C Ymbeline, King of Britain. Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. Leonatus Posthumus, A Gentleman in Love with the Princess, and privately Married to her. Guiderius, Disguis'd under the Names of Polidore and Arviragus, Cadwal, Supposed Sons to Bellarius. Bellarius, A Banishd Lord, disguis'd under the Name of Morgan. Philario, An Italian, Friend to Posthumus. Iachimo, Friend to Philario. Caius Lucius, Ambaffudor from Rome. A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario. Queen, Wife to Cymbeline. Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Ghosts, a Soothsayer, Captains, Soldiers, Meffengers, and other Attendants. SCENE, for fome Part of the first, second, and third Afts, lyes in Rome, for the reft - of the Play in Britain. CYM CYMBELINE. ACTI SCENEI Y OU do not meet a Man but frowns: Our No more obey the Heav'ns than our Courtiers; 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 1 Gent. His Daughter, and the Heir of's Kingdom (whom He purpos'd to his Wife's fole Son, a Widow Be touch'd at very Heart. 2 Gent. None but the King? 1 Gent. He that hath lost her too: so is the Queer That most defir'd 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 scoul at. Gont 2 Gent. And why fo? 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the Princess, is a thing 2 Gent. You speak him fair. I Gent. I do extend him, Sir, within himself, Crush him together, rather than unfold 2 Gent. What's his Name and Birth ? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the Root: his Father Was call'd Sicillins, who did join his Honour And in's Spring, became a Harvest: Liv'd in Court a 2 Gent 2 Gent. I honour him, even out of your report. But pray you tell me, is the fole Child to th'King ? 1 Gent. His only Child. He had two Sons (if this be worth your hearing, 2 Gent. How long is this ago? I Gent. Some twenty Years. 3 Gent. That a King's Children should be so convey'd ! So flackly Guarded, and the Search fo flow 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 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear. Here comes the Gentleman, The Queen, and Princess. [Excunt. Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and Attendants. Oneen. No, be afsur'd you shall not find me, Daughter, After the Slander of most Step-Mothers, Evil-ey'd unto you: You're my Prisoner, but You lean'd unto his Sentence, with what Patience Your Wisdom may inform you. Queen. You know the peril: Poft. Please your Highness, I will from hence to Day. 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. O dissembling Courtefie! How fine this Tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest Husband, I fomething fear my Father's Wrath, but nothing, Always referv'd my holy Duty, what His Rage can do on me. You must be gone, Poft. My Queen! my Mistress! Though Ink be made of Gall. 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 [Afile. To walk this way; I never do him wrong. But he does buy my Injuries, to be Friends, Pays dear for my Offences. Poft. Should we be taking leave, As long a term as yet we have to live, Imo. Nay, stay a little : Poft. How, how? Another! [Exit. [Putting on the Ring. While Sense can keep it on: And sweeteft, faireft, It is a Manacle of Love, I'll place it [Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. |