CYMBELINE. PERSONS REPRESENTED. CYMBELINE, King of Britain. Posthumus, Italians. A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, Friend CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the A ROMAN CAPTAIN. QUEEN, Wife to Cymbeline. LORDS, LADIES, Roman SENA- SCENE.-Sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy. ACT 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 heavens, than our courtiers; Still seem, as does the king's. * 2 Gent. But what's the matter? Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom He purposed 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; Is outward sorrow; though I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart. 2 Gent. None but the king? 1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desired the match: But not a courtier, This difficult passage should, I think, be construed thus: our counte. Dances, regulated by the blood, do not obey natural impulses, but, as cour tiers, imitate that of the king. 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 2 Gent. You speak him far.* 1 Gent. I do extend him, Sir, within himself; E BURRELATI Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly.t 2 Gent. What's his name and birth? 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father ANDAMIOAN Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, Against the Romans, with Cassibelan; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, 1 Gent. His only child. He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing, * Praise him extensively. The father of Cymbeline. † My praise is within his merit. § I. e. a model that formed their manners. As to. Mark it), the eldest of them at three years old, I' the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'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. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the gentleman, The queen and princess. SCENE II.-The same. Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. [Exeunt. Queen. No, be assured, you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, Evil-eyed unto you: you are my prisoner, but That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, 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 Post. Please your highness, 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 Imo. O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant [Exit QUEEN. Can tickle where she wounds!-My dearest husband, His rage can do on me: You must be gone; Post. My queen! my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Re-enter QUEEN. Queen. Be brief, I pray you: How much of his displeasure:-Yet I'll move him If the king come, I shall incur I know not To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; [Aside. [Exit. Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; When Imogen is dead. Post. How! how! another F You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death!-Remain thou here [Putting on the ring. While sense 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 Imo. O, the gods! When shall we see again? [Putting a bracelet on her arm. Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS. Post. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid hence, from my sight! If, after this command, thou fraught* the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away! Thou art poison to my blood. Post. The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. Cym. O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth; thou heapest A year's age on me! Imo. I beseech you, Sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more raret Subdues all pangs, all fears. Cym. Past grace? obedience? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. [Exit. Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! And did avoid a puttock.* Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. No; I rather added A lustre to it. Cym. O thou vile one! Imo. Sir, It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: Cym. What!-art thou mad? Imo. Almost, Sir: Heaven restore me!-'Would I were A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son! Re-enter QUEEN. Cym. Thou foolish thing! They were again together: you have aone way [To the QUEEN. Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. Queen. 'Beseech your patience:-Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace;-Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice.t Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! Enter PISANIO. Queen. Fie!-you must give way: Here is your servant.-How now, Sir? What news? Pis. My lord your son drew on my master. Queen. Ha! No harm, I trust, is done? Pis. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand. Queen. I am very glad on't. Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part. To draw upon an exile!-O brave Sir! I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer back.-Why came you from your master? Pis. On his command: He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven: left these notes Queen. This hath been [Exit. |