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Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?

Inio. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.

Cyn. Ay, with all my heart, And lend niy best attention. What's thy name?

Imo. Fidele, Sir. Cyn. Thou art my good youth, my page ; I'll be thy master. Walk with me, speak freely. i

[Cym. and Imo. walk aside. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?

Aro. One sand another
Not more resembles. That sweet rosy lad,
Who dy'd and was Fidele.. What think

Guid. The same dead thing alive. .
Bel. Peace, peace, see more; he eyes us 'not;

Creatures may be alike: were 't be, I'm sure
He would have spoke t’us.

Guid. But we saw hiin dead.
Bel. Be slent: let's see further.
Pif. 'Tis my mistress.

· [ Aside. Since she is living, let the time run on, To good or bad. [Cym. and Imo. come forward.

Cyni. Come, stand thou by our fide,
Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, step you forth.

[To Iachimo. Gire answer to this boy, and do it freely;

11., 1 Or by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. One fpeak

to him. Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.

Pist. What's that to him?

Gym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?

Jach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unipoken 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 ihis ring; 'twas Leonatus jewel,

Whom thou didst banish, and, which inore may

grieve thee,
As it doth me, a nobler Şir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt ky and ground. Will you hear more, my

Lord ?
Cym. All that belongs to this.

fach. That paragon, thy daughter,
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember--give me leave, I faint.--
Cyni. My daughter, what of her? renew

I'd rather thou shouldst live, while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more, Strive, man, and speaki

"Iach. Upon a time, unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour; it was in Rome, accursd
The mansion where ; 'twas at a feast, oh, 'would
Our viands had been poison'd, or at least
Those which I heard to head; the good Post-

What fiould I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'it of good ones-fitting fudly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty, that made barren the swellid boast-
Of him that best could speak; for feature *, laming
The farine of Venus, or straight-pight Minervaz
Postures beyond brief nature, for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving,
Fairnefs, which strikes the eye

Cym. I stand on fire.
Come to the matter.

lach. All too.foon I shall,
Unless thou wouldlt grieve quickly.--This Posthu:
Molt like a noble lord in love, and one : [mus,
That had a royal lover, took his hint;
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'i, either our brags (made,
* Featurc, for proportion of parts. Warburton,

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Were crack'd of kitchen-trulls; or his defeription
Prov'd us unspeaking lots.

Cym. Nay, nay, io th' purpose.

Lach. Your daughter's chaftity--there it begins-
Ee spake of her, as Dian bad hot dreams,
And the alone were cold; whereat ); wretch!
Made fcruple of bis prarle : and wag'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of 's bed, and win this ring
By liers and mine adultery. He, irue knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phæbus' wheel; and might lo safely, had it
Been all the worth of 's car. Away to Britain
Post I in this defign. Well may you, Sir;
Remember-me at court, where I was taught,
By your chaste daughter, the wide difference
STwixt amorous, and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not Jonging, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely, for my vantage excellent ;
And, to be brief, iny practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with similar proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown,
With tokens thus, and thus ; averring notes
Of cliamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
Oh, cunning! how I got it; nay, fome 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

Poft. Ay, so tkou dost, [Coming forwardi
Italian fiend !-ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains pasti in being,
To come-Oh, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer ! Thou, King, send out
For torturers ingenious ; it is I.
That all th? abhorr'd-things oth earth anende,

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By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That killd thy daughter ;--villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lefler villain than mylelf,
A facrilegious thief, to do 't. The teinple
Of virtue was the, yea, and the herself.
Spit, and throw ftonts, cait nire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bay me ; every villain :
Be callid Posthumus Leonatws, and
Be villainy less than 'twas !--Oh Imogen!
My queer, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen! Imogen !

Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear

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

[Striking her, the falls.
Pis. Oh, gentlemen, help
Mine, and your miltreis-Oh, my Lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till nowman -Help, help,
Mine honour'd Lady

Cym. Does the world go round ?
Post. How come thele ftaggers on me?
· Pif. Wake, my mistress !

Cym. If this bé so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

Pil. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O get thee from my sight;
Thou gav’lt me poison : dang 'rous fellow, hence !
Breathe not where princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Bif. Lady, the gods throw itones of sulphuron me,
If what I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing : I had it from the Queen,

Cym. New matier still ? :
Ino. It poisoned me.

Cor. Oh Gods !
I left out one thing which the Queen confess’d, -
Which must approve thee honest. If Piianio
Have, said she, giv'n bis mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, the is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?
Cor, The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me,

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To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The fatisfaction 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 fuff, which being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life ; but, in short time,-
All offices of nature mould again
Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel. My boys, there was our error.
Guid. This is, sure, Fidele.
Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from

Think that you are upon a rock *, and now
Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh? my child?
What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo. Your blefling, Sir.

[Knecling Bel. Tho'you did love this youth, I blame you not; You had a motive for't. [To Guid. Arvir.

Cym. My tears that fall,
Prove holy-water on thee ! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

Ino.. I'm sorry for't, my Lord.
Cym. Oh, she was naught; and 'long of her it was,
That we meet here so ftrangely; but her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pis My Lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my Lady's milling, came to me With his sword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and

swors, If I discover'd not which way she went,

* Consider, that you have just escaped being wrecked in the full persuasion of my infidelity and death, and are at last got fafe on a rock; now throw me from you again, if your heart will give you leave. Revisal.

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