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In solem show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.-Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.

On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropp'd.

Cas.

O noble weakness!-
If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.'

Dol.

Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: The like is on her arm.

1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these

leaves

Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves
Upon the caves of Nile.

Cæs.

Most probable,

That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die.-Take up her bed ;
And bear her women from the monument:-
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip3 in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them: and their story is
No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,

(1) Graceful appearance.
(2) Tried experiments.

(3) Enfold.

[Exeunt.

This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick fig-succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward without intermission, from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleopatra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, according to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others: the most tumid speech in the play is that which Cæsar makes to Octavia.

The events, of which the principal are described according to history, are produced without any art of connection or care of disposition.

JOHNSON.

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ACT I.

SCENE I-Britain. The garden behind Cym-
beline's palace. Enter Two Gentlemen.
1 Gentleman.

You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods'
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers;
Still seem, as does the king's.
2 Gent.
But what's the matter?
1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his king-
dom, whom

He purpos'd to his wife's sole son (a widow,
That late he married,)hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: She's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king
Be touch'd at very heart.

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2 Gent.
None but the king?
1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the

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His measure duly."
2 Gent.
What's his name, and birth?
1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;
But had his titles by Tenantius, whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success:
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o'the time,
Died with their swords in hand; for which their
father

(Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
(Which rare it is to do,) most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the graver, 5
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price
a Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.

(3) My praise, however extensive, is within his merit.

2 Gent.

I honour him
But, 'pray you, tell me,

Even out of your report.
Is she sole child to the king?

1 Gent.
His only child..
He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old,
I'the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stolen and to this hour, no guess in know-
ledge
Which way they went.
2 Gent.

How long is this ago? 1 Gent. Some twenty years.

(4) The father of Cymbeline.
(5) Formed their manners.

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con- | You gentle gods, give me but this I have, vey'd !

So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them!

1 Gent.

Howsoe'r 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent.

I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen.

Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,

After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,

I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,

You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Post.

I will from hence to-day. Queen.

Please your highness,

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You know the peril :I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together.

Imo.

[Exit Queen.

O,

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband,

I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing (Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what

His rage can do on me: You must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Post.

My queen? my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth My residence in Rome at one Philario's; Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall.

Re-enter Queen.

Queen.
Be brief, I pray you:
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure:-Yet I'll move him
[Aside.

To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.
[Exit.
Post.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!
Imo. Nay, stay, a little:

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.

Post.

And sear up' my embracements from a next With bonds of death!-Remain thou here

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How! how! another?-A drop of blood a day;

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Nay, let her languish

and, being aged,

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