he resembles each of
these characters individually, she stands wholly distinct from all.

It is true, that the conjugal tenderness of Imogen is at once the chief
subject of the drama, and the pervading charm of her character; but it
is not true, I think, that she is merely interesting from her tenderness
and constancy to her husband. We are so completely let into the essence
of Imogen's nature, that we feel as if we had known and loved her before
she was married to Posthumus, and that her conjugal virtues are a charm
superadded, like the color laid upon a beautiful groundwork. Neither
does it appear to me, that Posthumus is unworthy of Imogen, or only
interesting on Imogen's account. His character, like those of all the
other persons of the drama, is kept subordinate to hers: but this could
not be otherwise, for she is the proper subject--the heroine of the
poem. Every thing is done to ennoble Posthumus, and justify her love for
him; and though we certainly approve him more for her sake than for his
own, we are early prepared to view him with Imogen's eyes; and not only
excuse, but sympathize in her admiration of one

Who sat 'mongst men like a descended god.

* * * *

Who lived in court, which it is rare to do,
Most praised, most loved:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that feated them.

And with what beauty and delicacy is her conjugal and matronly
character discriminated! Her love for her husband is as deep as Juliet's
for her lover, but without any of that headlong vehemence, that
fluttering amid hope, fear, and transport--that giddy intoxication of
heart and sense, which belongs to the novelty of passion, which we feel
once, and but once, in our lives. We see her love for Posthumus acting
upon her mind with the force of an habitual feeling, heightened by
enthusiastic passion, and hallowed by the sense of duty. She asserts and
justifies her affection with energy indeed, but with a calm and
wife-like dignity:--

CYMBELINE.

Thou took'st a beggar, would'st have made my throne
A seat for baseness.

IMOGEN.

No, I rather added a lustre to it

CYMBELINE.

O thou vile one!

IMOGEN.

Sir,
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus;
You bred him as my playfellow, and he