CYMBELINE. A C T I. Y SCENE I. Cymbeline's Palace in Britaine. Enter two Gentlemen. I GENTLEMAN. OU do not meet a man, but frowns: No more obey the heavens than our But feem, as does the King's. 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 1 You do not meet a man, but frowns: our BLOODS No more obey the heavens than our Courtiers ; I Gent. But feem, as does the King's.] The thought is this, we are not now (as we were wont) influenced by the weather but by the King's looks. We no more obey the heavens [the sky] than our Courtiers obey the heavens [God] By which it appears, that the reading-our bloods is wrong. For tho' the blood may be affected with the weather, yet that affection is discovered not by change of colour, but by change of countenance. And it is the outward not the inward change that is here talked of, as appears from the word feem. We fhould read therefore, -Our BROWS No more obey the heavens &c. Q.3 Which 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of's Kingdom, (whom He purpos'd to his wife's fole fon, a widow That late he married) hath referr'd herself Her husband banish'd; fhe imprifon'd: All 2 Gent. None but the King?. Gent. He, that hath loft her, too: fo is the That most defir'd the match. But not a courtier, 2 Gent. And why fo? 1 Gent. He that hath mifs'd the Princess, is a thing Which is evident from the preceding words, But not a Courtier, Altho' they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's look, but hath a heart that is The Oxford Editor improves upon this emendation, and reads, our looks No more obey the heart ev'n than our courtiers; But by venturing too far, at a fecond emendation, he has ftript it of all thought and fentiment, I 2 Gent. 1 Gent. I don't extend him, Sir: Within himself Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure fully. 2 Gent. What's his name and birth? I Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: his father Was called Sicillius, who did join his honour And had, befides this gentleman in question, (Then old and fond of iffue) took such sorrow, Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber: 2 You Speak bim far.] . . largely in his praife. Shakespear with his common licence, only ufes the length for the breadth. 3 I DO EXTEND him, Sir, within himself; Crub him together,] Thus the late Editor, Mr. Theobald, has given the paffage, and explained it in this manner; I extend him within the lifts and compass of his merit: Which is juft as proper as to fay, I go out within doors. To extend a thing within itself is the most infufferable nonfenfe: because the very etymology of the word fhews, that it fignifies the drawing out any thing BEYOND its lifts and compass. Befides, a common attention was fufficient to perceive that Shakespear, in this fentence, used extend and crub together, as the direct oppofites to one another; which, in this Editor's fenfe, they are not; but only different degrees of the fame thing. We fhould read and point the paffage thus, I DON'T EXTEND him, Sir: within himself i. e. I do not extend him; on the contrary I crush him together. Q4 Puts Puts to him all the Learnings that his time His fpring became a harvest: liv'd in Court What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. I honour him, ev❜n out of your report. But tell me, is fhe fole child to the King? i Gent. His only child. He had two fons, (if this be worth your hearing 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a King's children fhould be fo convey'd, So flackly guarded, and the fearch fo flow That could not trace them, I Gent. Howfoe'er 'tis ftrange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, 2 Gent. I do well believe you. I Gent. We muft forbear. Here comes the Gentle man, The Queen, and Princess, [Exeunt, SCENE Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and attendants. Queen. No, be affur'd, you shall not find me, daughter, After the flander of most step-mothers, I'll-ey'd unto you: You're my pris'ner, but That lock up your reftraint. For you, Pofthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet, Poft. Please your Highness, I will from hence to day. Queen. You know the peril : I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying His rage can do on me. You must be gone, Poft. My Queen! my Mistress! The loyall'ft husband, that did e'er plight troth; Known |