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But to look back in frown: stand, stand !"--These
three2 Lord. Were there but three? Pisario, There was a fourth man, in a poor rustic
habit, That stood che front with them. These matchless
four, Accommodated by the place, gilded pale looks ; Part, shame; part, spirit renew'd ; that some, turn'd
way that they did, and to grin like lions
2 Lord. This was strange chance.-
Pisanio. Nay, do not wonder :--go with me, and
These wonders, sir, and join the general joy.
[Drums, Trumpets, c.-Exeunt.
Another Part of the Forest.
Post. To-day, how many would have given their
honours To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't, And yet died too ?-1, in mine own woe charm’d,
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan;
A Retreat sounded.
CYMBELINE, BelARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,
Pisanio, and British SOLDIERS, discovered. Cym. Stand by my side, you, whom the gods have
rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
Bel. I never saw
Cym. No tidings of him?
Cym. To my grief, I am
[To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. By whom, I grant, she lives : 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are :--report it.
Cym. Bow your knees :
[Drums and Trumpets.
Enter Two Lords; Lachimo, Caius Lucius, IMO
gen, Roman Prisoners, in Chains ; and Posthu
Mus behind, guarded by British SOLDIERS. Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute ; that Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit, That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted : So, think of your estate.
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 Our prisoners with the sword. But, since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives - May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Cym. I have surely seen him;
fore, To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master; live: 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. [Imogen looks at lachimo. Know'st him thou look'st on ? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin ? thy friend?
Imog. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, Than I to your highness; who, being born your
vassal, Am something nearer.
Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imog. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
Cym. Ay, with all my heart: Walk with me; speak freely.
(CYMBELINE and Imogen walk aside.
Guid. The same dead thing alive.
Pisanio. (Aside.] It is my mistress:
Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.
Imog. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
Post. [Aside.] What's that to him?
Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
Iach. Thou!t torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym. How ! me?
grieve thee, As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd Twixt sky and ground. Will you 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 : I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more,