Phi.

Sir, be patient:

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?

Post.

Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold,

Were there no more but it.

If you will swear you have not done't, you lie;
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny

Thou hast made me cuckold.

Iach.

I will deny nothing.

Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there, and do't; i'the court; before Her father:-I'll do something

Phi.

[Exit.

Quite besides The government of patience!-You have won: Let's follow him, and pervert 13 the present wrath He hath against himself.

Iach.

With all my heart.

[Exeunt.

13 i. e. avert his wrath from himself, prevent him from injuring himself in his rage.

The same.

SCENE V.

Another Room in the same.

Enter POSTHUMUS.

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers1? 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!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with
A pudency 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,

1 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 Orlando Furioso; and above all a speech which Euripides has put into the mouth of Hippolytus, in the tragedy of that name.

2 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.

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 better3. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Britain. A Room of State in
Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one Door; and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS, and Attendants.

Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?

Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever), was in this Britain,

3 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.

And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle
(Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deserving it), for him,
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately
Is left untender'd.

Queen.

Shall be so ever.

Clo.

And, to kill the marvel,

There be many Cæsars,

Ere such another Julius. Britain is
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,
For wearing our own noses.

Queen.

That opportunity, Which then they had to take from us, to resume We have again.-Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors; together with The natural bravery of your isle; which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats, But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag Of, came, and saw, and overcame; with shame (The first that ever touch'd him), he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, (Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof, The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point (0, giglot1 fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,

1 O false and inconstant fortune!' A giglot was a strumpet. So in Measure for Measure, vol. ii. p. 106:-' Away with those giglots too.' And in Hamlet:

'Out, out, thou strumpet fortune!"

The poet has transferred to Cassibelan an adventure which happened to his brother Nennius. See Holinshed, book iii. ch. xiii. "The same historie also maketh mention of Nennius, brother to

Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses: but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand.—Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambition
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o' the world), against all colour2, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fran-
chise,

Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
(Though Rome be therefore angry); Mulmutius made
our laws,

Who was the first of Britain, which did put

Cassibelane, who in fight happened to get Cæsar's sword fastened in his shield, by a blow which Cæsar stroke at him. But Nennius died, within 15 daies after the battel, of the hurt received at Cæsar's hand; although after he was hurt he slew Labienus, one of the Roman tribunes.'

2 i. e. without any pretence of right.