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.

Poft. How, how, another!

You gentle Gods, give me but this I have,
And fear up my embracements from a next

With bonds of death.

Remain, remain thou here,

[Putting on the ring.

While fenfe can keep thee on! and Sweeteft, Faireft,

As I my poor felf did exchange for you,

To your fo infinite lofs; fo, in our trifles

I ftill win of you.

For my fake, wear this;

It is a manacle of love, I'll place it

Upon this faireft pris'ner.
Imo. O, the Gods!

[Putting a bracelet on her arm.

When fhall we fee again?

SCENE

III.

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

Post. A LACK, the King Thir

Cym. Thou basfest Thing, avoid; hence, from my fight:

If, after this Command, thou fraught the Court
With thy unworthinefs, thou dy'ft. Away!

Thou'rt poifon to my blood.

Poft. The Gods protect you,

And blefs the good remainders of the Court!

I'm gone.

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this is.

Cym. O difloyal thing,

That fhould't repair my youth, thou heap'ft

A yare age on me.

[Exit.

Imo. I beseech you, Sir,

Harm not yourself with your Vexation;
I'm fenfelefs of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym. Paft grace? obedience?

Imo. Paft hope, and in defpair; that way, paft grace,

Cym. Thou might'ft have had the fole fon of my Queen.

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

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'ft have made my Throne

A Seat for Bafeness.

Imo. No, I rather added

A luftre to it.

Cym. O thou vile one!

Imo. Sir,

It is your fault, that I have lov'd Pofthumus :
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; over-buys me
Almoft the fum he pays.

Cym. What! -art thou mad?

Imo. Almoft, Sir; heav'n reftore me! 'would I

were

A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus

Our neighbour-fhepherd's fon!

Enter Queen.

Cym. Thou foolish Thing;

They were again together, you have done

[To the Queen.

Not after our Command. Away with her,

And pen her up.

Queen. Befeech you patience; peace,

Dear lady daughter, peace. Sweet Sovereign,

Leave us t'ourselves, and make yourself fome.comfort

Out of your beft advice.

Cym.

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

Die of this folly.

Enter Pifanio.

Queen. Fie, you must give way:

[Exit.

Here is your fervant. How now, Sir? what news?

Pif. My lord your fon drew on my mafter.
Queen. Hah!

No harm, I truft, is done?

Pif. There might have been,

a

But that my master rather play'd, than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.

Queen. I'm very glad on't.

1. Imo. Your fon'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 mafter?
Pif. On his command; he would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven: left these notes
Of what commands I fhould be subject to,
When't pleas'd you to employ me.

Queen. This hath been

Your faithful fervant: I dare lay mine honour,
He will remain fo.

Pif. I humbly thank your Highness.

Queen. Pray, walk a while.

Imo. About fome half hour hence, pray you, fpeak

with me;

You shall, at leaft, go fee my Lord aboard.

From this time leave me.

1 Lord.

[Exeunt.

IR, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek

as a facrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in : there's none abroad so wholesome as That you vent. Clot. If my fhirt were bloody, then to shift itHave I hurt him?

2 Lord. No, faith: Not fo much as his patience. [Afide. 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a paffable carcass, if he be not hurt. It is a thorough-fare for fteel, if

it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His fteel was in debt, it went o' th' backfide the town.

Clot. The villain would not ftand me. o

Afide.

2 Lord. No, but he fled forward ftill, towards your

face.

[Afide. 1 Lord. Stand you? you have land enough of your own; but he added to your Having, gave you fome ground.

pies!

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans, pupAfide. Clot. I would, they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, 'till you had meafur'd how long a fool you were upon the ground. o Clot. And that fhe fhould love this fellow, and refufe me!

Afide.

2 Lord. If it be a fin to make a true election, she's damn'd.

[Afide.. 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She's a good Shine, but I have feen fmall reflexion of her wit.

2 Lord. She fhines not upon fools, left the reflexion fhould hurt her.

[Afide. Clot. Come, I'll to my chamber: 'would, there had been fome hurt done!

Lord. I wifh not fo; unless it had been the fall

of an ass, which is no great hurt. Clot. You'll go with us?

• Lord. I'll attend your Lordship.: Clot. Nay, come, let's go together. 2 Lord. Well, my Lord.`

[Afide.

[Exeunt.

Imogen's Apartment.

Enter Imogen, and Pifanio.

Would, thou grew'ft unto the fhores o'th' ha

ven,

And queftion'd't every fail: if he fhould write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper loft

As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
That he fpake with thee?

Pif. 'Twas, His Queen, his Queen!
Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief?
Pif. And kifs'd it, Madam.

Imo. Senfelefs linen, happier therein than I!
And that was all?

Pif. No, Madam; for fo long

As he could make me with this eye, or ear,
Diftinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and ftirs of's mind
Could beft express how flow his foul fail'd on,
How fwift his fhip.

Imo. Thou should't have made him

As little as a crow, or lefs, ere left

To after-eye him.

Pif. Madam, fo I did.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye ftrings; crackt 'em, but

To look upon him; 'till the diminution

Of's fpace had pointed him fharp as my needle;
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

The fmallness of a gnat, to air; and then

Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.-But, good Pifanio, When fhall we hear from him?

Pif. Be affur'd, Madam,

With his next vantage.

05

Imo.