Lach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which Torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel: [thee, Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may grieve As it doth me), a nobler sir ne'er liv'd "Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach. 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: For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving, Сут. Come to the matter. lach. I stand on fire: All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus (Most like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover), took his 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, Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose. In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring, Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; Post. That's due to all the villains past, in being, That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend, That kill'd thy daughter:-villain-like, I lie; Be villany less than 'twas!-O Imogen! Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear, Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her she falls. Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help Mine, and your mistress:-O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!Mine honour'd lady! Cym. Post. How come these staggers on me? Pis. Does the world go round? Wake, my mistress! Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. Pis. How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. Pis. Lady, The tune of Imogen! The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if Imo. It poison'd me. O gods! Cor. As I would serve a rat. Cym. To temper poisons for her; still pretending Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? There was our error. Gui. My boys, 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. Till the tree die! Cym. [Embracing him. Hang there like fruit, my soul, What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? 1mo. How now, my flesh, my child? Your blessing, sir. [Kneeling. [To Gui. and Arv. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for't. Cym. Imo. I am sorry for❜t, my lord. Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely: But her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pis. Now fear from me, I'll speak troth. Upon my lady's missing, came to me My lord, Lord Cloten, With his sword drawn ; foam'd at the month, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death: By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket; which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; G Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, 1 further know not. Gui. I slew him there. Cym. Let me end the story: Marry, the gods forfend! Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; And am right glad, he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. Сут. I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: Thou art dead. That headless man Bind the offender, Stay, sir king: And take him from our presence. Bel. This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself; and hath More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage. 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. We will die all three: But I will prove, that two of us are as good |