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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
(I mean, that married her—alack, good man!—
And therefore banish'd), is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare :—I do not think
So fair an outward, and such stuff within,

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,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;
But had his titles by Tenantius, whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success :
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus :
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time,

Died with their swords in hand; for which their father
(Then old and fond of issue) took such sorrow
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe

To his protection; calls him Posthumus Leonatus ;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts to him all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas ministered;
And in his spring became a harvest: liv'd in court
(Which rare it is to do), most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature
A glass that feated them;2 and to the graver,

A child that guided dotards: to his mistress-
For whom he now is banish'd—her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue ;
By her election may be truly read

What kind of man he is.

Second Gent.
Even out of your report.

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,
Mark it-the eldest of them at three years old,

I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stolen; and to this hour no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

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,

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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,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform

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
The
pangs
of barr'd affections; though the king
Hath charg'd you should not speak together.

[Exit.

Imo. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds !-My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing
(Always reserv'd my holy duty), what

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,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Post.
My queen! my mistress!
O, lady, weep no more, lest I give cause

To be suspected of more tenderness

Than doth become a man! I will remain

The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Philario's ;

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,
Though ink be made of gall.

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.

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