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, fast as 'twas minister'd,

And in's spring became a harvest: lived in court, (Which rare it is to do,) most praised, most loved :

A sample to the youngest; to the more mature
A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress-
For whom he now is banish'd-her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue ;
By her election may be truly read

What kind of man he is.

I honour him

2 Gent. Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king?

I 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' the swathing clothes the other, from their

nursery

Were stolen; and to this hour no guess in knowledge

Which way they went.

2 Gent.

How long is this ago?

I Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd !

So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them!

I Gent.

Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

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 must forbear: here comes the

gentleman,

The queen, and princess.

[Exeunt.

Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assured, you shall not find me, daughter,

After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-eyed unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the 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.

I will from hence to-day.

Please your highness,

Queen. You know the peril :I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charged you should not speak together.

[Exit.

Imo. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband,

I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing (Always reserved 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.

Post. 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 loyal'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.

Queen.

Re-enter QUEEN.

Be brief, I pray you :
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure.—[Aside.] Yet I'll
move him

To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.

Post.

[Exit.

Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live,

The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! Imo. Nay, stay a little :

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

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.

Post. How! how! another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear 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;

It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.

Imo.

[Putting a bracelet on her arm. O, the gods!

When shall we see again?

Post.

Alack, the king!

Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from
my sight!

If after this command thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest away!
Thou art poison to my blood.

Post.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!

I am gone.

Imo.

[Exit

There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this is.

Cym.

O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth; thou heapest A year's age on me!

Imo.

I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym.

Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way,

past grace.

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.

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

A seat for baseness.

Imo.

A lustre to it.

Cym. Imo.

No; I rather added

O thou vile one!

Sir,

It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow; and he is
A man worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

Cym.

Imo. Almost, sir: 'Would I were

What! art thou mad?

A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son !

Cym.

Re-enter QUEEN.

Thou foolish thing!—

[To the QUEEN.] 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 to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.

Cym.

A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,

Die of this folly !

Queen.

Nay, let her languish

[Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords.

Fie!-you must give way:

Enter PISANIO.

Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What

news?

Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.
Queen.

No harm, I trust, is done?

Ha!