Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes; in mine igno- Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table: If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Give me the cups; Ham. Come on, sir. The drink, the drink;-I am poison'd! [Dies. Ham. O villainy !-How? Let the door be lock'd: Treachery! seek it out. [LAERTES falls. Laer. It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain: No medicine in the world can do thee good, In thee there is not half an hour of life! The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated, and envenom'd: the foul practice Hath turn'd itself on me; lo, here I lie, Never to rise again: Thy mother 's poison'd; I can no more; the king, the king's to blame. Ham. The point Envenom'd too!-Then, venom, to thy work. Osr.& Lords. Treason! treason! [Stabs the KING. It is a poison temper'd by himself. [They play. Nor thine on me! No. [Dies. Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio:-Wretched queen, adieu! You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time, (as this fell sergeant, death, King. Stay, give me drink: Hamlet, this pearl is Is strict in his arrest,) O, I could tell you,- But let it be :-Horatio, I am dead; Hor. Never believe it. Ham. And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, What warlike noise is this? To the ambassadors of England gives Ham. O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit; [They play. On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice; [LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then, in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES. Part them, they are incens'd. The QUEEN falls. Look to the queen there, ho! Hor. They bleed on both sides:-How is it, my lord? Osr. How is 't, Laertes? Union-a very rich pearl. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! Why does the drum come hither? [March within. 1 Amb. Hor. Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I Fort. Let us haste to hear it, For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune; I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Hor. Of that I shall have always cause to speak, Not from his mouth, E'en while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance, Had it the ability of life to thank you, Take up the body :-Such a sight as this [A dead March. [Exeunt, marching; after which a peci of ordnance is shot off. 6 In Cymbeline,' we are thrown back into the halffabulous history of our own country, and see all objects under the dim light of uncertain events and manners. We have civilisation contending with semi-barbarism; the gorgeous worship of the Pagan world subduing to itself the more simple worship of the Druidical times; kings and courtiers surrounded with the splendour of "barbaric pearl and gold ;" and, even in those days of simplicity, a wilder and a simpler life, amidst the fastnesses of mountains, and the solitude of caves-the hunters' life, who "have seen nothing," but who yet, in their natural piety, know "how to adore the heavens." If these attributes of the drama had been less absorbing, we perhaps might have more readily seen the real course of the dramatic action. We venture to express our opinion, that one predominant idea does exist. The dialogue of the "two Gentlemen" in the opening scene makes us perfectly acquainted with the relations in which Posthumus and Imogen stand to each other, and to those around them. "She's wedded, her husband banish'd." We have next the character of the banished husband, and of the unworthy suitor who is the cause of his banishment; as well as the story of the king's two lost sons. This is essentially the foundation of the past and future of the action. Brief indeed is this scene, but it well prepares us for the parting of Posthumus and Imogen. The course of their affections is turned awry by the wills of others. The angry king at once proclaims himself to us as one not cruel, but weak; he has before been described as "touch'd at very heart." It is only in the intensity of her affection for Posthumus that Imogen opposes her own will to the impatient violence of her father, and the more crafty | decision of her step-mother. But she is surrounded with a third evil, "A father cruel, and a step-dame false, A foolish suitor to a wedded lady." on every side by a determination of purpose, whether in the shape of violence, wickedness, or folly, against which, under ordinary circumstances, innocence may be supposed to be an insufficient shield. But the very help lessness of Imogen is her protection. In the exquisite Second Scene of the Second Act, the perfect purity of Imogen, as interpreted by Shakspere, has converted what would have been a most dangerous situation in the hands of another poet, into one of the most refined delicacy.-The immediate danger is passed; but there is a new danger approaching. The will of her unhappy husband, deceived into madness, is to be added to the evils which she has already received from violence and selfishness. Posthumus, intending to destroy her, writes "Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven; what your own love will out of this advise you, follow.” She does follow her own love;-she has no other guide but the strength of her affections; that strength makes her hardy and fearless of consequences. It is the one duty, as well as the one pleasure, of her existence. How is that affection requited? Pisanio places in her hand, when they have reached the deepest solitude of the mountains, that letter by which he is commanded to take away her life. One passing thought of herself— one faint reproach of her husband,—and she submits to the fate which is prepared for her.—But her truth and innocence have already subdued the will of the sworn servant of her husband. He comforts her, but he neces sarily leaves her in the wilderness. The spells of evil wills are still around her : " My noble mistress, Here is a box, I had it from the queen." Perhaps there is nothing in Shakspere more beautifully managed,-more touching in its romance,—more essen tially true to nature,-than the scenes between Imogen and her unknown brothers. The gentleness, the grace, the "grief and patience," of the helpless Fidele, producing at once the deepest reverence and affection in the bold and daring mountaineers, still carry forward the character of Imogen under the same aspects. “The bird is dead;" she was sick, and we almost fear that the words of the dirge are true. But she awakes. and she has still to endure the last and the worst evil—her husband, in her apprehension, lies dead be Worse, however, even than these, her honour is to be fore her. She has no wrongs to think of—“ O my lord, assailed, her character vilified, by a subtle stranger;| who, perhaps more in sport than in malice, has resolved to win a paltry wager by the sacrifice of her happiness and that of her husband. What has she to oppose to all this complication of violence and cunning? Her perfect purity-her entire simplicity-her freedom from everything that is selfish-the strength only of her affections. The scene between Iachimo and Imogen is a contest of innocence with guile, most profoundly affecting, in spite of the few coarsenesses that were perhaps unavoidable, and which were not considered offensive in Shakspere's day. This is the First Act; and, if we mistake not the object of Shakspere, these opening scenes exhibit one of the most confiding and gentle of human beings, assailed my lord," is all, in connexion with Posthumus, that escapes amidst her tears. The beauty and innocence which saved her from Iachimo,-which conquered Pisanio,-which won the wild hunters,—commend her te the Roman general-she is at once protected. But she has holy duties still to perform.-It is the unconquerable affection of Imogen which makes us pity Posthumus, even while we blame him for the rash exercise of his revengeful will. But in his deep repentance we more than pity him. We see only another victim of worldly craft and selfishness. In the prison scene his spirit is again united with hers.-The contest we now feel is over between the selfish and the unselfish, the crafty and the simple, the proud and the meek, the violent and the gentle. 5 CYMBELINE. PERSONS REPRESENTED. CYMBELINE, King of Britain. Act II. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1; sc. 5. sc. 5. Queen, by a former husband. LEONATUS POSTHUMUS, husband to Imogen. Appears, Act 1. sc. 2; sc. 5. Act II. sc. 4; sc. 5. Act V. sc. 1. sc. 2; sc. 3; sc. 4; sc. 5. BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. Appears, Act III. sc. 3; sc. 6. Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 2; sc. 5. GUIDERIUS, Son to Cymbeline, disguised under the name of Polydore, supposed son to Belarius. Appears, Act III. sc. 3; sc. 6. Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 2; sc. 5. ARVIRAGUS, son to Cymbeline, disguised under the name of Cadwal, supposed son to Belarius. Appears, Act III. sc. 3; sc. 6. Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 2; sc. 5. PHILARIO, a Roman, friend to Posthumus. A French Gentleman, friend to Philario. CAIUS LUCIUS, general of the Roman forces. Appears, Act III. sc. 1; sc. 5. Act IV. sc. 2. Act V. st. 2; sc. 5. A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. Appear, Act V. sc. 3. PISANIO, gentleman to Posthumus. Appears, Act I. sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 6; sc. 7. Act II. sc. 3. Act IIL sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 5. Act IV. sc. 3. Act V. sc. 5. CORNELIUS, a physician. Appears, Act I. sc. 6. Act V. sc. 5. Two Gentlemen of Cymbeline's Court. Two Gaolers. QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline. Appears, Act I. sc. 2; sc. 6. Act II. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1; sc. 5. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Appari- SCENE,- -SOMETIMES IN BRITAIN; SOMETIMES IN ROME. And therefore banish'd,) is a creature such 2 Gent. You speak him far. him, sir, within himself, 1 Gent. I do extend His measure duly. 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus: And had, besides this gentleman in question, Died with their swords in hand; for which, their father |