No lesser of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate

Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,―
Methinks, I see him now,

Post.
Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villains past, in being,

To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthúmus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do 't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd, Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 'twas!-Q Imogen!

My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,

Imogen, Imogen!

Imo.

Peace, my lord; hear, hear

Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part.

[Striking her: she falls.

O, gentlemen, help, help

Pis.
Mine, and your mistress:-O, my lord Posthúmus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!-
Mine honour'd lady!

Cym.

Does the world go round?

Post. How come these staggers on me?

Pis.
Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me

To death with mortal joy.

Pis.

Imo. O, get thee from

How fares my mistress?

my sight;

The tune of Imogen!

Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.
Cym.

Pis. Lady,

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; I had it from the queen.
Cym. New matter still?

Imo.

Cor.

It poison'd me.

O Gods!I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat.

Cym.

What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,

All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?
Imó. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel.

There was our error.

Gui.

My boys,

This is sure, Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock; and now

Throw me again.

Post.

Till the tree die!

Cum.

[Embracing him.

Hang there like fruit, my soul,

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

How now, my flesh, my child?

Your blessing, sir. [Kneeling.

[To GUI. and ARV.

My tears, that fall,

Imo. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for 't.

Cym.

Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,

Thy mother's dead.

Imo.

I am sorry for 't, my lord.

Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely: But her son

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pis.

My lord,

Now fear is from me, I 'il speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death: By accident,

I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him

To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,

I further know not.

Gui.

I slew him there.

Let me end the story:

Cym.

Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant, youth,
Deny 't again.

Gui.

I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym.
I am sorry for thee;
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: Thou art dead.

This man is better than the man he slew,

As well descended as thyself; and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens

Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage.

Сут. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent

As good as we?

Arv.

In that he spake too far.

We will die all three

Cym. And thou shalt die for 't.
Bel.
But I will prove, that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv. Ours.

Your danger is

Have at it then

Gui. And our good is his..
Bel

1

By leave; Thou hadst, great king, a subject, whe

Was call'd Belarius.

Cym.

What of him? he is.

A banish'd traitor.

He it is, that hath

Bel.

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man;

I know not how, a traitor.

Cym.

Take him hence;

Not too hot:

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel.

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons:
And let it be confiscate all, so soon

As I have receiv'd it.

Cym.

Nursing my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,

These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym.

How! my issue?

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence,3 my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,

Was all the harm I'did. These gentle princes
For such, and so they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to 't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose

Two of the sweet'st companions in the world 3