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What would'st thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on?
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Wherefore ey'st him so? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
Cym. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, sir. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? Arv. One sand another Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad, Who died, and was Fidele: What think you? Gui. The same dead thing alive.
Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us.
Since she is living, let the time run on, To good, or bad.
It is my mistress: [Aside.
The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
His mistress picture; which by his tongue being
As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach. That paragon, thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember, Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Nay, nay, to the purpose. Iach. Your daughter's chastity-There it begins. He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch !
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more, may (O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
By wounding his belief in her renown
Ay, so thou dost [Coming forward. Italian fiend! - Ah me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come!
- O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend,
That kill'd thy daughter: - villain-like, I lie;
The tune of Imogen!
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
It poison'd me.
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
[Striking her she falls.
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Let me end the story:
Marry, the gods forefend!
Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
What's this, Cornelius ?
There was our error.
This is sure, Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and
I slew him there.
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
[To the guard.
A banish'd traitor.
They were not born for bondage.
We will die all three.
My sons, I must,
Your danger is
Gui. And our good his.
Have at it then.
What of him? he is
He it is, that hath
Nursing of my sons? Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.
How! my issue?
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, and so they are,) these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't; Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty, Excited me to treason: Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world: The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Bel. Be pleas'd awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce.
Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.
This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: It was wise nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now.
And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
For they shall taste our comfort.
My good master,
I will yet do you service.
Happy be you! Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.
I am, sir,
Iach. I am down again: [Kneeling. But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess, That ever swore her faith.
Kneel not to me; The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.
Nobly doom'd; We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all.
Good my lord o
Post. Your servant, princes. Rome, Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it; let him show His skill in the construction.
Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestick cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The tomb of the Andronici appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, below, SATURNINUS and his Followers, on one side; and BASSIANUS and his Followers, on the other; with drum and colours.
EMILIUS, a noble Roman.
AARON, a moor, beloved by Tamora.
Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
ROME; and the Country near it.
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
sons to Tamora.
TAMORA, Queen of the Goths.
LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus.
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we stand
Lives not this day within the city walls:
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
Bas. Romans,-friends, followers, favourers of Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: Five times he hath return'd
Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers,
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
By honour of his name, Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,