

3 That is, her eyelids. So in Romeo and Juliet :-Thy eyes' windows fall

Like death when he shuts up the day of life.' 4 Warburton wished to read :-

White with azure lac'd,

The blue of heaven's own tinct.' But there is no necessity for change. It is an exact description of the eyelid of a fair beauty, which is white tinged with blue, and laced with veins of darker blue. By azure our ancestors understood not a dark blue, but a light glaucous colour, a tinct or effusion of a blue colour. 5 Tereus and Progne is the second tale in A Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 4to. 1576. The story is related in Ovid, Metam. 1. vi.; and by Gower in his Confessio Amantis, b. v. fol. 113, b.

6 The task of drawing the chariot of Night was as

Clo. Winning would put any man into courage: If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough: It's almost morning, is't not? 1 Lord. Day, my lord.

Clo. I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.

Enter Musicians.

Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue, too. if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider.

SONG.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,"
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With every thing that pretty bin :
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.

So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians.

Enter CYMBELINE and Queen.

2 Lord. Here comes the king.

Clo. I am glad, I was up so late; for, that's the reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly.-Good morrow to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?

Will she not forth?

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him: some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours. Queen. You are most bound to the king; Who lets go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness of the season:10 make denials Increase your services: so seem, as if You tender to her; that you in all obey her, You were inspir'd to do those duties which Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. Clo.

Senseless? not so.

signed to dragons, on account of their supposed watchfulness. Milton mentions the dragon yoke of night' in II Penseroso; and in his Comus:the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness.' Again, In Obitum Præsulis Eliensis :sub pedibus deam Vidi triformem, dum coërcebat suos Frænis dracones aureis.'

It may be remarked that the whole tribe of serpents sleep with their eyes open, and therefore appear to exert a constant vigilance.

7 The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradise Lost, book v.

ye birds

That singing up to heaven's gate ascend.' And in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet:

Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate. 8 The morning dries up the dew which lies in the cups of flowers called calices, or chalices. The marigold is one of those flowers which closes itself up at sunset. the day is waxen olde, And 'gins to shut up with the marigold.' Browne; Britania's Pastorals.

9 i. e. I will pay you more amply for it. 10' With solicitations not only proper but well timed.'

What means do you make to him?
Post. Not any; but abide the change of time;
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish
That warmer days would come: in these fear'd
hopes,

I barely gratify your love; they failing,
I must die much your debtor.

I do believe,

Phi. Your very goodness, and your company, O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius Will do his commission throughly: And, I think, He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, Or1 look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. Post. (Statist though I am none, nor like to be,) That this will prove a war; and shall hear The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd, than when Julius Cæsar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline, (Now mingled with their courages,) will make

known

you

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach.

If I have lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy

1 Or stands here for ere. Respecting the tribute here alluded to, see the Preliminary Remarks. 2 i. e. statesman.

3 That is, to those who try them.' The old copy, by a common typographical error in the preceding line, has wingled instead of mingled, which odd reading Steevens seemed inclined to adopt, and explains it, 'their discipline borrowing wings from their courage.'

4 This speech is given to Posthumus in the old copy; but Posthumus was employed in reading his letters, and was too much interested in the end of Iachimo's journey to put an indifferent question of this nature. It was transferred to Philario at the suggestion of Steevens. 5 i. e. that which was well worth watching or lying awake [for]. See the preceding scene. 6 Mason proposes to read :

Such the true life on't was.'

It is a typographical error easily made: and the emendation deserves a place in the text.

If you keep covenant: Had I not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question further: but I now
Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.
Post.
If you can make't apparent
That you have tasted her in bed, my hand,
And ring is yours: if not, the foul opinion
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses,
Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both
To who shall find them.

Iach.
Sir, my circumstances,
Being so near the truth, as I will make them,
Must first induce you to believe: whose strength
I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not,
You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find
You need it not.

Post. Iach.

Proceed.

First, her bed-chamber (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess, Had that was well worth watching,) It was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride: a piece of work In workmanship, and value: which, I wonder'd, So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was

Post.

This is true;

And this you might have heard of here, by me,
Or by some other.
Iach.
More particulars
Must justify my knowledge.
Post.

So they must,
Or do your honour injury.
Iach.
The chimney
Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece,
Chaste Dian, bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb;" outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.

Post.

This is a thing, Which you might from relation likewise reap; Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach.

The roof o' the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons (I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands."

7 i. e. so near speech. A speaking picture is a common figurative mode of expression. The meaning of the latter part of the sentence is: The sculptor was as nature dumb; he gave every thing that nature gives but breath and motion. In breath is included speech. 8 Steevens says, this tawdry image occurs in King Henry VIII.:-their dwarfish pages were

As cherubins all gilt. By the very mention of cherubins his indignation is moved. The sole recommendation of this Gothic idea, (says he,) which is critically repeated by modern artists, seems to be, that it occupies but little room on canvass or marble; for chubby unmeaning faces, with ducks' wings tucked under them, are all the circumstances that enter into such infantine and absurd representations of the choirs of heaven.'

9 It is well known that the andirons of our ancestors were sometimes costly pieces of furniture; the standards were often, as in this instance, of silver, and representing some terminal figure or device; the transverse or

were what Shakspeare here calls the brands, properly

Post. This is her honour!

Let it be granted, you have seen all this (and praise
Be given to your remembrance,) the description
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves
The wager you have laid.
Iach.

Then, if you can,
[Pulling out the Bracelet.
Be pale; I beg but leave to air this jewel: See!-
And now 'tis up again: it must be married
To that your diamond; I'll keep them.
Post.

Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iach.

Jove!

Sir (I thank her,) that:
She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,

And yet enrich'd it too: She gave it me, and said,
She priz'd it once.
Post.

May be, she pluck'd it off,

To send it me.
Iach.
She writes so to you? doth she?
Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this
[Gives the Ring.

too;

It is a basilisk unto mine eye,
Kills me to look on't:-Let there be no honour,
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance;
love,

Where there's another man: The vows of women
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Than they are to their virtues: which is nothing:
O, above measure false !

Phi.

Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won: It may be probable, she lost it; or, Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted,

Hath stolen it from her.

Never talk on't;

This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of

Post.

She hath been colted by him.
Iach.

If you seek
For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing,) lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging: By my life,
I kiss'd it: and it gave me present hunger
To feed again, though full. You do remember
This stain upon her?

brandirons. Upon these the Cupids which formed the standards nicely depended, seemed to stand on one foot. 1 The meaning seems to be, 'If you ever can be palebe pale now with jealousy.

Pale jealousy, child of insatiate love.' Not, as Johnson says, forbear to flush your cheek with rage. Mr. Boswell's conjecture that it meant, 'If you can control your temper, if you can restrain yourself within bounds,' is surely inadmissible.

2 It was anciently the custom for the servants of great families (as it is now for the servants of the king) to take an oath of fidelity on their entrance into office. See Percy's Northumberland Household Book, p. 49.

3 The badge, the token, the visible proof. So in King Henry IV. Part I.:

As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate.' 4 i. e. avert his wrath from himself, prevent him from injuring himself in his rage.

With all my heart.

[Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. Another Room in the same. Enter POSTHUMUS.

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.-O, vengeance, vengeance! And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, A puidency so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought

her

As chaste as unsunn'd snow ;-O, all the devils!-
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was't not?-
Or less,--at first: Perchance he spoke not; but,
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
Cry'd, oh! and mounted: found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all :

For ev'n to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them: Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better." [Exit.

5 Milton was probably indebted to this speech for one of the sentiments which he has imputed to Adam, Par Lost, b. x.:

O, why did God,

Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven
With spirits masculine, create at last
This novelty on earth, this fair defect
Of nature, and not fill the world at once
With men, as angels, without feminine,
Or find some other way to generate
Mankind?

See Rhodomonte's invective against women in the Or lando Furioso; and above all a speech which Euripides has put into the mouth of Hippolytus, in the tragedy of that name.

6 We have the same image in Measure for Measure:"Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image In stamps that are forbid.'

See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sect. 3. 7 God could not lightly do a man more vengeance, than in this world to grant him his own foolish wishes Sir T. More's Comfort against Tribulation.