"Cymbeline" is one of those plays of Shakspeare - the others being the "Winter's Tale" and "The Merchant of Venice" where the path of the story leads us along the very verge of tragedy. Throughout "Cymbeline" there is nothing that can properly be called comic; everything moves us to pity, or rouses us to apprehension.

It has never been a popular acting-play, and that from several causes. The main incident of the story is not pleasing; and subtle as the distinctions of character are among the minor personages, there are no star-parts in it for male actors. The part of Imogen needs a lady of exceptional refinement. It was one of Miss Helen Faucit's favorite characters; but when will the public look upon her like again?

The story is founded on a tale of Boccaccio's in the "Decamerone." There Imogen is Zinevra, wife of a rich gentleman of Genoa. The circumstances of the bet, and of the treachery of Iachimo are the same; but then the story wanders into all sorts of improbabilities, and in the end Zinevra and her husband are made wealthy and happy by a decree of the Soldan of Egypt, who bestows on them the riches of Ambroglio (the Iachimo), while the unfortunate man is smeared with honey, and left in the sun to be stung to death by flies, apparently to the satisfaction of the prototype of Imogen.

Shakspeare has not taken contemporary Italian life as a setting for his story; he has put it back into the poet's fairy-land, while it pretends to be founded on semi-historical facts. The scene is in the Land of the Round Table and the Grail, but the date is that of the last days of Roman rule in Britain; the religion is semi-pagan, and the manners have not yet caught the tone of Christian chivalry.

In the folio edition of Shakspeare, printed in 1623, "Cymbeline" is placed among the tragedies, and for that reason is still so numbered by many modern editors. It is less a tragedy, however, than "The Winter's Tale," which contains two deaths, that of Antigonus and little Mamillius, heir-apparent to the Sicilian throne. Cymbeline, King of Britain, is mentioned by name by Holinshed, as well as his two sons, Guiderius and Arviragus. The old historian also relates the circumstance of his refusing to pay tribute to Rome.

The scene is partly at the court of Britain, partly among the mountains of South Wales. In its contrasts between the intrigues of a court and the sweet life of woods and streams, it resembles "As you Like It;" but the forest-life in "Cymbeline is very different from life in the forest of Arden. The deer that Jaques moralized upon are simply "game" to old Belarius and his boys. But Shakspeare knew that life, removed from centres of thought and interest, must and should pall on the ardent and the young. The princely lads are weary of it, sweet as it seems to Imogen, even as in Arden Touchstone assures us "that in respect to country-life being solitary," he likes it "very well, but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. In respect that it is in the fields," he adds, "it pleaseth me well, but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious." The sons of Cymbeline had never been at court, but their hearts beat to the same measure as that of the battered court-fool.

ACT I. Scene 1.

When the play opens Cymbeline is King of Britain. The history of his court is related by two gentlemen. We are

not told where the court was; possibly at Winchester, perhaps at Carlyon upon Usk.1

The King, who is a weak, opinionated, wife-ridden old man, had been twice married. By his first wife he had had three children, two boys and Princess Imogen. The boys had been spirited away in infancy, and had disappeared entirely and mysteriously. Some years after his first wife's death, King Cymbeline married a sly and cruel widow, who had one son, Cloten, the child of a former husband. This son it was the object of her life to mate with Princess Imogen, and so raise him to her husband's throne. She probably counted on the imbecility of Cloten to enable her to continue that rule in Britain which she was suffered to usurp by her weak husband. But such a woman as sweet Imogen could not possibly have united herself to such a man as Cloten; nor, as heiress of England, could a woman of her intellect and conscientiousness have been willing to put her people into his power. Besides, she had been brought up during her mother's life-time with a young nobleman of the court, Leonatus Posthumus, who under peculiar circumstances had been adopted by her parents. Posthumus was the son of a nobleman, of distinguished rank and prowess, who, with two older sons, died, sword in hand, in the King's cause. This youngest son was born after his father's death, and cost the life of his mother. He had been surnamed Posthumus, and raised at the court of Britain, where Shakspeare is careful one of his

1 At Carlyon, a few months after the publication of the first volume of the "Idylls of the King," an American traveller inquiring for a copy of the poem in the little bookstore of the town, found that the bookseller had ordered no copies from London, having no idea that the work contained anything of local interest which might make it salable.

first speakers should tell us that, though poor, he was a worthy gentleman; that he was

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. I do not think

So fair an outward, and such stuff within,

Endows a man but he.

The second speaker objects that this praise is too extravagant. "No," answers the other, "I do crush him together, rather than unfold his measure duly." The King, he goes on to say, having taken the babe to his protection,

Put him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 't was ministered; and
In his spring became a harvest. Lived in court
(Which rare it is to do) most praised, most loved,
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banished, her own price

Proclaims how she esteemed him and his virtue ;
By her election may be truly read

What kind of man he is.

Thus we gather that from infancy Posthumus had been assigned to Princess Imogen, that their love grew up under the sanction of her father, and doubtless of her mother, now dead, that Posthumus was wise, cultivated, praised, beloved, and to all men a rare example. It is necessary that we should know him thus, for the part he is about to play does not impress us in his favor.

Imogen, when the play opens, has with calm dignity, as befits a princess, put a barrier between herself and Cloten, by marrying the man who has long been acknowledged her

accepted lover. The courtiers all in their hearts approve the step that the heiress of the realm has taken; but the King, stirred up by his wicked wife (" that late he married"), is furious with Imogen. He banishes Posthumus, and places Imogen in the custody of her step-mother, although, as the courtier who tells the story thinks, "himself much pained at heart."

Scene 2.

The second scene is between the Queen, Imogen the newly-wedded bride, and her banished husband.

The Queen's first words seem kindly, but Imogen knows her too well to trust her kindness, though not an imprudent or impatient word escapes her. The Queen proposes to make Imogen's imprisonment as light as possible, and to be Posthumus's advocate with the King, but meantime thinks he had better absent himself. She then, finding that Posthumus has resolved to quit the court, with false consideration offers to walk apart that the lovers may take their farewell. Then Imogen, who has not spoken yet, exclaims, —

0,

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,

I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing

(Always reserved my holy duty) what

His rage can do on me. You must be gone;

And I shall here abide the hourly shot

Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,

But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Posthumus.

My queen! my mistress !
O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause

To be suspected of more tenderness

Than doth become a man! I will remain

The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.