Guid. But we faw him dead.

Bel. Be filent: let's fee further.

Pif. 'Tis my mistress

[Afide.

Since the is living, let the time run on,

To good, or bad.

Cym. Come, ftand thou by our fide.

Make thy demand aloud. Sir, ftep you forth, [To Iachimo. Give answer to this boy, and do it freely,

Or by our greatnefs and the grace of it

Which is our honour, bitter torture fhall
Winnow the truth from falfhood.

On, fpeak to him. Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.

Poft. What's that to him?

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, fay How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken, that Which to be spoke would torture thee.

Cym. How? me?

Iach. I'm glad to be constrain'd to utter what

Torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel,

[thee,

Whom thou didst banish: and, (which more may grieve

As it doth me) a nobler Sir ne'er liv'd

'Twixt sky and ground. Will you hear 9 more? Cym. All that

Belongs to this.

Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,

For whom my heart drops blood, and my falfe fpirits
Quail to remember-give me leave, I faint- [Swoons
Cym. My daughter, what of her? renew thy ftrength;
I'ad rather thou fhouldft live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: ftrive, man, and speak.
Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That ftruck the hour) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The manfion where) 'twas at a feaft, (oh would
Our viands had been poifon'd! or at least
O 3

9 more, my lord?

Thofe

Thofe which I heav'd to head :) the good Pofthumus
What fhould I fay? he was too good to be
Where ill men were, and was the beft of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones--fitting fadly,
Hearing us praife our loves of Italy

For beauty, that made barren the fwell'd boast
Of him that beft could fpeak; for ftature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva;
Poftures, beyond brief nature; for condition,
A fhop of all the qualities, that man

Loves woman for; befides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which ftrikes the eye-

Cym. I ftand on fire.

Come to the matter.

Iach. All too foon I fhall,

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Poftbumus, (Moft like a noble Lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover) took his hint;

And, not difpraifing whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began

His miftrefs' picture; which by his tongue made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd-of kitching-trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to th' purpose.

Iach. Your daughter's chastity; there it begins:
He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And the alone were cold; whereat, I wretch
Made fcruple of his praise, and wag'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

2.

In fuit the place of 's bed, and win this ring,
By her and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring,
(And would fo, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it

1 Feature, old edit. Theob, emend.

2 hers

Been

Been all the worth of's car.) Away to Britain
Poft I in this defign: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at Court, where I was taught
By your chafte daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous, and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
"Gan in your duller Britain operate

Moft vilely; for my vantage excellent :
And to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown,
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(Oh cunning how I got it!) nay, fome marks
Of fecret on her perfon, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit; whereupon,
Methinks I fee him now-

Poft. Ay, fo thou doft,

[Coming forward.
Italian fiend! ah me, moft credulous fool,
Egregious murtherer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains paft, in being,

To come oh give me cord, or knife, or poifon,
Some upright jufticer! Thou King, fend our
For torturers ingenious; it is I

That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter: villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a leffer villain than my self,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was fhe, yea, and fhe her felf.-
Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bait me: every villain
Be call'd Pofthumus Leonatus, and

Be villainy lefs than 'twas. Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

0 4

Imo.

Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear

Poft. Shall's have a play of this? thou fcornful page, There lye thy part.

[Striking her, he falls.

Oh, my Lord Pofthumus! ·

Pif. Oh gentlemen, 3 'oh, help,

Mine and your mistress

You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now-help, help,

Mine honour'd Lady

Cym. Does the world go round?

Poft. How come thefe ftaggers on me?

Pif. Wake, my mistress!

Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to ftrike me To death with mortal joy.

Pif. How fares my mistress?

Imo. Oh, get thee from my fight,

Thou gav'ft me poifon : dang'rous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pif. Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing! I had it from the Queen. Cym. New matter ftill?

Imo. It poifon'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd,
Which must approve thee honeft. If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, giv'n his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, fhe is ferv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem; I dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain ftuff, which being ta'en would feize
The prefent power of life, but in fhort time

3 help,

All

All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Moft like I did, for I was dead.

Bel. My boys,

There was our error.

Guid. This is fure Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your

your wedded Lady from you?

[To Poft.

Think that you are upon a rock, and now

[Throwing her arms about his neck.

Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul,

'Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh? my child?

What, mak'ft thou me a dullard in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your bleffing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not,

You had a motive for't.

[To Guiderius and Arviragus.

Cym. My tears that fall
Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord.

Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and long of her it was That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My Lord,

Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my Lady's miffing, came to me

With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore
If I discover'd not which way fhe went

It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my mafter's
Then in my pocket, which directed her
To feek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchafte purpose, and with oath to violate

My