CYMBELINE. ACT I. SCENE I.—Britain. The Garden of CYMBELINE's Palace. Enter Two Gentlemen. FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns : our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the king.1 Second Gent. But what's the matter? First Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom He purpos'd 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; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart. Second Gent. None but the king? First Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match: but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. Second Gent. And why so? B First Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her Endows a man but he. Second Gent. You speak him far. First Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. Second Gent. What's his name and birth? First Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: his father Was call'd Sicilius, who did gain his honour, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father To his protection; calls him Posthumus Leonatus ; A child that guided dotards: to his mistress- What kind of man he is. Second Gent. I honour him But, pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king? First Gent. His only child. He had two sons-if this be worth your hearing, I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery Second Gent. How long is this ago? First Gent. Some twenty years. Second Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd ! So slackly guarded! and the search so slow, That could not trace them! First Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, First Gent. We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, The queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Same. Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended king, Post. I will from hence to-day. Queen. you. Please your highness, You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying [Exit. Imo. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant His rage can do on me: you must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes; not comforted to live, Post. To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Re-enter QUEEN. 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 [Aside. |