The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Imo. O [Exit Queen. 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 gone; His Post. My queen! my mistress ! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you: you send, If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure:-Yet I'll move him [Aside. To walk this way: I never do him wrong, [Exit. Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; Post. How! how! another! You gentle gods, give me but this I have, [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. Imo. O, the gods! [Putting a bracelet on her arm. When shall we see again? Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away! Thou art poison to my blood. Post. The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death Cym. O disloyal thing, That should'st repair my youth; thou heapest A year's age on me! Imo. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation; I Cym. Past grace? obedience? [Exit. Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my queen! Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. No: I rather added A lustre to it. Cym. O thou vile one! Imo. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus; Cym. What!-art thou mad? Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!-'Would I were A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son ! Re-enter Queen. Cym. Thou foolish thing!— They were again together: you have done [To the Queen. Not after our command. Away with her, Queen. 'Beseech your patience :--Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace;-Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some com fort Out of your best advice. Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a-day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! Enter PISANIO. Queen. Fye!-you must give way: Here is [Exit. your servant.-How now, sir? What news? Pis. My lord, your son, drew on my master. Queen. Ha! No harm, I trust, is done? Pis. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger: they were parted Queen. I am very glad on't. Imo. 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; The goer back.-Why came you from your master? Queen. This hath been Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour, Pis. I humbly thank your highness. Queen. Pray, walk a while. Imo. About some half hour hence, I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least, SCENE III-A public Place. Enter CLOTEN, and two Lords. [Exeunt. 1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice : Where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it-Have I hurt him? 2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. [Aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt. 2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o'the backside the town. [Aside. |