By hers and mine adultery. He, true Knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phabus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of's Car. Away to Britaine
Poft I in this defign: well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
By your chafte 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 practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimular 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, fome marks
Of fecret on her perfon; that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit; whereupon,
Methinks, I fee him now-

Poft. Ay, fo thou do'st,

[Coming forward

Italian fiend! ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villians past, in Being,

To come- -oh, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright jufticer! 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 Pofthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter;villain-like, I lye;
That caus'd a leffer villain than myself,
A facrilegious thief, to do't. The temple
Of virtue was she, yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, fet
The dogs o'th' street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Pofthumus Leonatus, and

Be

Be villany less than 'twas!-Oh Imogen!
My Queen, my life, my wife! oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear-
Poft. Shall's have a Play of this?

Thou fcornful page, there lie thy part.

Pif. Oh, gentlemen, help,

[Striking her, he falls.

Mine, and your miftrefs Oh, my Lord Pofthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen 'till now-help, help,

Mine honour'd lady.

Cym. Does the world

go round?

Poft. How come thefe ftaggers on me?

Pif. Wake, my mistress!

Cym. If this be fo, the Gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

Pif. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O, get thee from my fight;

Thou gav'ft me poifon : dang'rous fellow, hence!
Breathe not, where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pif. Lady, the Gods throw ftones of fulphur 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 poifon'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd,
Which must approve thee honeft. If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, giv'n his mistress that confection,
Which I gave him for cordial, fhe is ferv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornélius?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem; I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would feize

The

The prefent power of life; but, in fhort time,
All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Molt like I did, for I was dead.

Bel. My boys, there was our error.

Guid. This is, fure, 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'ft thou me a dullard in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your Bleffing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

[To Guid. Arvi.

Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not,

You had a motive for't.

Cym. My tears, that fall,

Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen,

Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord.

Cym. Oh, fhe was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon

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 mifling, came to me

With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and fwore,
If I discover'd not which way she went,
It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my mafter's
Then in my pocket; which directed her

To feek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where, in a frenfy, in my mafter's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he pofts
With unchafte purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: What became of him,

I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the ftory;

I flew him there.

Cym,

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend!

I would not, thy good deeds fhould from my lips
Pluck a hard fentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Guid. I've fpoke 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 spurn the fea, Could it fo 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 forry 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 flew,

As well defcended as thyself; and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens

Had ever fcar 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 tafting of our wrath? how of defcent

As good as we ?

Arv. In that he fpake too far.

Cym. And thou fhalt die for't.

Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove, that two on's are as good

As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I muft,
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 hadft, great King, a Subject, who was call'd Belarius.

Сут,

Cym. What of him? a banish'd traitor.
Bel. He it is, that hath

Affum'd this age; indeed, a banish'd man;
I know not how, a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence,

The whole world fhall not fave him.
Bel. Not too hot:

First, pay me for the nurfing of thy fons ;
And let it be confifcate all, fo foon
As I've receiv'd it.

Cym. Nurfing of my fons ?

Bel. I am too blunt, and faucy; here's my Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons,

Then spare not the old father. Mighty Sir,

knee:

Thefe two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my fons, are none of mine;
They are the iffue of your loins, my Liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym. How? my iffue?

Bel. So fure as you, your father's: I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you fometime banish'd;
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment
Itfelf, and all my treafon: That I fuffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle Princes
(For fuch and fo they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up; fuch arts they have, as I
Could put into them. Sir, my breeding was,
As your Grace knows. Their nurfe Euriphile,

Whom for the theft I wedded, ftole thefe 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 treafon. Their dear lofs,
'The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of ftealing them. But, Sir,
Here are your fons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'ft 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.

Cym.