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 minister'd; 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 the more mature,
A glass that feated them; 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.

2 Gent.

Even out of your report.

I honour him,

But, pray you,

tell me,

His only child.

Is she sole child to the king?

1 Gent. 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.

2 Gent.

How long is this ago?

1 Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so convey'd,

So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,

That could not trace them!

1 Gent.

Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,

Yet is it true, sir.

2 Gent.

I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We must forbear. Here comes the gentleman, the queen, and princess.

[Exeunt.

3 A glass that FEATED them ;] Possibly "feated," as Mr. Barry thinks, is a misprint for featur'd; but "feated" may be easily understood as made them "feat," i. e. according to Minsheu, fine, neat, brave.

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,

Posthumus,

Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your jailer shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you,
So soon as I can win th' 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.

Post.

I will from hence to-day.

Queen.

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 Queen.

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.

Queen.

Re-enter 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.

Post.

[Exit.

Should we be taking leave

As long a term as yet we have to live,

The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
Imo. 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.

Post.

How! how! another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

And sear 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

Cym. 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.

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 am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym.
Past grace? obedience?
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

4 And did avoid a PUTTOCK.] "A puttock" is a hawk of a degenerate and worthless breed.

A lustre to it.

Cym. Imo.

O thou vile one!

Sir,

It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus.
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

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!

Cym.

Re-enter QUEEN.

Thou foolish thing!

[To the QUEEN.

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.

Cym.

Nay, let her languish

[Exit.

A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,

Die of this folly!

Enter PISANIO.

Queen.

Fie!-you must give way:

What news?

Ha!

Here is your servant.-How now, sir!

Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.

Queen.

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

VOL. VIII.

L