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As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.
[Exit.
The Battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBE-
LINE is taken: then enter to his rescue, BE-
LARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage
of the ground;

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villany of our fears.

Gui. Arv. Stand, stand, and fight!

Enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons: They rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and IMOGEN.

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself:

For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hood-wink'd.

lach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's re-enforce, or fly. [Exeunt. SCENE 111.-Another Part of the Field. Enter POSTHUMUS and a British LORD. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made

the stand?

Post. I did:

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
Lord. I did.

Post. No blame be to you, Sir; for all was lost,

But that the heavens fought: The king himselt
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying,
Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having
work

More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some
falling
[damm'd*
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards liv-
To die with lengthen'd shame.
[ing

Lord. Where was this lane? Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf;

With their own nobleness, (which could have turn'd

A distaff to a lance,) gilded pale looks,
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some,
turn'd coward

But by example (O, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o'the hunters. Then began
A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon,

A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles;
slaves,
[cowards
The strides they victors made: and now our
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became
The life o'the need; having found the back-
door open
[wound!
Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they
Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their
[one,
O'erborne i'the former wave: ten, chac'd by
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugs o'the field.

friends

Lord. This was strange chance:

A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are

made

Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, Sir.
Post. 'Lack, to what end?

Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend:
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.

Lord. Farewell, you are angry. [Exit. Post. Still going?-This is a lord! Onoble misery! To be i'the field, and ask, what news, of me! To-day, how many would have given their honours [do't, To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him

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Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,-'Tis
An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country;-athwart the
lane,

He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base, than to commit such slaugh-

ter;

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find him:

For being now a favourer to the Roman,
No more a Briton, I have re-sum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall [is
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take; for me my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath,
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

Enter two British CAPTAINS, and Soldiers.

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken; [angels. 'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly That gave the affront with them. [habit, 1 Cap. So 'tis reported:

But none of them can be found.-Stand! who is there?

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Post. A Roman,

CYMBELINE.

Who had not now been drooping here, if se-
Had answer'd him.

[conds

2 Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here: He brags his service

As if he were of note: bring him to the king.

Enter CYMBELINE, attended; BELARIUS, GUI-
DERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and ROMAN
CAPTIVES. The CAPTAINS present POSTHU-
MUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to
a JAILER: after which, all
go out.

SCENE IV.-A Prison.

Enter POSTHUMUS, and two JAILERS.

1 Jail. You shall not now be stolen, you have looks upon you;

So, graze, as you find pasture.

2 Jail. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt JAILERS.
Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art
a way,

1 think, to liberty: Yet am I better
Than one that's sick o'the gout: since he had
Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd [rather
By the sure physician, death; who is the key
To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou
art fetter'd

More than my shanks, and wrists: You good
gods, give me

The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt,
Then, free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,*
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me, than my all.

I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my desire:
For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though
"Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it:
"Tween man and man, they weigh not every
stamp;

Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
You rather mine, being yours: And so, great
powers,

If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.

[He sleeps.

Solemn music.+ Enter, as an Apparition, SICI-
LIUS LEONATUS, Father to POSTHUMUS, an
old Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his
hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother
to POSTHUMUS, with music before them. Then,
after other music, follow the two young LEO-
NATI, Brothers to POSTHUMUS, with Wounds,
as they died in the Wars. They circle POSTHU-
MUS round, as he lies sleeping.

Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show
Thy spite on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
That thy adulteries

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?

I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd
Attending Nature's law.

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Whose father then (as men report,

Thou orphans' father art,)

793

Thou should'st have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes;
That from me was Posthúmus ript,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,
A thing of pity!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
That he deserv'd the praise o'the world,
Moulded the stuff so fair,
As great Sicilius' heir.

1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,
In Britain where was he

That could stand up his parallel;

Or fruitful object be

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage wherefore was he
To be exil'd and thrown

From Leonati' seat, and cast

From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?

Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,
To taint his nobler heart and brain
Slight thing of Italy,
And to become the geck and scorn
With needless jealousy ;
O' the other's villany?

[mock'd,

2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, Our parents, and us twain,

That, striking in our country's cause,

Fell bravely, and were slain;
Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,

With honour to maintain.

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,,

Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
The graces for his merits due;

Being all to dolours turn'd?

Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out;
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh
No longer exercise,

And potent injuries:

Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.

Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help!
Or we poor ghosts will cry

To the shining synod of the rest,

Against thy deity.

2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.

JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sit-
ting upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt.
The Ghosts fall on their knees.

low,

Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region
[ghosts,
Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;

No care of yours it is, you know, 'tis ours.
Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married.--Rise, and
He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
[fade!-

* The fool

And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein

what's past, is, and to come, the discharge:Your neck, Sir, is pen, book, and counters so the acquittance follows.

Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art ts

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine;
And so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-live.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
[Ascends.

Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial

breath

Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal
bird

Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.

All. Thanks, Jupiter!

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is en-
ter'd

His radiant roof:-Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish.
Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a
grandsire, and begot

A father to me: and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers: But (O scorn!)
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were
born.

[pend
And so I am awake.-Poor wretches that de-
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done;
Wake, and find nothing.-But, alas, I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,
That have this golden chance, and know not
why.

What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O,
rare one!

Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

Jail. Indeed, Sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think, he would change places with his officer: for, look you, Sir, you know not which way you shall go.

Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow.

Jail. Your death has eyes in's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or take upon yourself that, which i an sure you do not know; or jump* the after-inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'l never return to tell one.

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them.

Juil. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.

Enter a Mr.SSENGER.

Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

Post. Thou bringest good news;-I am called to be made free.

Jail. I'll be hang'd then.

Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer; no bolts for the dead.

[Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER. Jail. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier

Reads. When as a lion's whelp shall, to him-knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: self unknown, without seeking find, and be emand there be some of them too, that die against braced by a piece of tender air; and when from their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, we were all of one mind, and one mind good. being dead many years, shall after revive, beO, there were desolation of jailers, and galjointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then lowses! I speak against my present profit; shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be but my wish hath a preferment in't. [Exeunt. fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. "Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which' I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

Re-enter JAILERS.

Jail. Come, Sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. Jail. Hanging is the word, Sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.

Jail. A heavy reckoning for you, Sir: But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty: the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: O! of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of

SCENE V.-CYMBELINE'S Tent.
Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS,
ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and
Attendants.

Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods

have made

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart,
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought,
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked
breast

Stepp'd before target of proof, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.

Bel. I never saw

Such noble fury in so poor a thing; [nough
Such precious deeds in one that promis d
But beggary and poor looks.

Cym. No tidings of him?

Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead But no trace of him. and living,

Cym. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; which I will add To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain. By whom, I grant, she lives; "Tis now the time [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. To ask of whence you are:-report it. + Forward.

* Hazard,

Target, shield

Bel. Sir,

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Further to boast, were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest.

Cym. Bow your knees:

Arise my knights o'the battle: I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.

Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES.

There's business in these faces:-Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,

And not o'the court of Britain.

Cor. Hail, great king!

To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.

Cym. Whom worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too.-How ended she?
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life;
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd,
I will report, so please you: These her women
Can trip me, if I err: who, with wet cheeks,
Were present when she finish'd.

Cym. Pr'ythee, say.

Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only

Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty, was wite to your place; Abhorr'd your person.

Cym. She alone knew this:

And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand
to love

With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.

Cym. O most delicate fiend!

Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more? Cor. More, Sir, and worse. She did confess,

she had

For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and,
ling'ring,
[pos'd,
By inches waste you: In which time she pur-
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show: yes, and in time,
(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to
work

Her son into the adoption of the crown.
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless desperate; open'd, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, died.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women?
Lady. We did so, please your highness.
Cym. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my
heart,
[vicious,
That thought her like her seeming; it had been
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the SOOTHSAYER, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN.

Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the

loss

Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit, [slaughter That their good souls may be appeas'd with Of you their captives, which ourself have So, think of your estate. [granted;

Luc. Consider, Sir, the chance of war: the day

Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool, have
threaten'd
[gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your
highness

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him,
And spare no blood beside.
[Sir,

Cym. I have surely seen him:
His favourt is familiar to me.-

Boy, thou hast look'd thy self into my grace,
And art mine own.-I know not why, nor
wherefore,
[live:
To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master;
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta'en.

Imo. I humbly thank your highness.
Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
And yet, I know, thou wilt.

Imo. No, no: alack,

There's other work in hand; I see a thing Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself.

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on? speak,

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
Than I to your highness; who, being born your
Am something nearer.
[vassal,

Cym. 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. [ČYMBELINE 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.

Gui. But we saw him dead.
Bel. Be silent; let's see further.
Pis. It is my mistress:

* Ready, dextrou

[Avide

4 Countenance.

Since she is living, let the time run on,
To good, or bad.

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Cym. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [To IACH.] step you forth;

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood.-On, speak
to him.

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may
Of whom he had this ring.
[render
Post. What's that to him?
Aside.
Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say,
How came it yours?

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. [that Cym. How! me?

Iuch. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter

that which

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I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel: Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may grieve thee,

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: [will, I had rather thou should'st live while nature Than die ere I hear more: strive man, and speak. Jach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd 'would The mansion where!) 'twas at a feast, (O Our viands had been poison'd! or at least, Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Posthumus,

(What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature,
laming
[erva,

The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Min-
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye:-

Cym. I stand on fire:

Come to the matter.

Iach. All too soon I shall,

Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Posthumus,

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover,) took his hint; And, not dispraising whom he prais'd, (therein He was as calm as virtue) he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,

And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his descripProv'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

[tion

lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.

He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, 1, wretch!

*Sink into dejection.

Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him

Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
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
Been all the worth of his car. Away to
Britain

Post I in this design: Well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus
quench'd

Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace-
let,

(0, 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,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,—
Methinks, I see him now,-

Post. 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,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain like, I lie;'
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was she; vea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o'the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthúmus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hearPost. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,

There lie thy part.

[Striking her: she falls. Pis. O gentlemen, help, help [húmus! Mine, and your mistress:-O, my lord PostYou ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, Mine honour'd lady! [help!

Cym. Does the world go round?

Post. How come these staggers on me?

Pis. Wake, my mistress?

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to

strike me

To death with mortal joy.

Pis. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my sight;

Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow,
Breathe not where princes are.
[hence!
Cym. The tune of Imogen!
Pis. Lady,

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; 1 had it from the queen.
Cym. New matter still!

*Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue hersele

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