tator. Or, if he be moved by any concern about them, it is with hatred, at the inhuman boasting of Guiderius, that he has-" cut off one Cloten's head, son to the queen, and sent it down the river, to tell his mother," &c. Whoever Cloten was, or whatever ill he might threaten,-yet, for the author to make this youthful forester lay his foolish enemy dead at his feet, and then be facetious over the horrid act, was sinking him beneath the common bravo, who is ever portrayed grim and gloomy, as the good sign that he is still a man, and has a conscience capable of re

morse.

Johnson concludes his commentaries on the tragedy of "Cymbeline" (in which he bestows little praise, except on the soliloquy of Posthumus, when he supposes Imogen has been put to death) with this general criticism.

"This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes; but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names, and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events, in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation."

How would a modern author writhe under a critique that should accuse his drama, of only one half of these failings!-Yet "Cymbeline" survives this just attack-and will live admired, and esteemed, to the end of time.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

CYMBELINE.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

Britain.

The Garden of CYMBELINE's Palace.

Enter PISANIO and SECOND LORD.

Pisanio. You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods

No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers;
Still seem, as does the king's.

2 Lord. But what's the matter?

Pisanio. Are you so fresh a stranger, to ask that? His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son (a widow, That late he married), hath referr'd herself Unto a poor, but worthy gentleman: She's wedded; Her husband banish'd-she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart.

2 Lord. None but the king? Pisanio. Not a courtier,

Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.

2 Lord. And why so?

Pisanio. He, that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he, that hath her (I mean, that marry'd her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd), is a creature, such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him, that should compare.

2 Lord. His name and birth ?

Pisanio. His father

Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour
Against the Romans, with Cassi belan;

So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:

He had, besides this gentleman in question,

Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time,

Died with their swords in hand; for which, their father,

Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts to him all the learnings, that his time
Could make him the receiver of! which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
Which rare it is to do, most prais'd, most lov'd;
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards.

2 Lord. I honour him

Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell
Is she sole child to the king?

Pisanio. His only child.

me,

He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it); the eldest of them, at three years old,
I' the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stolen; and, to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

2 Lord. How long is this ago?

Pisanio. Some twenty years.

2 Lord. That a king's children should be so con

vey'd!

So slackly guarded! And the search so slow,
That could not trace them!

Pisanio. Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
Yet is it true, sir.

We must forbear: Here comes the gentleman,
The queen, and princess.

[Exit SECOND Lord.

Enter the QUEEN, IMOGEN, and POSTHUMUS.

Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,

After the slander of most step-mothers,

Posthumus,

Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys,
That lock up your restraint. For you,
So soon as I can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him and 'twere good
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Post, 'Please your highness,

I will from hence to-day.

Queen. 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.
Imog. O,

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband,