(Oh, cunning! how I got it), nay, fome marks Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft, [Coming forward. Italian fiend! ah me, most credulous fool, To come--oh, give me cord, or knife, or poifon, That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend, Be villany lefs than 'twas!—Oh Imogen! Imo. Peace, my Lord, hear, hear Poft. Shall's have a play of this! Thou fcornful page, there lie thy part. Pif. Oh, Gentlemen, help, [Striking her, he falls. Mine, and your mistress- Oh, my Lord Pofthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now--—————— -help, help, Mine honour'd Lady Cym. Does the world do round? Poft. How come thefe ftaggers on me? Pif. Wake, my miftrefs! Cym. If this be fo, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. Pif. How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my fight: Thou gav'ft me poison: dang'rous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are, Cym. The tune of Imogen ! Pif. Lady, the gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, If what I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the Queen. Imo. It poifon'd me. Gor. Oh gods! I left out one thing which the Queen, confefs'd, Gym. What's this, Cornelius ? Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me. Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it ? Bel. My boys, there was our error. Guid. This is, fure, Fidele. 1 Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? [To Pofthumus, Think, that you are upon a mock*, and now Throw me again. [Throwing her arms about his neck. Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, Till the tree die ! Cym. How now, my flesh? my child ? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ? Wilt thou not speak to me? Imo. Your bleffing, Sir. [Kneeling. [To Guid. Arvir.. Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not You had a motive for't. Cym. My tears that fall, Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord. i. a farce, a stage-play. Gym. Oh, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely; but her fon Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pif My Lord, Now fear is from me, I'll fpeak truth. Lord Cloten, With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore, Guid Let me end the story; I flew him there. Cym. Marry, the gods forefend ! I would not thy good deeds fhould from my lips Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs he did me, Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me fpurn the fea, Could it fo roar to me. I cut off's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. Cym. I'm forry for thee; By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and muft Imo. That headless man I thought had been my Lord. Gym. Bind the offender, And take him from our prefence, Bel. Stay, Sir King, This man is better than the man he flew, i Had ever fear for. -Let his arms alone; [To the Guard.. They were not born for bondage. Gym. Why, old foldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By hafting of our wrath? how of defcent As good as we ? Arv. In that he spake too far. Bel. We will die all three ; But I will prove, that two on's are as good As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I must For my own part, unfold a dangerous fpeech, Though happly well for you. Arv. Your danger's ours. Guid. And our good, his. Bel. Have at it then, by leave. Friuse Thou hadft, great King, a fubject who was call'd Bela- Cym. What of him? a banish'd traitor. Bel. He it is that hath Affum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man, I know not how a traitor. Cym. Take him hence, The whole world fhall not fave him. Bel. Not too hot, First, pay me for the nurfing of thy fons; And let it be confifcate all, fo foon As I've receiv'd it. Cym. Nurfing of my fons?" Bel I am too blunt, and faucy; here's my knee.. Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons, Then fpare not the old father Mighty Sir, Thefe two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my fons, are none of mine; And blood of your begetting. Cym How? my iffue? Bel. So fure, as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you fometime banifh'd. Your pleafure was my near offence, my punishment Itfelf, and all my treaion. Was all the harm I did. That I fufler'd, (For fuch and fo they are) thefe twenty years For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it fhap'd Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy Cym. Thou weep'ft, and fpeak' ft. The fervice that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'ft. I lost my childrenIf these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. Bel. Be pleas'd a while This Gentleman, whom I call Paladour, Cym. Guiderius had Upon his a neck a mole, a fanguine ftar; It was a mark of wonder. Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him ftill that nat❜ral stamp, Cym. Oh, what am I ? A mother to the birth of three! ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more; blefs'd may you be, That, after this ftrange ftarting from your orbs,., You may reign in them now! Oh Imogen, Thou'lt loft by this a kingdom. |