Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so? Imo. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. Cym. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name ? Imo. Fidele, Sir. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy mafter. Walk with me, fpeak freely. i [Cym. and Imo. walk afide. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? Not more refembles. That fweet rofy lad, Bel. Peace, peace, fee more; he eyes ús not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I'm fure. Guid. But we faw him dead. Bel. Be filent: let's fee further. * སྙ་༎ · [Afide. Since he is living, let the time run on, ' Gite answer to this boy, and do it freely; Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. Poft. What's that to him? Gym. That diamond upon your finger, fay, i How came it yours? Jach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that, Which to be spoke would torture thee. Cym. How? me? fach. I'm glad to be constrain'd to utter what Torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel, Whom thou didst banish, and, which more may grieve thee, As it doth me, a nobler Sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground. Will you hear more, my Lord? Cym. All that belongs to this. For whom my heart drops blood, and my falle fpirits Cyn. My daughter, what of her? renew thy I'd rather thou fhouldft live, while nature will, Those which I heav'd to head; the good Pofthumus What fliould I fay? he was too good to be For beauty, that made barren the fwell'd boast- Loves woman for; befides that hook of wiving, Cym. I ftand on fire. Come to the matter. Iach. All too foon I fhall, Unless thou would!) grieve quickly.-This Pofthu Most like a noble lord in love, and one! That had a royal lover, took his hint; [mus, And, not difpraifing whom we prais'd, therein He was as calm as virtue, he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being And then a mind put in't, either our brags [made, "Feature, for proportion of parts. Warburton, ་ Were crack'd of kitchen-trullsy or his defeription Prov'd us unfpeaking fots. Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose. Lach. Your daughter's chaftity-there it begins In fuit the place of 's bed, and win this ring Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring; Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it Moft vilely, for my vantage excellent ; Poft. Ay, fo thou doft, [Coming forward: Italian fiend!-ah me, moft credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains paft, in being, That all the abhorr'd things othearth amend By being worse than they. I am Pofthumus, A facrilegious thief, to do 't. The temple Be villainy lefs than 'twas!-Oh Imogen! Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear Poft. Shall 's have a play of this? Thou fcornful page, there ly thy part. Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help [Striking her, he falls. Mine, and your miftrefs-Oh, my Lord Pofthumus! Cym. Does the world go round? Poft. How come thefe ftaggers on me? Pif. Wake, my mistress! Cym. If this be fo, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. Pif. How fares my miftrefs? Imo. O get thee from my fight; Thou gav'it me poifon dang'rous fellow, hence!! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. The tune of Imogen! Pif. Lady, the gods throw itones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the Queen. Cym. New matter ftill? Imo. It poifoned me. Cor., Oh Gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd, Cym. What's this, Cornelius?: Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me. To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? Bel. My boys, there was our error.―― Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a rock *, and now Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die! Cym. How now, my flesh? my child? What, mak'ft thou me a dullard in this act? Imo. Your bleffing, Sir. Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not You had a motive for't. Cym. My tears that fall, [Kneeling. [To Guid. Arvir, Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord. Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pif My Lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my Lady's mifling, came to me With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, -and fwore, If I discover'd not which way fhe went, * Confider, that you have juft efcaped being wrecked in the full perfuafion of my infidelity and death, and are at last got safe on a rock; now throw me from you again, if your heart will give you leave. Revifal, |