Puts him to all the learnings that his time In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court, 2 Gent. I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell 1 Gent. His only child. me, He had two sons; (if this be worth your hearing, Which way they went. 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 1 Gent, Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd! So slackly guarded! and the search so slow, 1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. 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-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet Post. Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen. You know the peril : I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying [Exit Queen. Imo. O, Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, His rage can do on me: You must be gone; Post. My queen! my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, 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 To walk this way: I never do him wrong, Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu! [Aside. Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Post. How! how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, [Exit. [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. Imo, O, the gods! When shall we see again? Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! If, after this command, thou fraught the court Post. The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death › More sharp than this is. Cym. O disloyal thing, That should'st repair my youth; thou heapest A year's age on me! Imo. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Cym. Past grace? obedience? [Exit. 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 my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. No; I rather added A lustre to it. Cym. O thou vile one! Imo. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus: You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is Cym. 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. Cym. 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 comfort Out of your best advice. Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a-day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! Enter PISANIO. Queen. Fye!-you must give way: [Exit. Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news? Pis. My lord, your son, drew on my master. Queen. Ha!. No harm, I trust, is done? Pis. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, Queen. I am very glad on't. Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part. |