Queen.

Re-enter Queen.

Be brief, I pray you:

If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure.-Yet I'll move him

To walk this way. I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.1

Post.

[Aside.

[Exit.

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.

2

How! how! another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death!-Remain, remain thou here

3

[Putting on the ring. 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

While sense can keep it on!

Upon this fairest prisoner.

Imo.

[Putting a bracelet on her arm. O the gods!

When shall we see again?

1 "He gives me a valuable consideration in new kindness (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done him), in order to renew our amity, and make us friends again."

2 Shakspeare poetically calls the cere-cloths, in which the dead are wrapped, the bonds of death. There was no distinction in ancient orthography between seare, to dry, to wither; and seare, to dress or cover with wax. Cere-cloth is most frequently spelled seare-cloth. 3 i. e. while I have sensation to retain it.

Post.

Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.

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!

[Exit.

And bless the good remainders of the court!

I beseech you, sir,

Harm not yourself with your vexation: I

Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare 3
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym.
Past grace? obedience?
Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my

queen!

Imo. O blessed, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.*

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

A seat for baseness.

Imo.

A lustre to it.

Cym.

No; I rather added

O thou vile one!

1 i. e. renovate my youth, make me young again. "To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the first state, to renew."

2 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads:

thou heapest many

A year's age on me!"

Some such emendation seems necessary.

3 "A touch more rare" is "a more exquisite feeling."

4 A puttock is a mean, degenerate species of hawk, too worthless to deserve training.

It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus.
You bred him as my playfellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.1

Cym.

What!-art thou mad?

Imo. Almost, sir; Heaven restore me!-'Would

I were

A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus

Our neighbor shepherd's son!

Cym.

They were again together; you have done

Re-enter Queen.

Thou foolish thing!

[To the Queen.

'Beseech your patience ;—peace,

Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.

Queen.

Dear lady daughter, peace. Sweet sovereign,

Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.2

Cym.

Nay, let her languish

[Exit.

A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,

Die of this folly!

Queen.

Enter PISANIO.

Fie!-you must give way;

Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news? Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.

Ha!

There might have been,

played than fought,
They were parted

1 "My worth is not half equal to his."
2 Advice is consideration, reflection.

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
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When it pleased you to employ me.

Queen.
This hath been
Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honor,
He will remain so.

I

Pis.

I humbly thank your highness.

Queen. Pray, walk a while.

Imo.

About some half hour hence,

pray you, speak with me; you shall, at least, Go see my lord aboard. For this time, leave me.

[Exeunt.

Enter CLOTEN and two Lords.

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reck as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it-Have I hurt him?

2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience.

[Aside

1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt; it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town. [Aside.

Clo. The villain would not stand me.

2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

[Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

[Aside.

Clo. I would they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.

[Aside. Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.

1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her her brain go not together. She's a good have seen small reflection of her wit.1 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest tion should hurt her.

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber.

been some hurt done!

[Aside. beauty and sign, but I

the reflec[Aside.

'Would

there had

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall

Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO.

Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,

And question'dst every sail; if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost

1 "Her beauty and her sense are not equal." To understand the force of this idea, it should be remembered, that anciently almost every sign had a motto, or some attempt at a witticism underneath.