'THE Tragedie of Cymbeline · was first printed in the | on every side by a determination of purpose, whether in folio collection of 1623. The play is very carefully the shape of violence, wickedness, or folly, against which, divided into acts and scenes--an arrangement which | under ordinary circumstances, innocence may be sup‐ is sometimes wanting in other plays of this edition. posed to be an insufficient shield. But the very help Printed as Cymbeline' must have been from a manu-lessness of Imogen is her protection. In the exquisite script, the text, although sometimes difficult, presents few examples of absolute error. In 'Cymbeline,' we are thrown back into the halffabulous history of our own country, and see all objects under the dim light of uncertain events and manners. We have civilisation contending with semi-barbarism; the gorgeous worship of the Pagan world subduing to itself the more simple worship of the Druidical times; kings and courtiers surrounded with the splendour of "barbaric pearl and gold ;" and, even in those days of simplicity, a wilder and a simpler life, amidst the fastnesses of mountains, and the solitude of caves-the hunters' life, who "have seen nothing," but who yet, in their natural piety, know "how to adore the heavens." If these attributes of the drama had been less absorbing, we perhaps might have more readily seen the real course of the dramatic action. We venture to express our opinion, that one predominant idea does exist. The dialogue of the "two Gentlemen" in the opening scene makes us perfectly acquainted with the relations in which Posthumus and Imogen stand to each other, and to those around them. "She's wedded, | her husband banish'd." We have next the character of the banished husband, and of the unworthy suitor who is the cause of his banishment; as well as the story of the king's two lost sons. This is essentially the foundation of the past and future of the action. Brief indeed is this scene, but it well prepares us for the parting of Posthumus and Imogen. The course of their affections is turned awry by the wills of others. The angry king at once proclaims himself to us as one not cruel, but weak; he has before been described as “touch'd at very heart." It is only in the intensity of her affection for Posthumus that Imogen opposes her own will to the impatient violence of her father, and the more crafty decision of her step-mother. But she is surrounded with a third evil,— "A father cruel, and a step-dame false, A foolish suitor to a wedded lady." Worse, however, even than these, her honour is to be assailed, her character vilified, by a subtle stranger; who, perhaps more in sport than in malice, has resolved to win a paltry wager by the sacrifice of her happiness and that of her husband. What has she to oppose to all this complication of violence and cunning? Her perfect purity-her entire simplicity-her freedom from everything that is selfish-the strength only of her affections. The scene between Iachimo and Imogen is a contest of innocence with guile, most profoundly affecting, in spite of the few coarsenesses that were perhaps unavoidable, and which were not considered offensive in Shakspere's day. This is the First Act; and, if we mistake not the object of Shakspere, these opening scenes exhibit one of the most confiding and gentle of human beings, assailed Second Scene of the Second Act, the perfect purity of Imogen, as interpreted by Shakspere, has converted what would have been a most dangerous situation in the hands of another poet, into one of the most refined delicacy.-The immediate danger is passed; but there is a new danger approaching. The will of her unhappy husband, deceived into madness, is to be added to the evils which she has already received from violence and selfishness. Posthumus, intending to destroy her, writes "Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven; what your own love will out of this advise you, follow.” She does follow her own love;-she has no other guide but the strength of her affections; that strength makes her hardy and fearless of consequences. It is the que duty, as well as the one pleasure, of her existence. How is that affection requited? Pisanio places in her hand, when they have reached the deepest solitude of the mountains, that letter by which he is commanded to take away her life. One passing thought of herself— one faint reproach of her husband,—and she submits to the fate which is prepared for her.-But her truth and innocence have already subdued the will of the swor servant of her husband. He comforts her, but he necessarily leaves her in the wilderness. The spells of evil wills are still around her : " "My noble mistress, Here is a box, I had it from the queen." Perhaps there is nothing in Shakspere more beautifully managed,-more touching in its romance,—more essertially true to nature,-than the scenes between Imagen and her unknown brothers. The gentleness, the grace, the "grief and patience," of the helpless Fidele, preducing at once the deepest reverence and affection in the bold and daring mountaineers, still carry forward the character of Imogen under the same aspects. "The bird is dead;" she was sick, and we almost fear that the words of the dirge are true.-But she awakes. and she has still to endure the last and the worst evil-her husband, in her apprehension, lies dead before her. She has no wrongs to think of-“O my lord, my lord," is all, in connexion with Posthumus, that escapes amidst her tears. The beauty and innocence which saved her from Iachimo,-which conquered Pisanio,-which won the wild hunters,—commend her te the Roman general—she is at once protected. But she has holy duties still to perform.—It is the unconquerable affection of Imogen which makes us pity Posthumus, even while we blame him for the rash exercise of his revengeful will. But in his deep repentance we more than pity him. We see only another victim of worldly craft and selfishness. In the prison scene his spirit is again united with hers.-The contest we now feel is over between the selfish and the unselfish, the crafty and the simple, the proud and the meek, the violent and the gentle. 5 CYMBELINE. PERSONS REPRESENTED. CYMBELINE, King of Britain. Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act II. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1; sc. 5. CLOTEN, Son to the Queen, by a former husband. Appears, Act 1. sc. 3. sc. 5. Act II. sc. 1; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS, husband to Imogen. Appears, Act I. sc. 2; sc. 5. Act II. sc. 4; sc. 5. Act V. sc. 1. sc. 2; sc. 3; sc. 4; sc. 5. BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act V. GUIDERIUS, son to Cymbeline, disguised under the ARVIRAGUS, Son to Cymbeline, disguised under the PHILARIO, a Roman, friend to Posthumus. IACHIMO, a Roman, friend to Posthumus. sc. 2; sc. 5. A French Gentleman, friend to Philario. CAIUS LUCIUS, general of the Roman forces. sc. 5. A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. Appear, Act V. sc. 3. PISANIO, gentleman to Posthumus. Appears, Act 1. sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 6; sc. 7. Act II. sc. 3. Act IIL CORNELIUS, a physician. Appears, Act I. sc. 6. Act V. sc. 5. Two Gentlemen of Cymbeline's Court. Two Gaolers. QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline. Appears, Act I. sc. 2; sc. 6. Act II. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1; sc. 5. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Appari- SCENE,- -SOMETIMES IN BRITAIN; SOMETIMES IN ROME. 1 Gent. You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers Still seem as does the king." But what 's the matter? 2 Gent. son, (a widow, He purpos'd to his wife's sole 2 Gent. None but the king? 1 Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, 2 Gent. And why so? 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, I mean, that married her,-alack, good man!— Blood is used by Shakspere for natural disposition. The meaning of the passage then is-You do not meet a man but fr owns: our bloods do not more obey the heavens than our courtiers still seem as the king seems. And therefore banish'd,) is a creature such 2 Gent. You speak him far. 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself, Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father And had, besides this gentleman in question, Died with their swords in hand; for which, their father Puts to him all the learnings that his time If the king come, I shall incur I know not To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries to be friends;" Pays dear for my offences. Post. [Aside [Erit Should we be taking leave Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Post. How! how! another?- [Putting on the ring Imo. [Putting a bracelet on her arm. O, the gods! When shall we see again? [Exeunt. Post. Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience Post. I will from hence to-day. Queen. Please your highness, 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. [Exit QUEEN. Imo. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant His rage can do on me: You must be gone; Of angry eyes; not comforted to live, But that there is this jewel in the world, Post. My queen! my mistress! Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Alack, the king! Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Cym. A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son! Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me! 2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. [Aside. 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. [Aside. Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber: 'Would there had been some hurt done! 1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. [Exit. Clo. Nay, come, let's go together. 2 Lord. Well, my lord. Dear lady daughter, peace.-Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort 2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. Clo. You'll go with us? [Aside. A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! 1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice: Where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? 2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. [Aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt. 2 Lord. His steel was in debt: it went o' the back side the town. [Aside. 2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. [Aside. I Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground. Clo. The villain would not stand me. 2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans : Puppies! [Aside. Clo. I would they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. [Aside. [Exeunt. No, madam; for so long As he could make me with his eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove or hat or handkerchief Etill waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship. Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him, I am in heaven for him; or ere I could SCENE V.-Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House. Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, and a Frenchman. Iach. Believe it, sir: I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note; expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of: but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration; though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items. Phi. You speak of him when he was less furnished, than now he is, with that which makes him both without and within. French. I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. Iach. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, (wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. French. And then his banishment Iach. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours, are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life :Enter POSTHUMUS. Here comes the Briton: Let him be so entertained amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality.-I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine: How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still. French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. b Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller: rather shunned to go even with what I heard, than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: but, upon my mended judgment, (if I offend not to say it is mended,) my quarrel was not altogether slight. French. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords; and by such two that would, by all likelihood, have confounded one the other, or have fallen both. Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? French. Safely, I think : 't was a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses: This gentleman at that time vouching (and upon warrant of bloody aflirmation) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant-qualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in France. Iach. That lady is not now living; or this gentleman's opinion, by this, worn out. Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, I "Atone-to make at one. Importance-import, matter. would abate her nothing; though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. lach. As fair, and as good. (a kind of hand-in-hand comparison,) had been something too fair, and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went before others 1 have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many : but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. Post. I praised her as I rated her so do I my stone. Iach. What do you esteem it at? Post. More than the world enjoys. lach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, cr she's outprized by a trifle. Post. You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase, c merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. Iach. Which the gods have given you? Iach. You may wear her in title yours: but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so, your brace of unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual; cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress; if 1 the holding or the loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding I fear not my ring. Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen. Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signier, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. Iach. With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress: make her go back, even to the yielding; had I admittance and opportunity to friend. Post. No, no. Iach. I dare, thereupon, pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something: But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. Post. You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you `re wothy of by your attempt. Iach. What's that? Post. A repulse: Though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more,-a punishment too. Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too snd denly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted. Iach. Would I had put my estate, and my neighbour's, on the approbation of what I have spoke. Post. What lady would you choose to assail? Iach. Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved. Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; t is part of it. lach. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. It you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: But, I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. Iach. I am the master of my speeches; and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. a Convince-overcome. |