Dy'd with their swords in hand; for which, their father (Then old and fond of issue) took such sorrow. In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court, What kind of man he is. 2. Gent. I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king? 1. Gent. His only child. He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing, nursery Were stolen; and to this hour, no guefs 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 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, Yet is it true, sir. 2. Gent. I do well believe you. 1. Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the gentleman, The queen, and princess.. SCENE II. The same. [Exeunt. Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthu mus, So soon as I can win the offended king, 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. Imo. O [Exit. Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, Post. My queen! my mistrefs! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause Than doth become a man! I will remain 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: him Yet I'll move 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, [Aside. [Exit. The lothness to depart would grow: Adieu! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, You gentle gods, give me but this I have, While sense here can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, 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 hasest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthinefs, thou dy'st: Away! Thou art poison to my blood. Post. The gods protect you! And blefs 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, [Exit. 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 Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. Cym. Past grace? obedience? A Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my queen! Imo. O blest, 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: 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. |