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SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's
Enter two Gentlemen.
frowns: our bloods
But what's the matter? First Gent. His daughter, and the heir of's
kingdom, whom He purposed to his wife's sole son—a widow That late he married-hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded; Her husband banish’d; she imprisca'd: all Is outward sorrow; though I think the king Be touch'd at very heart. Sec, Gent.
None but the king ? First Gent. He that hath lost her too; so is the
queen, That most desired the match; but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. Sec. Gent.
And why so? First Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess is
a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath herI mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd-is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think
You speak him far.
self, Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly.
Sec. Gent. What's his name and birth?
father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being, and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased As he was born. The king he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, And in's spring became a harvest, lived in courtWhich rare it is to do—most praised, most loved, A sample to the youngest, to the more mature A glass that featedt them, and to the graver A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, 50 For whom he now is banish’d, her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read +Made them fine. What kind of man he is. Sec. Gent.
I honour him Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king ? First Gent.
His only child. He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old, l' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nur
sery Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
60 Which way they went. Sec. Gent.
How long is this ago?
Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir.
Sec. Gent. I do well believe you.
[Exeunt. Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
70 After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-eyed unto you: you're 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 patience Your wisdom may inform you. Post.
Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen.
You know the peril. 80 I'ls fetch a turn about the garden, pitying, The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king Hath charged you should not speak together.
O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest hus
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing-
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 gall.
Re-enter QUEEN. Queen.
Be brief, I pray you:
Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu !
Imo. Nay, stay 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. 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 ! [Putting on the ring.]
Remain, remain thou here While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest,
fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you,
IIO I 20
To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
(Putting a bracelet upon her arm. Imo.
O the gods! When shall we see again?
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post.
Alack, the king!
The gods protect you !
O disloyal thing,
I beseech you, sir,
Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past
grace. Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of
my queen! Imo. O blest, that I might not ! I chose an
eagle, And did avoid a puttock.*
140 Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have
made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo.
No; I rather added
Сут. . O thou vile one!