One score, 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

IMOGEN.

Why, one that rode to his execution, man, Could never go so slow!

There are two or three other pa.s.sages bearing on the conjugal tenderness of Imogen, which must be noticed for the extreme intensity of the feeling, and the unadorned elegance of the expression.

I would thou grew'st unto the sh.o.r.es o' the haven And question'dst every sail: if he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?

PISANIO.

'Twas, His queen! his queen!

IMOGEN.

Then wav'd his hankerchief?

PISANIO.

And kiss'd it, madam.

IMOGEN.

Senseless linen! happier therein than I!-- And that was all?

PISANIO.

No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship.

IMOGEN.

Thou should'st have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.

PISANIO.

Madam, so I did.

IMOGEN.

I would have broke my eye-strings; cracked them, but To look upon him; till the diminution Of s.p.a.ce had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air; and then Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.

Two little incidents, which are introduced with the most un.o.btrusive simplicity, convey the strongest impression of her tenderness for her husband, and with that perfect unconsciousness on her part, which adds to the effect. Thus when she has lost her bracelet--

Go, bid my woman Search for a jewel, that too casually, Hath left my arm. It was thy master's: 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king in Europe. I do think I saw't this morning; confident I am, Last night 'twas on mine arm--_I kiss'd it.

I hope it has not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he._

It has been well observed, that our consciousness that the bracelet is really gone to bear false witness against her, adds an inexpressibly touching effect to the simplicity and tenderness of the sentiment.

And again, when she opens her bosom to meet the death to which her husband has doomed her, she finds his letters preserved next her heart

What's here!

The letters of the loyal Leonatus?-- Soft, we'll no defence.

The scene in which Posthumus stakes his ring on the virtue of his wife, and gives Iachimo permission to tempt her, is taken from the story. The baseness and folly of such conduct have been justly censured; but Shakspeare, feeling that Posthumus needed every excuse, has managed the quarrelling scene between him and Iachimo with the most admirable skill. The manner in which his high spirit is gradually worked up by the taunts of this Italian fiend, is contrived with far more probability, and much less coa.r.s.eness, than in the original tale. In the end he is not the challenger, but the challenged; and could hardly (except on a moral principle, much too refined for those rude times) have declined the wager without compromising his own courage and his faith in the honor of Imogen.

IACHIMO.

I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.

POSTHUMUS.

You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of, by your attempt.

IACHIMO.

What's that?

POSTHUMUS.

A repulse: though your _attempt_, as you call it, deserve more--a punishment too.

PHILARIO.

Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.

IACHIMO.

Would I had put my estate and my neighbor's on the approbation of what I have said!

POSTHUMUS.

What lady would you choose to a.s.sail?

IACHIMO.

Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe

In the interview between Imogen and Iachimo, he does not begin his attack on her virtue by a direct accusation against Posthumus; but by dark hints and half-uttered insinuations, such as Iago uses to madden Oth.e.l.lo, he intimates that her husband, in his absence from her, has betrayed her love and truth, and forgotten her in the arms of another.

All that Imogen says in this scene is comprised in a few lines--a brief question, or a more brief remark. The proud and delicate reserve with which she veils the anguish she suffers, is inimitably beautiful. The strongest expression of reproach he can draw from her, is only, "My lord, I fear, has forgot Britain." When he continues in the same strain, she exclaims in an agony, "Let me hear no more." When he urges her to revenge, she asks, with all the simplicity of virtue, "How should I be revenged?" And when he explains to her how she is to be avenged, her sudden burst of indignation, and her immediate perception of his treachery, and the motive for it, are powerfully fine: it is not only the anger of a woman whose delicacy has been shocked, but the spirit of a princess insulted in her court.

Away! I do condemn mine ears, that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honorable, Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue not For such an end thou seek'st, as base as strange Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honor; and Solicit'st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike.

It has been remarked, that "her readiness to pardon Iachimo's false imputation, and his designs against herself, is a good lesson to prudes, and may show that where there is a real attachment to virtue, there is no need of an outrageous antipathy to vice."[59]

This is true; but can we fail to perceive that the instant and ready forgiveness of Imogen is accounted for, and rendered more graceful and characteristic by the very means which Iachimo employs to win it? He pours forth the most enthusiastic praises of her husband, professes that he merely made this trial of her out of his exceeding love for Posthumus, and she is pacified at once; but, with exceeding delicacy of feeling, she is represented as maintaining her dignified reserve and her brevity of speech to the end of the scene.[60]

We must also observe how beautifully the character of Imogen is distinguished from those of Desdemona and Hermione. When she is made acquainted with her husband's cruel suspicions, we see in her deportment neither the meek submission of the former, nor the calm resolute dignity of the latter. The first effect produced on her by her husband's letter is conveyed to the fancy by the exclamation of Pisanio, who is gazing on her as she reads.--