Cor.

Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report The queen is dead.

Cym. Whom worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider, By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too. -How ended she?

Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd I will report, so please you: These her women Can trip me, if I err; who, with wet cheeks, Were present when she finish'd.

Cym.

Prithee, say. Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you: only

Affected greatness got by you, not you;
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person.
Cym

She alone knew this:

TRAGEDIES.-VOL I. B

For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, lingʼring,
By inches waste you: In which time she purpos'd,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show: yes, and in time,
When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
Her son into the adoption of the crown:
But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected: so,
Despairing, died.

Cym.
Heard you all this, her women ?
Lady. We did, so please your highness.
Cym.
Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming: it had been

Augustus lives to think on 't: and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join

With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him, sir, And spare no blood beside.

Cym.

I have surely seen him :
His favour is familiar to me.
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own.-I know not why, nor
wherefore,

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.

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so ? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? Aro. One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele :-What think you?

Since she is living, let the time run on
To good, or bad.

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Cym. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [to LACH.] step you forth;

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood-On, speak to
him.

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may

render Of whom he had this ring. Post.

What's that to him? [Aside.

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours?

Iach. Thou 'lt torture me to leave unspoken

that

How! me?

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym
Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring; 't was Leonatus' jewei
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more, may
grieve thee

As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd

'T wixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? Cym. All that belongs to this. lach.

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 should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd The mansion where !) 't was at a feast, (O 'would Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Pos

thumus,

(What should I say? he was too good, to be

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover) took this hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue,) he began

His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,

And then a mind put in 't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym.
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
Iach. Your daughter's chastity-there it
begins.

He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with

him

Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of 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 Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice 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 ber bracelet,
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks

Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do 't :-the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 't was !-O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo.
Peace, my lord; hear, hear!--
Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thon
scornful page,

There lie thy part.

Pis.

:

[Striking her she falls. O, gentlemen, help

Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthu

Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd

As I would serve a rat.

Cym.

What's this, Cornclius ?
Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction 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 cease
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. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel.

My boys,

from you?

They were not born for bondage.

[To the guard.

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 ?

Arv. In that he spake too far. Cym. And thou shalt die for 't. Bel. We will die all three: But I will prove, that two of us are as good As I have given out him.-My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you.

Aro.

Gui. And our good his.

Bel.

Your danger's ours.

Have at it then.

How my issue? Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,

Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punish

ment

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: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness 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 't was felt, the more it shap'd

Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,

Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world:
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children;
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd awhile.— This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce.

This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
It was wise Nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym.

O, what, am I

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Bless'd pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!-O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo.

No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by it.-O my gentle brothers,

Have we thus met? O never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.
Cym.

Arv. Ay, my good lord.

Did you e'er meet?

Gui. And at first meeting lov'd; Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in.-Where, how liv'd you,

And when came you to serve our Roman captive ? How parted with your brothers ? how first met them ?

Why fled you from the court? and whither ? These,

And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be do

manded;

And all the other by-dependencies, From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,

See,

Will serve our long intergatories.
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
Thou art my brother: So we'll hold thee ever.
[TO BELARIUS.

Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season.

Cym.
All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,

For they shall taste our comfort.