His Rage can do on me.
You must be gone,
And I hall here abide the hourly fhot
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
Though Ink be made of Gall.

Enter Queen.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you;

you fend,

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

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

But he do's 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 lothness 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 Imogen 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 shall we see again?

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

Poft. Alack, the King!

Cym. Thou bafest 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 bless 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 should't 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'st have made my Throne A Seat for Baseness.

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
Almost 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

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

Queen. Befeech your Patience; Peace,

Dear Lady Daughter, peace. Sweet Sovereign,

Leave us to our felves, and make your felf fome Comfort Out of your beft Advice.

Queen. Fie, you must give way:

Here is your Servant. How now, Sir? What News?

Pif. My Lord your Son, drew on my Master.

Queen. Hah!

No harm, I truft, is done?

Pif. There might have been,

But that my Mafter rather play'd than fought,
And had no help of Anger: they were parted
By Gentlemen, at hand.

Queen. I am very glad on't.

[Exit.

Imo. Your Son's my Father's Friend, he takes his part To draw upon an Exile; O brave Sir,

I would they were in Africk both together,

My felf by with a Needle, that I might prick
The goer back. Why came you from your Mafter?
Pif. On his command; he would not fuffer me
To bring him to the Haven: Left these Notes
Of what Commands I fhould be fubject to,
When't please you to employ me.

Queen. This hath been

Your faithful Servant: Idare lay mine Honour
He will remain fo.

Pif. I humbly thank your Highness.

Queen. Pray walk a while.

Imo. About fome half Hour hence, pray you speak with

me;

You fhall, at least, go fee my Lord aboard.

For this time leave me.

[Exeunt.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords. I 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 r.one abroad fo whollome as that you vent.

Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift itHave I hurt him?

2 Lord. No faith: Not fo much as his Patience.

i Lord. Hurt him? His Body's a paflable Caikals if he be not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steel if it be not hurt. 2 Lord. His Steel was in debt, it went o'th'Back-fide the Town.

Clot. The Villain would not ftand me.

2 Lord. No, but he fled forward ftill, toward your Face. 1 Lord. Stand you? you have Land enough of your own: But he added to your having, gave you fome ground.

2 Lord. As many Inches, as you have Oceans, Puppies! Clot. I would they had not come between us.

2 Lord. So would I, 'till you had measur'd how long a Fool you were upon the Ground.

Clot. And that she should love this Fellow, and refufe me! 2 Lord. If it be a Sin to make a true Election, he is damn'd. 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her Beauty and her Brain go not together. She's a good Sign, but I have feen small

reflection of her Wit.

Lord. She fhines not upon Fools, left the reflection Should hurt her.

Clot. Come, I'll to my Chamber: would there had been fome hurt done.

2 Lord. I wish not fo, unlefs it had been the fall of an Afs, which is no great hurt.

Clot. You'll go with us?

1 Lord. I'll attend your Lordship.

Clot. Nay come, let's go together.

2 Lord. Well, my Lord.

Enter Imogen, and Pifanio.

[Exeunt.

Imo. I would thou grew'ft unto the Shores o'th' Haven, And questioned'ft ev'ry Sail: If he should write,

And I not have it, 'twere a Paper loft

As offer'd Mercy is: what was the last

That he fpake to thee?

Pif. It was his Queen, his Queen.
Imo. Then wav'd his Handkerchief?
Pif. And kifs'd it, Madam.

Imo. Senfelefs Linnen, happier therein than I: And that was all?

Pif. No, Madam; for fo long

As he could make me with his Eyes, or Ear,
Diftinguish him from others, he did keep
The Deck, with Glove, or Hat, or Handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and ftirrs of's mind

Could beft exprefs how flow his Soul fail'd on,
How fwift his Ship.

Imo. Thou fhould'st have made him

As little as a Crow, or lefs, e'er left

To after-eye him.

Pif. Madam, fo I did.

Ime. I would have broke mine Eye-ftrings ;

Crack'd them, but to look upon him; 'till the Diminution Of space, had pointed him fharp as my Needle;

Nay, followed him, 'till he had melted from

The fmallness of a Gnat, to air; and then

Have turn'd mine Eye, and wept. But, good Pifanie,
When fhall we hear from him?

Pif. Be affur'd, Madam,

With his next Vantage.

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had
Moft pretty things to fay; E'er I could tell him
How I would think on him at certain Hours,
Such thoughts, and fuch; or I could make him fwear,
The She's of Italy fhould not betray

Mine Intereft, and his Honour; or have charg'd him
At the fixth Hour of Morn, at Noon, at Midnight,
T'encounter me with Oraifons, for then

I am in Heav'n for him; or e'er I could,
Give him that parting Kifs, which I had fet
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my Father,
And like the tyrannous breathing of the North,
Shakes all our buds from growing.

Enter a Lady.

Lady. The Queen, Madam,

Defires your Highnefs Company.

Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd,

I will attend the Queen.

Pif. Madam, I shall.

[Exeunt.

SCENE