By her election may be truly read,

What kind of man he is.

2 Gent.

Even out of your report.

I honour him

But, 'pray you, tell me,

Is she sole child to the king?

His only child.

1 Gent. He had two sons, (if this be worth your bearing, Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, I'the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen; and to this hour, no guess in knowledge Which way they went.

2 Gent.

How long is this ago?

1 Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd! So slackly guarded! and the search so slow,

That could not trace them!

1 Gent.

Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
Yet is it true, sir.

2 Gert.

I do well believe you.

1 Gént. We must forbear: Here comes the queen,

and princess.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. Enter the Queen, Posthu mus and Imogen.

Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,

After the slander of most step-mothers,

Evil ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint.-For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,

You lean'd unto his sentence, with what pat, nee
Your wisdom may inform you.

Post.

Please your highness.

You know the peril :

I will from hence to-day.

Queen.

I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying

The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit. Imo.

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

0,

Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing,
(Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what

His rage can do on me: You must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot

Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Post.
My queen! my. mistress!
O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man! I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome at one Philario's ;
Who to my father was a friend, to me

Known but by letter; thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gail.

Re-enter Queen.

Queen.

Be brief, I pray you:

If the king come, I shall incur I know not

How much of his displeasure:-Yet I'll move him

[Aside.

To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injúries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.

Post.

Should we be taking leave

As long term as yet we have to live,

The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!
Imo. Nay, stay a little:

[Exit.

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.

Post.
How! how! another?-
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death! Remain thou here

[Putting on the ring. While sense can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you,

To your so infinite loss; so, in our trifles
I still win of you: For my sake, wear this;
It is a manacle of love; I'll place it

Upon this fairest prisoner.

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my

sight!

If, after this command, thou fraught the court

With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away!

Thou art poison to my blood.

Post.

The gods protect you!

[Exit.

And bless the good remainders of the court!

I am gone.

Imo.

There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this is.

Cym.

O disloyal thing,

That shouldst repair my youth; thou heapest

A year's age on me!

Imo.

I beseech you, sir,

Harm not yourself with your vexation; I

Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare

Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym.

Past grace? obedience?

Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past

grace.

Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my queen!

Imo. O bless'l, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttoc.

Cym, Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

Cym.

What!-art thou mad?

Imo. Almost, sir: heaven restore me!-Would I were A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus

Our neighbour shepherd's son!

Сут.

Re-enter Queen.

Thou foolish thing;

[To the Queen.

They were again together: you have done

Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up,

Queen.

'Beseech your patience :-Peace,

Dear lady daughter, peace.-Sweet sovereign,

Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.

Cym.

Nay, let her languish

[Exit."

A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!

Enter Pisanio.

Queen.

Fie!-you must give way:

Here is your servant.-How now, sir? what news?
Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.

Queen.

No harn, I trust, is done?

Ha!

Pis.
But that my master rather play'd than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.

There might have been

Queen.

I am very glad on't.

Ime. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his

part.

To draw upon an exile!-O brave sir!

I would they were in Afrie both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick

The goer back.-Why came you from your master?
Pis. On his command: He would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven: left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When it pleas'd you to employ me.

This hath been

Queen.
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour,
He will remain so.

Pis.

I humbly thank your highness.

About some half hour hence,

Queen. Pray, walk awhile.

Imo.

I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least,
Go see my lord aboard: for this time, leave me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-A public Place. Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.