Imatges de pÓgina

King Exit.

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

Poft. Please your Highness,
I will from hence to-day.

Queen. You know the peril:
l'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.

Imo. Dillembling courtesie! how fine this tyrant
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.

Poft. 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 loyall'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 ; :
If the King come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his difpleasure --- yet I'll move him [ Aside.
To walk this way ; I never do him wrong,
But he 8 'buys off my injuries to be friends,
Pays dear for my offences.

[Exit. Pelt. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live,

The 8 does buy

The lochness to depart would grow: adieu.

Imo. Nay, stay a little -
Were you but riding forth to air your self,
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.

Pot. 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,

[Putting on the ring
While sense can keep thee on !. and sweeteft, faireft,
As I my poor self did exchange for you
To your so infinite loss ; so in our trifes
I still 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 fairest pris’ner,

Imo. O the Gods !
When shall we see again?

S c Ε Ν Ε III.

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.
Poft. Alack, the King ! -

Cym. Thou baseft thing, avoid, hence, from my sight:
If after this command thou fraught the Court
With thy unworthiness, thou dy'st. Away !
Thou’rt poison to my blood.

Poft. The Gods protect you,
And bless the good remainders of the Court !

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.

Cym. O disloyal thing,
That should’st repair my youth, thou ' 'heapest many

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A year's age on me.

Ímo. I befeech you, Sir,
Harm not your self with your vexation ;
I'm senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym. Pait grace? obedience ?
Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.
Cym. Thou mght'st have had the sole son of my Queen.

Imo. O bleft that I might not ! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.

(throne Cym. Thou cook’tt a beggar; woud'st have made my A feat 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 ; 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 restore me! would I were
A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour-lhepherd's son!

Enter Queen.
Cym. Thou foolish thing!
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 t' ourselves, and make your self some comfort
Out of your best advice,

Cym. Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a-day, and being aged
Pie of this folly.



Enter Pifanio.
Queen. Fie, you must give way :
Here is your servant. How now, Sir ? what news ?

. My Lord your fon. drew on my master.
Queen. Hah!
No harm, I trust, is done ?

Pif. There might have been,
But that my master rather play'd than fought,
And had no help of anger : they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.
Queen. I'm very glad on't.

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 self by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your master ?

. 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't please you to employ me.

Queen. This hath been
Your faithful servant : I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.

Pif. I humbly thank your Highness.
Queen. Pray walk a while.

Imo. About some half hour hence, pray speak with me;
You shall, at least, go see my Lord aboard.
For this time leave me.


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Enter Cloten, and two Lords.
R, thirt

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.


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Clot. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it Have I hurt him?

2 Lord No, 'faith: not so much as his patience, [Aside.

1 Lord. Hurt him ? his body's a paflable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a thorough-fare for steel if it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His steel was in debt, it went o' th backside the town.

[Aide. Clot. The villain would not stand me. 2 Lord. No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.

[Aside. i Lord. Stand you? you have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground. 2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans, puppies !

[Afidei Clot. I would they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measur'd how long you were upon the ground.

[Aide Clot. And that The should love this fellow, and refuse

me ! 2 Lord. If it be a fin to make a true 'election, she's damn'd.

[Afide. Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.

2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.

[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll to my chamber : would there had been some hurt done!

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.

[Afide. Clot. You'll go with us? i Lord. I'll attend your Lordship. Clot. Nay, come, let's go together. 2 Lord. Well, my Lord.


a fool


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