CYMBELINE, King of Britain. LEONATUS POSTHUMOUS, Husband to Imogen. PISANIO, Servant to Posthumus. IACHIMO, Friend to Philario. IMOGEN, Daughter to Cymbeline by former Queen. HELEN, Woman to Imogen. Imogen. DISSEMBLING courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds !-My dearest husband, 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, Posthumus. My queen! my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth; Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, * Posthumus. * Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: When Imogen is dead. Posthumus. How! how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, [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 Upon this fairest prisoner. Imogen. When shall we see again? * * [Putting a bracelet on her arm. O, the gods! It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus: Cymbeline. What-art thou mad? Imogen. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me! 'Would I were A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son ! SCENE IV. Imogen. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, And question'dst every sail: if he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? Pisanio. Imogen. Then wav'd his handkerchief? Pisanio. 'Twas, his queen, his queen! And kiss'd it, madam. Imogen. Senseless linen! happier therein than I !— And that was all? Pisanio. Imogen. Thou should'st have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left Imogen. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but To look upon him; till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle: The smallness of a gnat to air; and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept.-But, good Pisanio, Pisanio. With his next vantage. Be assur'd, madam, Imogen. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours, Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him, To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set SCENE V.-Rome. Iachimo. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something But I make my wager rather against your confidence, than her reputation: and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. Posthumus. What lady would you choose to assail? Iachimo. Yours; whom in constancy, you think, stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine so reserved. SCENE VII. Imogen. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; That hath her husband banish'd: O, that husband! Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO. Pisanio. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters. Iachimo. All of her, that is out of door, most rich. If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, [Aside. |