That it is place, which leffens, and sets off.

And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:

That fervice is not fervice, fo being done,
But being fo allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we fee:
And often, to our comfort, fhall we find
The fharded beetle in a fafer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk :

Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncrofs'd: no life to ours.

Guid. 'Out of your proof you fpeak: we, poor unfledg❜d,

Have never wing'd from view o' the neft; nor know not
What air's from home. Haply, this life is beft,
If quiet life be best; fweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well correfponding
With your ftiff age: but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed ;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares

To ftride a limit.

So being done, but being fo allow'd:]-in virtue of the mere performance, but from its acceptance with the perfon for whom we do it. P The Sharded beetle]-whofe wings are inclosed within two huks, or fhards, like fcales;-dwelling among rubbish, lodged in dung. MACBETH, A& III. S. 2. Mach.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A& III. S. 2. Ene. attending for a check;]-a ftate of abject fervility, or subjection to the control and caprice of another.

66

devote to Ariftotle's checks"—the harsh rules of Ariftotle. TAMING OF A SHREW, Vol. II. p. 284. Tra bauble, formerly fo fpelt, the trappings of an unmerited title. the cap of him,]—the bows of the mercer.

Out of your proof]-From your own experience.

To fride a limit.]-To go beyond his prescribed bounds.

Arv. What should we fpeak of,

When we are as old as you? when we' fhall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, fhall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have feen nothing:
We are beaftly; fubtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chace what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prifon'd bird,
And fing our bondage freely.

Bel. How you speak!

Did you but know the city's ufuries,

:

And felt them knowingly the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or fo flippery, that

The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war,

A pain that only feems to feek out danger

I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the fearch; And hath as oft a flanderous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many times,

Dothill deserve by doing well; what's worse,

y

Muft curt'fy at the cenfure:-O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
First with the beft of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,

Whofe boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one night,
A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will,

What should we speak of,]-What fund of amufing converfation fhall we be furnished with.

aquire]-a choir.

ill deferve]-difoblige.
curt'y-bear it patiently.

Shook

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Guid. Uncertain favour!

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft)
But that two villains, whofe falfe oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans; fo,

Follow'd my banishment; and, these twenty years,
This rock, and these demefnes, have been my world:
Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; pay'd
More pious debts to heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains;
This is not hunters' language: He, that strikes
The venifon firft, fhall be the lord o' the feast;
To him the other two fhall minifter

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

[Exeunt Guid. and Arv. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature!

These boys know little, they are fons to the king;

Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly

a

I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit

The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,

In fimple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,-

ช

b

and left me open, bare,

every form that blows."

TIMON OF ATHENS, A&t IV. S. 3. Tim. a wherein they bow,]-whofe roof, as before observed, was fo low, that at its entrance, they were forced to ftoop or bow-whereon the bow-where their thoughts, when fixed on the bow, the bend, or arch, hit the roofs, &c.—-though their condition be low, their thoughts are high. the trick]-fashion, manner.

The

The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius,—Jove !
When on my three-foot ftool I fit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his fpirits fly out
Into my story: fay,-Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I fet my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
(Once, Arviragus) in as like a figure,

d

Strikes life into my fpeech, and fhews much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rouz'd !—
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,

At three, and two years old, I ftole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of fucceffion, as

Thou reft'ft me of my lands. Euriphile,

Thou waft their nurfe; they took thee for their mother,

And every day do honour to thy grave:

Myfelf, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,

They take for natural father. The game is up.

[Exit.

Imo. Thou told'ft me, when we came from horse, the

place

Was near at hand :-Ne'er long'd my mother fo

To fee me firft, as I have now :-Pifanio! Man!
Where is Pofthumus? What is in thy mind,

That makes thee ftare thus? Wherefore breaks that figh From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

h

In a "haviour of lefs fear, ere wildness

Vanquish my staider fenfes. What's the matter?
Why tender'ft thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be fummer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st

But keep that countenance ftill.-My husband's hand!
That 'drug-damn'd Italy hath out-crafted him,
And he's at fome hard point.-Speak, man; thy tongue
May take off fome extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal to me.

Pif. Please you, read;

And you fhall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most difdain'd of fortune.

Imogen reads.

Thy mistress, Pifanio, bath play'd the ftrumpet in my bed; the teftimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak furmifes; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pifanio, must alt for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I fhall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven: fhe bath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to ftrike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me difloyal.

Pif. What shall I need to draw my fword? the Hath cut her throat already.—No, 'tis flander;

paper

& felf-explication :]-his own power of explaining. hhaviour]-behaviour-put on a lefs alarming afpect.

i drug-damn'd]-infamous for the art of poifoning-out-craftied.

Whole