1 Gentleman. We must forbear; here comes the gentle

man,

The queen, and princess.

Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN.

[Exeunt.

Queen. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, 70 After the slander of most stepmothers,

Evil-eyed unto you; you 're my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint.-For you, Posthumus,
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 't were good
You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Posthumus.

I will from hence to-day.

Queen.

Please your highness,

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.

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,
But that there is this jewel in the world
That I may see again.

Posthumus.

My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause

To be suspected of more tenderness

80

[Exit.

90

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.

Queen.

Re-enter QUEEN.

Be brief, I pray you.

100

If the king come, I shall incur I know not

How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I 'll move him
To walk this way. I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries to be friends,—
Pays dear for my offences.

Posthumus.

Should we be taking leave

As long a term as yet we have to live,

The loathness to depart would grow.
Imogen. Nay, stay a little;

Adieu!

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.

Posthumus.

How, how! another?—

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

And sear up my embracements from a next

[Exit.

110

With bonds of death!--[Putting on the ring.] Remain, re

main thou here

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

120

Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting bracelet upon her arm.

Cymbeline. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my

sight!

If after this command thou fraught the court

With thy unworthiness, thou diest.
Thou 'rt poison to my blood.

Posthumus.

Away!

The gods protect you,

I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cymbeline.

Past grace? obedience?

[Exit.

130

Imogen. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. Cymbeline. That mightst have had the sole son of my

queen!

Imogen. O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.

140

Cymbeline. Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne

A seat for baseness.

Imogen.

A lustre to it.

Cymbeline. Imogen.

No; I rather added

Sir,

O thou vile one!

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.

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 !

Cymbeline.

Thou foolish thing!

150

Re-enter QUEEN.

They were again together; you have done.
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.

Cymbeline.

Nay, let her languish

[Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords.

A drop of blood a day, and, being aged,

Die of this folly!

Queen.

Fie! you must give way.

Enter PISANIO.

Here is your servant.-How now, sir! What news?

Pisanio. My lord your son drew on my master.

Queen.

No harm, I trust, is done?

Pisanio.

Ha!

160

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.

Queen.

I am very glad on 't.

Imogen. Your son 's my father's friend; he takes his

part.

To draw upon an exile !-O brave sir!

I would they were in Afric both together.

Myself by with a needle, that I might prick

The goer-back.—Why came you from your master?
Pisanio. 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 't pleas'd you to employ me.

This hath been

Queen.
Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.

Pisanio.

I humbly thank your highness.

Queen. Pray, walk awhile.
Imogen.

17C

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.

SCENE II. The Same. A Public Place.

Enter CLOTEN and two Lords.

[Exeunt.

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in ; there 's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

Cloten. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?

2 Lord. [Aside] No, faith; not so much as his patience. I Lord. Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt; it is a throughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

ΙΟ

2 Lord. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town.

Cloten. The villain would not stand me.

2 Lord. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.