But to my mistress, is she the sole child to the king?
Pis. 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' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stol'n, and to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

Gent How long is this ago?

Pis. Some twenty years.

Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd"! S slackly guarded, and the search so slow

That could not trace them.

Pis. Howso'er 'tis strange,

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

Gent. I do well believe you.

Pis. Here comes my lord,

The queen, and princess, you must forbear.

Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, IMOGEN, and Attendants. Queen. No, be assur'd you shall not find me daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers,

Ill-ey'd unto you: you're my prisoner, but

Your goaler shall deliver you the keys,

That lock up your restraint. For you, good Posthumous, So soon 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 wisdom may inform you,

Post. 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, through the king
Hath charg'd you should not speak together.

Imo. Dissembling curtsey! how fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds! my dearest husband,
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,

[Exit.

Post.

Post. My queen! my mistress!
O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than both become a man, I will remain

The loyall'st husband, that did ere 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 love.
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
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 [Aside, To walk this way; I never do him wrong,

But he does buy my injuries, to be friends,

Pays dear for my offences.

Post. Should we be taking leave,

As long a term as yet we have to live,

The lothness to depart would grow.

Imo. Nay, stay a little.

[Exit.

Adieu.

Were you but riding forth to air yourself

Such parting were too petty. Look here, my lɔve,
This diamond was my mothers: 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 remembrances from a next

With bonds of death. Remain, remain thou here

[Putting on the ring.

While sense can keep thee on: And sweetest, fairest,
As I, my poor self, did exchange for you
To your so infinite loss: so in your trifles
I still win of you. For my sake wear this,
It is a manacle of love; I'll place it

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

Post. The Gods protect you,

And bless the good remainders of the court:

I am gone.

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

Pisanio, go see your lord on board.

Cym. O disloyal thing,

[Exit.

[Exit Pisanio.

That should'st repair my youth, thou heap'st

A year's age on me. Imo. I beseech you, Sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation,

I am senless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym. That migh't have had the sole son of my queen.
Imo. O, blest, that I might not!

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar, would'st have made my A seat for baseness.

Imo. No, I rather added

A lustre to it.

Cym. O thou vile one! Imo, Sir,

It is your fault that I have loved 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?

[throne,

Imo. Almost, Sir; heav'n restore me: would I were A neat-herds daughter, and my Posthumus

Our neighbour-shepherd'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,
Make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.

Cym. Nay let her languish

A drop of blood a day, and being aged

Die of this folly.

[Exit.

Queen. Fy, fy, you must give way-here is Pisanio.

Enter PISANIO.

Your faithful servant, and I dare lay mine honour

He will remain so.

Pis. I humbly thank your highness.

Imo. Well, good Pisanio.

[Exit Queen

Thou saw'st thy lord on board; what was the last

That he spake to thee.

Pis. 'Twas his lovely princess..

Imo. Then wav'd his hankerchief?
Pis. And kiss'd it, madam.

Imo. Senseless linen, happier therein than I:
And that was all?

Pis. No, madam: for so long

As he could make me with this eye or ear,
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief:
Still waving, as the fit and stirs of's mind
Could best express how slow his soul fail'd on,
How swift his ship.

Imo Thou should'st have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him. Pis. Madam, so I did.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye strings ;

Crack'd them but to look upon him; till the diminution Of space had pointed him as sharp as my needle;

Nay, followed him, 'till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnar, to air; and then

Then turn'd mine eye, and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?

Pis. Be assur'd, madam,

With his next 'vanʼage.

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say; ere I could tell him
How I would think on him at certain hours,

Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear,
The she's of Italy shall not betray

Mine interest, in his honour; or have charg'd him
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, or at midnight,
T'encounter me with oraisons, (for then

I am in heav'n for him;) or ere I coul

K 3

Give

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing. See the queen.
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. [Exeunt.
Enter QUEEN and CORNELIUS, with a Phial.

Queen. Now master doctor, have you brought these drugs?

Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay;

But I beseech your grace, without offence

My conscience bids me ask, wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds?
Queen. I wonder, doctor,

Thou ask'st me such a question: have I not been
Thy pupil long? I will but try the force

And vigour of thy compounds, and apply

Allayments to their act; and by them gather
Their virtues and effects.

Enter PISANIO.

Here comes a flatt'ring rascal; upon him
Will I first work: He's for his master's sake

An enemy to my son. A sly and constant knave,

The hand fast to her lord How now, Pisanio?

[Aside.

Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master,

And the remembrance of her, to hold

Doctor, your service for this tine is ended.

[Aside.

[To Pisanio,

Cor. I do suspect you, madam.

But

you shall do no harm.

Queen. Haik thee a word.

Cor. I will not trust one of her malice, with

A drug of such damu'd nature. Those she has

Will stupify and dull the sense a while,

But there is no danger in that shew of death,
More than the lock.ng up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd
With a most false effect; and I the truer,
So to be false with her.

[Exit.

Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou dost thou think in She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? do you work ;

[time,

When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son.