He purpos'd to his wife's fole fon, a widow Her husband banith'd; fhe imprison'd: all 2 Gent. None but the King? 7 1 Gent. He that hath loft her too: fo is the Queen That most defir'd the match. But not a courtier (Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks) but hath a heart that is 2 Gent. And why fo? 1 Gent. He that hath mifs'd the Princefs, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, (I mean that marry'd her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd), is a creature fuch, As, to feek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be fomething failing In him that should compare. I do not think, So fair an outward, and fuch stuff within Endows a man but him. 2 Gent. You speak him far *. 1 Gent, I don't extend him, Sir; within himself Crufh him together, rather than unfold His measure tully. 2 Gen. What's his name and birth? I Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: his father Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour And had, befides, this gentleman in question, Dy'd with their words in hand : for which their father To his protection, calls him Pofthumus, Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber: Could make him the receiver of: which he took His fpring became a harvest: liv'd in court What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. I honour him, ev'n out of your report, But tell me, is fhe fole child to the King? 1 Gent. His only child. He had two fons, if this be worth your hearing 2 Gent. How long is this ago ? 1 Gent Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a King's children fhould be fo convey'd So flackly guarded, and the fearch fo flow That could not trace them! 1 Gent. How foe'er 'tis ftrange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, Sir. 2 Gent, I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear. man, The Queen, and Princess. SCENE Here comes the Gentle [Exeunt. II. Enter the Queen, Pofhumus, Imogen, and Attendants. Queen. No, be affur'd, you fhall not find me, daughter' After the flander of most stepmothers, Ill ey'd unto you: you're my pris'ner, but That lock up your reftraint. For you, Pofthumus, I will be known your advocate: marty, yet Poft. Please your Highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen. You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying [Exit. Imo. Diflembling courtefy! how fine this tyrant Can tickle where the wounds! My deareft husband, I fomething fear my father's wrath, but nothing (Always referv'd my holy duty) what His rage can do on me. You must be gone, Poft. My Queen! my mistress! O Lady, weep no more, left I give caufe] Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyall'ft husband that did e'er plight troth; Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you; If the King come, I fhall incur I know not How much of his difpleafure-Yet I'll move him [Afide. To walk this way; I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries; to be friends, Pays dear for my offences. Poft. Should we be taking leave, As long a term as yet we have to live, The lothness to depart would grow. Adieu ! Р [Exit, Imo. Nay, ftay a little. Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love, This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart, But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. Poft. How, how, another! You gentle gods, give me but this I have, With bonds of death. Remain, remain thou here. [Putting on the ring. While fenfe can keep thee on! and sweetest, fairest, As I my poor felf did exchange for you, To your fo infinite loss; so in our trifles I ftill win of you. For my fake wear this; It is a manacle of love, I'll place it [Putting a bracelet on her arız. Upon this faireft pris'ner. Imo. O, the gods! When shall we see again? SCENE III. Enter Cymbeline and Lords. Poft. Alack, the King! Cymb. Thou bafeft thing, avoid; hence, from my fight: If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou dy't. Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood. Poft. The gods protect you, And blefs the good remainders of the court! I'm gone. Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. Cym. O difloyal thing, That should'st repair my youth, thou heap'ft A yare age on me. Imo. I beseech you, Sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I'm fenfelefs of your wrath; a touch more rare Gym. Poft grace? obedience? [Exit. Imo. Paft hope, and in defpair; that way paft grace. ⚫i, e, more strong, forcible; alluding to the stroke of lightning. Cym. Thou might'ft have had the fole fon of my. Queen. Imo O, blefs'd, that I might not ! I chofe an eagle. And did avoid a puttock. Gym. Thou took ft a beggar; would't have made A feat for baseness. Imo. No, I rather added A luftre to it. Gym. O thou vile one! Imo. Sir, It is [my throne your fault that I have lov'd Pofthumus : You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is A man worthy any woman; over-buys me Almoft the fum he pays. Cym. What!-art thou mad? Imo. Almoft, Sir; Heav'n restore me! 'would I were A neat herd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour-fhepherd's fon! Enter Queen. Gym. Thou foolish thing! They were again together; you have done [To the Queen, Not after our command. Away with her, Queen. Befeech you patience; peace, Dear Lady daughter, peace. Sweat Sovereign, Leave us t' ourselves, and make yourfelf fome comfort Out of your best advice. Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly. Enter Pifanio, Queen. Fie, you must give way. [Exit. Here is your fervant. How now, Sir? what news? Pif. My Lord your fon drew on my master.- No harm, 1 truft, is done? Pif. There might have been, But that my mafter rather play'd than fought,. |