Queen. Re-enter Queen. If the king come, I shall incur I know not Be brief, I pray you: How much of his displeasure.-Yet I 'll move him [aside. [Exit. To walk this way: I never do him wrong, Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu ! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, When Imogen is dead. Post. How! how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear1 up my embracements from a next With bonds of death!-Remain, remain thou here [putting on the ring. While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss; so, in our trifles, I still win of you. For my sake, wear this; 1 Close. Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! 1 If, after this command, thou fraught 1 the court Post. The gods protect you, [Exit. And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. Harm not yourself with your vexation : I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare 2 Subdues all pangs, all fears. Cym. Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. 1 Fill. 2 A more exquisite feeling. Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.1 Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: Cym. What!-art thou mad? Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me !-Would I were A neatherd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbor shepherd's son ! Queen. Beseech your patience.-Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace.-Sweet sovereign, comfort Out of your best advice.1 Cym. Nay, let her languish [Exit. A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! Enter PISANIO. Queen. Fie!-you must give way: Here is your servant. -How now, sir? What news? Pi. My lord your son drew on my master. No harm, I trust, is done? Pi. Ha! There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, Queen. I am 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 Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer back. Why came you from your master? Pi. On his command: he would not suffer me 1 Consideration. To bring him to the haven; left these notes Queen. This hath been Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honor, He will remain so. Pi. I humbly thank your highness. About some half-hour hence, Queen. Pray, walk awhile. I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least, [Exeunt. SCENE III. A public place. Enter CLOTEN and TWO LORDS. 1 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 none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift itHave I hurt him? 2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. [aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt it is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt. 2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town. [aside. Clo. The villain would not stand me. |