Cymbeline | Page 4

should be so convey'd,?So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,?That could not trace them!
FIRST GENTLEMAN.?Howsoe'er 'tis strange,?Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,?Yet is it true, sir.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.?I do well believe you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.?We must forbear; here comes the gentleman,?The Queen, and Princess.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN.]
QUEEN.?No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter,?After the slander of most stepmothers,?Evil-ey'd unto you. You're 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 you.
POSTHUMUS.?Please your Highness,?I will from hence to-day.
QUEEN.?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.]
IMOGEN.?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.
POSTHUMUS.?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.
[Aside.]
Yet I'll move him?To walk this way. I never do him wrong?But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;?Pays dear for my offences.
[Exit.]
POSTHUMUS.?Should we be taking leave?As long a term as yet we have to live,?The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
IMOGEN.?Nay, stay a little.?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.
POSTHUMUS.?How, how! another??You gentle gods, give me but this I have,?And cere up my embracements from a next?With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here
[Putting on the ring.]
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,?As I my poor self did exchange for you,?To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles?I still win of you; for my sake wear this.?It is a manacle of love; I'll place it?Upon this fairest prisoner.
[Putting a bracelet upon her arm.]
IMOGEN.?O the gods!?When shall we see again?
[Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS.]
POSTHUMUS.?Alack, the King!
CYMBELINE.?Thou basest thing, avoid! Hence, from my sight!?If after this command thou fraught the court?With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!?Thou'rt poison to my blood.
POSTHUMUS.?The gods protect you!?And bless the good remainders of the court!?I am gone.
[Exit.]
IMOGEN.?There cannot be a pinch in death?More sharp than this is.
CYMBELINE.?O disloyal thing,?That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st?A year's age on me!
IMOGEN.?I beseech you, sir,?Harm not yourself with your vexation.?I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare?Subdues all pangs, all fears.
CYMBELINE.?Past grace? obedience?
IMOGEN.?Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
CYMBELINE.?That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!
IMOGEN.?O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,?And did avoid a puttock.
CYMBELINE.?Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne?A seat for baseness.
IMOGEN.?No; I rather added?A lustre to it.
CYMBELINE.?O thou vile one!
IMOGEN.?Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus.?You bred him as my playfellow, and he is?A man worth any woman; overbuys me?Almost the sum he pays.
CYMBELINE.?What, art thou mad?
IMOGEN.?Almost, sir; heaven restore me! Would I were?A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus?Our neighbour shepherd's son!
[Re-enter QUEEN.]
CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing!?--They were again together; you have done?Not after our command. Away with her,?And pen her up.
QUEEN.?Beseech your patience. Peace,?Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,?Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort?Out of your best advice.
CYMBELINE.?Nay, let her languish?A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,?Die of this folly!
[Exeunt CYMBELINE and LORDS.]
[Enter PISANIO.]
QUEEN.?Fie! you must give way.?Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?
PISANIO.?My lord your son drew on my master.
QUEEN.?Ha! No harm, I trust, is done?
PISANIO.?There might have been,?But that my master rather play'd than fought?And had no help of anger. They were parted?By gentlemen at hand.
QUEEN.?I am very glad on't.
IMOGEN.?Your son'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 master?
PISANIO.?On his command. He would not suffer me?To bring him to the haven; left these notes?Of what commands I should be subject to,?When't pleas'd you to employ me.
QUEEN.?This hath been?Your faithful servant.