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By hers and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No lefser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring ;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phæbus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of's Car. Away to Britaine
Poft I in this design: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
By your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous, and villainous. Being thus quench'd
Of Hope, not Longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britaine operate
Most vilely: for my vantage excellent;
And, to be brief, my pračtice 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 bracelet;
(Oh, 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
Poft. Ay, so thou do'st,
Italian fiend ! ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villians- paft, in Being,
-oh, give me ord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out
For torturers ingenious ; it is I
That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter ;
-villain-like, I lye ;
That caus’d a lesser villain than myself,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was she, yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, caft mire upon me, set
The dogs o'th' ftreet to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Pofthumus Leonatus, and
Be villany less than 'twas !-Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife ! oh Imogen,
Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear-
Poft. Shall's have a Play of this ?
Thou scornful page, there lie thy part.
(Striking her, she falls. Pis. Oh, gentlemen, help, Mine, and your mistress-oh, my Lord Pofthumus ! You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now-help, help, Mine honour'd ladyCym. Does the world
round? Poft. How come these staggers on me? Pis. Wake, mý
Cym. If this be so, the Gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
Pif. How fares my mistress ?
Imo. O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav'ft me poison : đangʻrous fellow, hence !
Breathe not, where Princes are.
Cym. The tune of Imogen!
Pif. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulphur on me,
If what I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing : I had it from the Queen.
Cym. New matter ftill?
Imo. It poison'd me.
Cor. Oh Gods !
I left out one thing which the Queen confess’d,
Which must approve thee honest. If Pifanio
Have, faid she, giv'n his mistress that confection,
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.
Cym. What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poilons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats
Of no esteem ; I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would seize
The present power of life ; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?
Imo, Moit like I did, for I was dead.
Bel. My boys, there was our error.
Guid. This is, sure, Fidele.
Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think, that you are upon a rock, and now
Throw me again.
Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die!
Cym. How now, my flesh ? my child ?
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo. Your Blessing, Sir.
[Kneeling. Bel. Tho’you did love this youth, I blame you not, You had a motive for’t.
[To Guid. Arvi. Cym. My tears, that fall, Prove holy-water on thee ! Imogen, Thy mother's dead.
Imo. I'm sorry for't, my Lord.
Cym. Oh, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where,
Pif, My Lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and fwore, If I discover'd not which way she went, It was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket; which directed her To seek him on the mountains near to Milford : Where, in a frensy, in my matter's garments, Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady's honour: What became of him, I further know not.
Guid. Let me end the story; I New him there.
Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend !
I would not, thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence : prythee, valiant youth,
Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it.
Cym. He was a Prince.
Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs, he did me,
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me fpurn the sea,
Could it so roar to me. I cut off's head ;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.
Cym. I'm sorry for thee;
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law : thou'rt dead.
Imo. That headless man
I thought had been my Lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Bel. Stay, Sir King,
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.--Let his arms alone ; [To the Guard.
They were not born for bondage.
Cym. Why, old Soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? how of descent
As good as we?
Ārv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die fort.
Bel. We will die all three,
I will prove, that two on's are as good
As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I must,
For my own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.
Arv. Your danger's ours.
Guid. And our good, his.
Bel. Have at it then, by leave : *
Thou hadít, great King, a subject, who was call'd Belariús.
Cym. What of him ? a banish'd traitor.
Bel. He it is, that hath
Assum'd this age; indeed, a banish'd man ;
I know not how, a traitor,
Cym. Take him hence,
The whole world shall not save him.
Bel. Not too hot:
First, pay me for the nursing of thy fons ;
And let it be confiscate all, lo soon
As I've receiv'd it.
Cym. Nursing of my fons ?
Bel. I am too blunt, and faucy; here's my
Ere I arise, I will prefer my fons,
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.
Bel. So sure as you, your father's : I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd ;
Your pleasure was my near 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; such arts they have, as I
Could put into them. Sir, my breeding was,
As your Grace 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, Sir,
Here are your fons again ; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heav'ns
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To in-lay heav'n with stars.