Bel. We're all undone!

Guid. Why, worthy father, what have we to lofe, But what he fwore to take, our lives? the law Protects not us; then why should we be tender, To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us? Play judge, and executioner, all himself? For we do fear the law. What company Discover you abroad?

Bel. No fingle foul

Can we fet eye on; but, in all fafe reason,
He must have fome attendants. Though his honour
Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that

From one bad thing to worse; yet not his frenzy,
Not abfolute madness, could fo far have rav'd,
To bring him here alone; although, perhaps,
It may be heard at court, that fuch as we
Cave here, haunt here, are Out-laws, and in time
May make fome ftronger head: the which he hearing,
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear,
He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable

To come alone, nor he fo undertaking,

Nor they fo fuffering; then on good ground we fear, If I do fear, this body hath a tail

More perilous than the head.

Arv. Let ordinance

Come, as the Gods forefay it; how foe'er,

My brother hath done well.

Bel. I had no mind

To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's fickness

Did make my way long forth.

3

Guid. With his own fword,

Though his honour

Was nothing but mutation,] Mr. Theobald, as ufual, not understanding this, turns honour to humour. But the text is right, and means that the only notion he had of honour, was the fashion, which was perpetually changing. A fine ftroke of fatire, well expreffed: yet the Oxford Editor follows Mr. Theobald.

Which he did waye against my throat, I've ta'en
His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
Behind our rock; and let it to the fea,

And tell the fishes, he's the Queen's fon, Cloten.

4 That's all I reck.

Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd:

[Exit.

'Would, Paladour, thou hadît not done't! though

valour

Becomes thee well enough.

Arv. 'Would I had done't,

So the revenge alone purfu'd me! Paladour,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much,

Thou❜ft robb'd me of this deed; I would, revenges,
That poffible strength might meet, would feek us thro',
And put us to our answer.

Bel. Well, 'tis done:

We'll hunt no more to day, nor feek for danger

Where there's no profit.

Pr'ythee, to our rock,

You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll ftay

'Till hafty Paladour return, and bring him To dinner presently.

Arv. Poor fick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a marifh of fuch Clotens blood,

And praise myself for charity.

Bel. O thou Goddess,

[Exit,

Thou divine Nature! how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! they are as gentle,
As Zephyrs blowing below the violet,

4 That's all I reck.] i. e. care.

Mr. Pope. 5 Pd let a PARISH of fuch Clotens blood,] This nonfenfe should be corrected thus,

I'd let a MARISH of fuch Clotens blood.

i. e. a marsh or lake. So Smith, in his account of Virginia, Yea Venice, at this time the admiration of the earth, was at firft but a marifh, inhabited by poor fishermen. In the first book of Maccabees, chap. ix. ver. 42. the Tranflators ufe the word in the fame fenfe,

• Not

Not wagging his fweet head; and, yet as rough, (Their royal blood enchaf'd,) as the rud'ft wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him ftoop to th' vale-'Tis wonderful, That an invisible inftinct fhould frame them To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, • Civility not seen from other; valour,

That wildly grows in them; but yields a crop
As if it had been fow'd. Yet ftill it's ftrange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us.

Re-enter Guiderius.

Guid. Where's my brother?

I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream,
In embaffie to his mother; his body's hoftage
For his return.

Bel. My ingenious inftrument!

[Solemn mufick.

Hark, Paladour! it founds: but what occafion
Hath Cadwall now to give it motion? hark!
Guid. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence even now.

Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my
dear'st Mother,

It did not speak before. All folemn things
Should answer folemn accidents. The matter!--

6 That an invifible inftin&t- -] But where is the wonder that an invisible inftinct should do this, any more than an invisible reason? It appears then that the poet ufes invifible for blind. And by blind inftinct he means a kind of plaftic nature, acting as an inftrument under the Creator, without intention, and then there is cause of wonder, that blind inflina fhould do as much as sharpfighted reafon. One not well acquainted with Shakespear's manner, in the licentioufnefs of his language and the profoundness of his fenfe, would be apt to think he wrote invincible, i. e. that bore down all before it. But the poet here transfers the term belonging to the object upon the subject: unless we will rather fuppofe it was his intention to give invifible (which has a passive) an active fignification; and then it will mean the fame as not feeing.

Triumphs

Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.
Is Cadwall mad?

SCENE V.

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in

bis arms.

Bel. Look, here he comes!

And brings the dire occafion, in his arms,
Of what we blame him for.

Arv. The bird is dead,

"That we have made fo much on! I had rather
'Have skipt from fixteen years of age to fixty;
' And turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
'Than have seen this.

Guid. Oh fweetest, faireft lilly!

My brother wears thee not one half fo well,

As when thou grew'ft thyself.

Bel. O melancholy !

'Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find 'The ooze, to fhew what coaft thy fluggish carrack 'Might eas❜lieft harbour in ?-thou bleffed thing!

Jove knows, what man thou might'ft have made; but ah!

'Thou dy'dft, a moft rare boy, of melancholy ! 'How found you him?

Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find

The ooze, to fhew what coaft thy fluggish care

?.

Might eas' lieft harbour in ?] But as plaufible as this at first fight may feem, all thofe, who know any thing of good writing, will agree, that our author must have wrote,

to fhew what coaft thy fluggish carrack

Might eas'lieft harbour in?

Carrack is a flow, heavy built veffel of burden. This reftores the uniformity of the metaphor, compleats the fense, and is a word of great propriety and beauty to defign a melancholic perfon.

Arv.

Arv. Stark, as you fee:

Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled flumber! • Not as Death's dart being laugh'd at: his right cheek • Repofing on a cushion.

Guid.

Where?

Arv. O'th' floor:

• His arms thus leagu'd; I thought, he slept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whofe rudeness • Answer'd my steps too loud.

Guid. Why, he but sleeps;

"If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
"With female Fairies will his tomb be haunted,
"And worms will not come near thee.

Arv. "With faireft flow'rs,

"'Whilst summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele, "I'll sweeten thy fad grave. Thou shalt not lack "The flow'r that's like thy face, pale Primrose; nor "The azur'd Hare-bell, like thy veins, no, nor "The leaf of Eglantine; which not to flander, "Out-sweeten'd not thy breath. The Raddock would,

"With charitable bill, (oh bill, fore-fhaming "Thofe rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lye "Without a Monument!) bring thee all this; "Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flow'rs are none, "To winter-gown thy coarse.

8

Guid. Pr'ythee, have done;

The Raddock would,

With charitable bill, bring thee all this;

Yea, and furr'd mofs befides. When flowers are none,

To winter-ground thy courfe 1 Here again, the metaphor is firangely mangled. What Senfe is there in winter-grounding a coarfe with mofs? A coarfe might indeed be faid to be wintergrounded in good thick clay. But the epithet furr'd to mofs directs us plainly to another reading,

To winter gown thy coarse.

i. e. the fummer habit fhall be a light gown of flowers, thy winter habit a good warm furr'd gown of moss.

And