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The same.

Enter the Queen, PosthumUS, and IMOGEN.
Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me,

After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you,

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


you. Post.

Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen.

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.

[Exit Queen. Imo.

O Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds ! - My dearest. hus

band, 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.

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.

Re-enter Queen. Queen.

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

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

[E.cit. Post.

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.

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 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.

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.

6 Close up.

When shall we see again ?

O, the gods !

I am gone.

Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post.

Alack, the king!
Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid ! hence, from my

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

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

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.

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

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.

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

grace. Cym. That might'st 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 ; would'st have made

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my throne

A seat for baseness.

No; I rather added
A lustre to it.

O thou vile one ! Imo.


7 Fill.

8 A more exquisite feeling.

9 A kite. 1 Cat:1c-keeper.

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

What! - art thou mad! Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!-'Would

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

Re-enter Queen. Сут. .

Thou foolish thing!They were again together : you have done

[To the Queen. 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

Out of your best advice. ?

Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!





Fye! - you must give way: Here is your servant. - How now, sir ? What news?

Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.

No harm, I trust, is done?

There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand.

2 Consideration.


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 Africk both together ; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer back. - Why came you from your

master? Pis. On his command : He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven : left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When it pleas'd you to employ me. Queen.

This hath been Your faithful servant : I dare lay mine honour, He will remain so. Pis.

I humbly thank your highness. Queen. Pray, walk a while. Imo.

About some half hour hence, I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least, Go see my lord aboard : for this time, leave me.



A publick Place.

Enter Cloten, and Two Lords. Clo. Have 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. Clo. The villain would not stand me. 2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward

[Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of

your face.

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