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Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
Char.

O, break! O, break!

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This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood, and spake;
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; trembling she stood,
And on the sudden dropp'd.
Cæs.

O noble weakness!

By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.

5

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle-If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
O Antony! Nay, I will take thee too:
[Applying another Asp to her Arm.
What should I stay
[Falls on a Bed, and dies.
Char. In this wild world? So, fare thee well.
Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel'd. — Downy windows close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld

Of
eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard. Where is the queen? Char.

Speak softly, wake her not.

1 Guard. Cæsar hath sent Char.

Too slow a messenger. [Applies the Asp. O, come: apace, despatch: I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Cæsar's beguil'd.

2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar; ·

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Dol.
Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood, and something blown :
The like is on her arm.

1 Guard. This is an aspick's trail: and these fig-
leaves

Have slime upon them, such as the aspick leaves
Upon the caves of Nile.

Cæs.

Most probable,

That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die. - Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:
She shall be buried by her Antony;
No grave upon the earth shall clip 6 in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them: and their story is
No less in pity than his glory, which
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
Brought them to be lamented.
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.

• Graceful appearance.

Our army shall,

[Exeunt.

6 Enfold.

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1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at.

And why so?

2 Gent. 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, (I mean, that married her, -alack, good man! And therefore banish'd, is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth Inclination, natural disposition.

For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think,
So fair an outward, and such stuff within,
Endows a man but he.

2 Gent.

You speak him far. ? 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 3

2 Gent.

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What's his name, and birth? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, Against the Romans, with Cassibelan: But had his titles by Tenantius 4, whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success: So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus: And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time, Died with their swords in hand; for which thei

father

(Then old and fond of issue) took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to 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

2i.e. You praise him extensively.

3 My praise, however extensive, is within his merit. 4 The father of Cymbeline.

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Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN.

Queen. No, be assur'd, 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, Posthúmus,
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. Queen.

Please your highness,

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

Imo.

[Exit QUEEN.

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I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, (Always reserv'd 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.

5 Formed their manners.

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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.

[Exit.
Imo. 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 8
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

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

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