CYMBELINE IA C T I. SCENE I. 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 heaveus, than our courtiers; Still seem, as does the King's. 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: wedded; She's Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd all 2. Gent. None but the King? 1. Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the Queen, That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent 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, 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 Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, And had, besides this gentleman in question, 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 Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber: Puts to him all the learnings that his time What kind of man he is. 2. Gent. I honour bim 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, 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 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. [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, Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet Post. Please your Highness, 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 Queen. Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant husband, My dearest I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, Post. My Queen! my Mistress! 0, Lady, weep no more; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man! I will remain Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you: How much of his displeasure:" him Yet I'll move, [Aside. [Exit 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, 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. How how! another? You gentle Cods; give ine but this I have, With bonds of death! - Remaio, remain thon here [Putting on the ring. |