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To his protection ; calls him Posthumus;
I honour him
His only child. He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing, Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, l'the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen: and to this hour, no guess in knowledge 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 con
vey'd! So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them ! 1 Gent.
Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent.
I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen,
s Formed their manners.
Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and IMOGEN.
you That lock up your restraint.
: marry, yet
Please your highness,
You know the peril:
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. 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
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.
Should we be taking leave
Imo. Nay, stay a little:
How! how! another? -
(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.
o Close up.
O, the gods !
I am gone.
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post.
Alack, the king!
The gods protect you ! And bless the good remainders of the court !
O disloyal thing,
I beseech you, sir,
vexation; I Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare Subdues all
all fears. Сут.
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
A seat for baseness.
No; I rather added
O thou vile one !
8 A more exquisite feeling.
9 A kite.
fault that I have lov'd Posthumus :
What! - art thou mad ! Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!-'Would
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
Nay, let her languish
Fye! you must give way: Here is your servant.
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, And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand.