He leaves me, scorns me : Briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys.— Why stands he so perplex'd?

Cym.

What would'st thou, hoy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than to your highness; who, being born your
Am something nearer.
[vassal,
Cym
Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imo. Til tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
Cym.

Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo. Fidele, sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. (Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart.) Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? Arv. One sand another Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad, Who died, and was Fidele:- What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive. forbear: Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.

Gui.

But we saw him dead.

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall him.
Winnow the truth from falsehood.-On, speak to
Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had that ring.

Post.

What's that to him? (Aside.) Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee,
Cym
How! me?
Tach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that,
Torments me to conceal. By villany
[which
I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may
grieve thee,

As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my
Cym. All that belongs to this.
[lord?
Lach.
That paragon, thy daughter,
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember,-Give me leave ;--I faint.
Cym. My daughter what of her? Renew thy
strength:

I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more strive, man, and speak.
Tach. Upon a time, unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthumus,
(What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or strai,ht pight Minerva,

Come to the matter.
Iach.
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.- This Pos
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover,) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began

thomas,

His mistress' picture; which by his tongue bei And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym.
Nay, nay, to the perpose
Iach. Your daughter's chastity-There it begins
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with bi
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so sately, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britam
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir.
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus querch d
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my avantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular 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
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I see him now,-

Post. Ay, so thou dost, (Coming forward)
Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thon king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is l
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend
By being worse than they. I am Posthumes,
That kill'd thy daughter-villaiu-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself.
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me ; every
Be call'd, Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas-O Inogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen!
Imogen, Imogen!

page,

villain

Imo. Peace, my lord: hear, bearPost. Shall's have a play of this? Thon scord There lie thy part. (Striking her: she fails" O, gentlemen, help, help Mine, and your mistress:-0. my lord Posthumal You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now :-Help, help Mine honour'd lady!

Pis.

Cym.

Does the world go round Post. How come these staggers on me?

Pis.

Wake, my mistress

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike To death with mortal joy

Pis.

Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. Pis. Lady,

The tune of Imogen!

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the queen. Cym. New matter still?

Imo.

Cor.

It poison'd me.

O gods!I left out one thing, which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat.

Cym

What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
la 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 stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again

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

There was our error.

Gui.

I thought had been my lord. Cym.

That headless man

Bind the offender,

And take him from our presence. Bel.

Stay, sir king;

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone;

They were not born for bondage.
Cym.

(To the guard.)

Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?

Arv.

In that he spake too far.

Cym. And thou shalt die for't. Rel.

We will die all three :

This is sure, Fidele.

[you?

A banish'd traitor.

He it is, that hath

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from Think, that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again.

Post.

fill the tree die!

Cym.

(Embracing him.) Hang there like fruit, my soul,

How now, my flesh, my child? A hat, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Vilt thou not speak to me? Imo.

Your blessing, sir. (Kneeling.) Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; (to Guiderius and Arviragus.) en had a motive for it. Cym

My tears, that fall, 'rove holy water on thee! Imogen, by mother's dead.

brio. Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, hat we meet bere so strangely: But her son gone, we know not how, nor where. Pis.

I am sorry for't, my lord.

My lord, low fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, pon my lady's missing, came to me [swore, With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and 'I discover'd not which way she was gone, was my instant death: By accident, bad a feigned letter of my master's hen in my pocket; which directed him

seek her on the mountains near to Milford; There, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Thach be enforc'd from me, away he posts

its unchaste purpose, and with oaths to violate ly lady's honour: what became of him, further know not.

Bel.

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man; I know not how, a traitor.

Cym.

Not too hot:

Take him hence;
The whole world shall not save him.
Bel.
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv'd it.

Сут.
Nursing of my sons?
Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee;
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.
Cym.

How! my issue?
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd :
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,

The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again: and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:--
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
Cym.
Thon weep'st, and speak'st.
The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel.

Be pleas'd a while.-
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderins:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,

Arv. Ay, my good lord. Gui.

Did you e'er meet?

And at first meeting lov'd; Continued so, until we thought he died. Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct! [ment When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgeHath to it circumstantial brauches, which [you? Distinction should be rich in.-Where? how liv'd And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.
(To Belarius.)
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.

Cym.

All o'erjoy'd,

Save these in bouds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo.

I will yet do you service.

Luc.

My good master,

Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.

Post.

I am, sir,

The soldier, that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose
I then follow'd:-That I was he,
Speak, lachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach.
I am down again, (Kneeling.)
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but your ring first;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post.

Kneel pot to me;

The power, that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.

Sooth. Here, my good lord.

Luc.

Read, and declare the meaning Sooth. (Reads.) When as a lion's whelp, shall t himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after rect be jointed to the old stock, and freshly gr then shall Posthumus end his miseries. Brits be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much : The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, (To Cymbeline

Which we call mollis aer; and mollis air
We term it mulier: which mulier, I divine,
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Cym. Well, My peace we will begin:-And, Cairs Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar, And to the Roman empire; promising Το pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen: Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and her) Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do te The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the san So vanish'd: which foreshew'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cæsar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.