SCENE 1.-Britain. The Garden behind Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers Still seem as does the king. 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow That late he married,) hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: She 's wedded Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king 2 Gent. None but the king? I Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not 2 Gent. And why so? 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, (I mean, that married her,--alack, good man!And therefore banish'd,) is a creature such As to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward, and such stuff within, Endows a man but he. 2 Gent. You speak him far. 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father And had, besides this gentleman in question, Died with their swords in hand: for which, their father And in 's spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court, What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. His only child. 1 Gent. He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing, Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, I' 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 convey'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, 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the gentleman, 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 Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthúmus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good, Post. I will from hence to-day. 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 [Exit QUEEN. Imo. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant (Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what His rage can do on me: You must begone; Of angry eyes; not comforted to live, Post. My queen! my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. Who to my father was a friend, to me Re-enter QUEEN. Queen. Be brief, I pray you : If the king come, I shall incur I know not Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu ! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, When Imogen is dead. Post. How! how! another?- You gentle gods, give me but this I have, [Aside. [Exit. [Putting on the ring. While sense can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest, Imo. When shall we see again? Post. [Putting a bracelet on her arm. O, the gods! Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away! Post. The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. That shouldst repair my youth; thou heapest Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. Сут. Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace [Exit. Cym. That mightst 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; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. A lustre to it. Cym. Imo. No; I rather added O thou vile one! 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 neatherd's daughter! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son ! Re-enter QUEEN. Сут. Thou foolish thing! They were again together: you have done [To the QUEEN. 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! Queen. Enter PISANIO. Fye-you must give way: Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news? Pis. My lord your son drew on my master. Qucen. No harm, I trust, is done? Pis. Ha! There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, Qucen. I am very glad on't. Imo. 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? Pis. 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. Queen, This hath been [Exit. |