2 Gent. And why fo?

I Gent. He that hath mifs'd the Princefs, is a thing
Too bad, for bad report: And he that hath her,
(I mean, that marry'd her, alack good Man,
And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, fuch,
As to feek through the Regions of the Earth
For one, his like; there would be fomething failing
In him, that should compare. I do not think,
So fair an outward, and fuch stuff within
Endows a Man, but him.

2 Gent. You speak him fair.

1 Gent. I do extend him, Sir, within himself, Crush him together, rather than unfold His Meafure fully.

2 Gent. What's his Name and Birth?

1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the Root; his Father Was call'd Sicillius, who did join his Honour Against the Romans, with Caffibelan,

But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom
He ferv'd with Glory and admir'd Succefs:
So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.

And had, befides this Gentleman in question,

Two other Sons, who in the Wars o'th' time

7

Dy'd with their Swords in Hand. For which their Father
Then old, and fond of Iffue, took fuch Sorrow
That he quit Being; and his gentle Lady
Big of this Gentleman, our Theam, deceas'd,
As he was born. The King, he takes the Babe
To his Protection, calls him Pofthumus 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, faft as 'twas miniftred,

And in's Spring, became a Harvest: Liv'd in Court,
Which rare it is to do, moft prais'd, moft lov'd,
A Sample to the youngeft; to th more Mature,
A Glafs that featur'd them; and to the Graver,
A Child that guided Dotards. To his Miftrefs,
For whom he now is banish'd, her own Price
Proclaims how the efteem'd him; and his Virtue
By her Election may be truly read,
What kind of Man he is.

2 Gen

a 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,
Mark it) the eldest of them, at three Years old,
I'th' fwathing Cloaths the other, from their Nurfery
Were ftoll'n, 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 fhould be fo convey'd! So flackly Guarded, and the Search fo flow

That could not trace them

I Gent. Howfoe'er 'tis ftrange,

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

2 Gent. I do well believe you.

I Gent. We muft forbear. Here comes the Gentleman, The Queen, and Princess.

[Exeunt. Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and Attendants. Queen. No, be affur'd you fhall not find me, Daughter, After the Slander of moft Step-Mothers,

Evil-ey'd unto you: You're my Prifoner, but
Your Goaler fhall deliver you the Keys

That lock up your Reftraint. For you, Pofthamus,
So foon as I can win th' 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 Wifdom may inform you.

Poft. Please your Highness,

I will from hence to Day,

Queen. You know the peril:

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 diffembling Courtefie! How fine this Tyrant
Can tickle where the wounds! My deareft Husband,
I fomething fear my Father's Wrath, but nothing,
Always referv'd my holy Duty, what

G 4

His

His Rage can do on me.
You must be gone,
And I hall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry Eyes: Not comforted to live,
But that there is this Jewel in the World,
That I may fee again.

Poft. My Queen! my Miftrefs!

O Lady, weep no more, left I give caufe
To be fufpected of more Tenderness

Than doth become a Man. I will remain
The loyall'ft Husband, that did e'er plight Troth.
My Refidence 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 fend,
Though Ink be made of Gall.

Enter Queen.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you;

If the King come, I fhall incur, I know not

How much of his Difpleafure--yet I'll move him [Afide. way; I never do him wrong,

To

But he dis

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,

The lothnefs to depart, would grow; Adieu.
Imo. Nay, ftay a little:

Were you but riding forth to Air your felf,

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 Imagen is dead.

Poft. How, how? Another!

You gentle Gods, give me but this I have,
And fear up my Embracements from a next,

With Bonds of Death. Remain, remain thou here,

[Exit.

[Putting on the Ring. While Senfe can keep it on: And fweeteft, faireft, As I, my poor felf, did exchange for you To your fo infinite lofs: So in our Trifles I ftill win of you. For my fake wear this, It is a Manacle of Love, I'll place it

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.

Upon this faireft Prifoner.
Imo. O the Gods!

When fhall we fee again?

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords..

Poft. Alack, the King!

Cym. Thou bafeft thing, avoid, hence, from my Sight: If after this command thou fraught the Court With thy Unworthinefs, thou dyeft. Away! Thou'rt Poifon to my Blood.

Poft. The Gods protect you,

And blefs the good Remainders of the Court:

I am gone.

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

More fharp than this is.

Cym. O difloyal thing,

That fhould'ft repair my Youth, thou heap'ft

A Year's age on me.

Imo. I beseech you, Sir,

Harm not your felf with your Vexation,

I am fenfelefs of your Wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all Pangs, all Fears.

Cym. Paft Grace? Obedience?

[Exit.

Imo. Paft Hope, and in Defpair, that way paft Grace. Cym. That might'ft have had the fole Son of my Queen. Imo. O bleffed that I might not: I chose an Eagle, And did avoid a Puttock.

Cym. Thou took'ft a Beggar, would'ft have made my Throne A Seat for Bafenefs.

Imo. No, I rather added a Luftre to it.
Cym. O thou vile one!

Imo. Sir,

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; over-buys me
Almoft the Sum he pays.

Cym. What? art thou Mad?

Imo. Almoft, Sir; Heav'n reftore me: would I were A Neat-herds Daughter, and my Leonatus

Our Neighbour-Shepherd's Son.

Enter Queen.

Cym. Thou foolish thing;

They were again together, you have done

Not

Antony call, I fee him rowse himself

To praife my noble A&t. I hear him mock
The luck of Cafar, which the gods give Men
To excufe their atter wrath.

Husband, I come;
Now to that Name, my Courage prove my Title.
I am Fire, and Air; my other Elements

I give to bafer life.

So-have you done? Come then, and take the laft warmth of my Lips.

Farewel kind Charmian, Iras, long farewel. [Applying the Afp.
Have I the Afpick in my Lips? Doft fall?

If thou and Nature can fo gently part,
The ftroke of Death is as a Lovers Pinch,
Which hurts, and is defir'd.

Doft thou lye ftill?

If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'ft the World

It is not worth leave taking.

Char. Diffolve thick Cloud and Rain, that I may say,

The gods themselves do weep.

Cleo. This proves me base

If the approves the curled Antony,

He'll make demand of her, and spend that kifs.

Which is my Heav'n to have. Come thou mortal wretch, With thy fharp Teeth this knot intrinficate

Of life at once untie: Poor venomous Fool,

Be angry and difpatch. Oh couldft thou speak,

That I might hear thee call great Cafar Afs, unpolicied.
Char. Oh Eastern Star!

Cleo. Peace, peace!

Doft thou not fee my Baby at my Breaft,

That fucks the Nurfe afleep.

Char. O break! O break!

Cleo. As fweet as Balm, as foft as Air, as gentle.

O Antony! Nay I will take thee too.

What fhould I stay

Char. In this wild World? fo fare thee well:
Now boast thee Death, in thy poffeffion lyes
A Lafs unparallel'd. Downy Windows close,
And Golden Phoebus never be beheld

Of Eyes again fo Royal: your Crowns away,
I'll mend it, and then play

[Dies.

Enter