Slutt'ry, to fuch neat excellence oppos'd,
(4) Should make defire vomit emptiness,
Not fo allur'd to feed.

Imo. What is the matter, trow?
Lach. The cloyed will,

That fatiate, yet unfatisfy'd defire,

That tub, both fill'd and running; ravening firft
The lamb, longs after for the garbage

Imo. What,

Dear Sir, thus raps you? are you well?

Iach. Thanks, Madam, well-'Beseech you, Sir,

[To Pifanio. Defire my man's abode, where I did leave him; (5) He's ftrange and peevish.

Pif. I was going, Sir,

To give him welcome.

Imo. Continues well my Lord

His health, 'befeech you?

Iach. Well, Madam.

Imo. Is he difpos'd to mirth? I hope, he is.

Iach. Exceeding pleafant; none a ftranger there So merry, and fo gamefome; he is call'd

The Britain Reveller.

Imo. When he was here,

He did incline to sadness, and oft times
Not knowing why.

(4) Should make defire vomit emptiness,
Not fo allur'd to feed.

i. e. that appetite, which is not allured to feed on fuch excellence, can have no ftomach at all; but, though empty, muft naufeate every thing. WARBURTON.

I explain this paffage in a fenfe almoft contrary. Iachimo, in this counterfeited rapture, has fhewn how the eyes and the judgment would determine in favour of Imogen, comparing her with the prefent mistress of Pofthumus, and proceeds to fay, that appetite too would give the fame fuffrage. Defire, fays he, when it approach'd fluttery, and confidered it in comparison with fuch neat excellence, would not only be not fo allur'd to feed, but, feized with a fit of loathing, would vomit emptiness, would feel the convulfions of difguft, though, being unfed, it had nothing to eject.

(5) He's firange and peevish.] He's a foreigner, and easily fretted. VOL. IX.

M

Iach.

Iach. I never faw him fad.

There is a Frenchman his companion, one,

An eminent Monfieur, that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home, he furnaces,

The thick fighs from him; while the jolly Briton,
Your Lord, I mean, laughs from 's free lungs, cries
Oh!

Can my fides hold, to think, that man, who knows
By hiftory, report, or his own proof,

What woman is, yea, what fhe cannot chufe
But must be,

Will's free hours languifh for affured bondage?
Imo. Will my Lord say fo?

Jach. Ay, Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.

It is a recreation to be by,

And hear him mock the Frenchman: but heav'n knows, Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope.

Iach. Not he. But yet heav'n's bounty tow'rds him

might

Be us'd more thankfully.

In himself, 'tis much;

In you, whom I account his, beyond all talents;
Whilft I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Imo. What do you pity, Sir?

lach. Two creatures heartily.

Imo. Am I one, Sir?

You look on me; what wreck difcern you

Deferves your pity?

Iach. Lamentable! what!

in me,

To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace

I' th' dungeon by a fnuff?

Imo. I pray you, Sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers

To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Jach. That others do,

I was about to fay, enjoy your

It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

Not mine to speak on't.

Imo. You do feem to know

-but

Some

Pray you,

Something of me, or what concerns me.
Since doubting, things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be fure they do; for certainties
Or are paft remedies, or (6) timely knowing,
The remedy's then born; difcover to me
(7) What both you fpur and ftop.

Iach. Had I this cheek

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whofe touch,
Whofe ev'ry touch would force the fe-ler's foul
To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
Slaver with lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol; (3) join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falfhood, as with labour;
Then glad myself by peeping in an eye,

Bafe and unluftrous as the fmoaky light
That's fed with ftinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell fhould at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of this change; but 'tis your graces,

(6)

timely knowing,] Rather timely known.

(7) What both you pur and ftop.] I think Imogen means to enquire what is that news, that intelligence, or information, you profefs to bring, and yet withhold at leaft, I think, your explanation a mistaken one, for Imogen's request fuppofes lachimo an agent, not a patient. Mr. HAWKINS.

What it is that at once incites you to fpeak, and restrains you from it.

(8) —join gripes with hand, &c.] The old edition reads, join gripes with bands

Made hard with hourly falfhood, (falfhood as With labour) then by peeping in an eye, &c. I read,

then lye peeping

The authour of the prefent regulation of the text I do not know, but have fuffered it to ftand, tho' not right. Hard with fallhood, is, hard by being often griped with frequent change of hands.

That from my muteft confcience to my tongue,

Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. O dearest foul! your caufe doth ftrike my

heart

With pity, and doth make me fick. A Lady

So fair, and faften'd to an empery,

Would make the great'ft King double! to be partner'd With tomboys, (9) hir'd with that felf-exhibition Which your own coffers yield

with difeas'd ventures

That play with all infirmities for gold,

Which rottennefs lends nature! fuch boyl'd ftuff,
As well might poifon Poifon! Be reveng'd;
Or fhe, that bore you, was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great flock.

Imo. Reveng' great flock.

How fhould I be reveng'd, if this be true?
As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Muft not in hafte abufe; if it be true,

How fhall I be reveng'd?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's Prieft, betwixt cold fheets?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your defpight, upon your purfe? Revenge it?
I dedicate myfelf to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than the runagate to your
And will continue faft to your affection,
Still clofe, as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!

bed;

Iach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips. Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For fuch an end thou feek'ft; as bafe, as ftrange: Thou wrong'ft a Gentleman, who is as far From thy report, as thou from honour; and Solicit'ft here a Lady, that difdains

Thee, and the Devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!

(9)-hir'd with that Jelf-exhibition] Grofs ftrumpets, hired with the very penfion which you allow your husband,

The