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Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful
page, There lie thy part.
[Striking her: she falls. Pis.
O, gentlemen, help, help
Does the world go round?
Wake, my mistress!
mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. Cym.
The tune of Imogen!
Cym. New matter still?
It poison’d me.
What's this, Cornelius? Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
This is sure, Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from
you? Think, that
you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again.
[Embracing him. Post.
Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die! Сут.
How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? Imo.
Your blessing, sir.
[Kneeling, Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame
ye not; You had a motive for't.
[To Guiderius and Arviragus. Сут.
My tears, that fall,
I am sorry for't, my lord.
gone, we know not how, nor where.
Let me end the story:
Marry, the gods forfend!
I have spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: Thou art dead. Imo.
That headless man
Bind the offender,
Stay, sir king:
[To the Guard. They were not born for bondage. Сут. .
Why, old soldier,
In that he spake too far.
We will die all three:
Your danger is
Gui. And our good is his.
Have at it then.
What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
He it is, that hath
Take him hence;
Not too hot:
Nursing of my sons? Bel. I am too blunt and saucy: Here's my
knee; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. Сут.
How! my issue? Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banishid: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment 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,