SCENE I-Britain. The garden behind Cym- beline's palace. Enter Two Gentlemen. 1 Gentleman.
You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods! No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers; Still seem, as does the king's. But what's the matter? 2 Gent. 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his king- dom, 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; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart. None but the king?
2 Gent. 1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen,
His measure duly.3 What's his name, and birth? 2 Gent. 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, Against the Romans, with Cassibelan; But had his titles by Tenantius,4 whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success: So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus:
And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o'the time, Died with their swords in hand; for which then father
(Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow, That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd To his protection; calls him Posthumus; As he was born. The king, he takes the babe Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber Puts him to all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court, As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier,(Which rare it is to do,) most prais'd, most lov'd Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.
And why so? 2 Gent. 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 dike, there would be something failing I do not think In him that should compare.
So fair an outward, and such stuff within, Endows a man but he.
You speak him far.2 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold
(1) Inclination, natural disposition. (2) i. e. You praise him extensively.
(3) My praise, however extensive, is within his
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature, A glass that feated them; and to the graver, A child that guided dotards: to his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price By her election may be truly read, Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; What kind of man he is.
I honour him But, 'pray you, tell me,
Even out of your report. Is she sole child to the king?
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.
How long is this ago? 1 Gent. Some twenty years.
(4) The father of Cymbeline. (5) Formed their manners.
2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con- || You gentle gods, give me but this I have, 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.
1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess.
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, 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 'twere good, You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience Your wisdom may inform you.
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.
[Exit Queen. 0, 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 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. 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 [Aside.
To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences. [Exit. Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu! Imo. Nay, stay a little:
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. Post.
And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death!-Remain thou here
[Putting on the ring. While sense2 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, the gods!
Out of your best advice.8 Cym.
How! how! another?-A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
(2) Sensation. (4) A more exquisite ferling
(6) A kite. 8) Consideration.
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