SCENE V. Cymbeline's Tent. Enter CYMBELIne, Belarius, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart, That the poor soldier, that so richly fought, Our grace can make him so. Bel. I never saw Such precious deeds in one that promised nought Cym. No tidings of him? Pis. He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him. Cym. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; which I will add [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. By whom, I grant, she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are;-report it. Bel. Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Cym. Bow your knees. Arise, my knights o' the battle; I create you 1 In the scene before us, all the surviving characters are assembled ; and at the expense of whatever incongruity the former events may have been produced, perhaps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend the most scrupulous advocate for regularity; and as little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catastrophe which is intricate without confusion, and not more rich in ornament than nature." Companions to our person, and will fit you Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies. There's business in these faces.-Why so sadly Cor. Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report Cym. Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; Cym. Pr'ythee, say. Cor. First, she confessed she never loved you; only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place; Abhorred your person. Cym. She alone knew this; And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. Сут. O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more? Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she had 1 "To bear in hand" is "falsely pretended." For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, Cym. Heard you all this, her women? Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine eyes Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter! And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN. Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that So, think of your estate. The day Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war. We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth, A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. So feat,1 so nurselike. Let his virtue join With my request, which, I'll make bold, your highness Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, Сут. 2 His favor is familiar to me. I have surely seen him; Boy, thou hast looked thyself into my grace, And art mine own.-I know not why, nor wherefore, Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it; The noblest ta'en. Imo. I humbly thank your highness. Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet, I know thou wilt. Imo. There's other work in hand. No, no; alack, I see a thing Bitter to me as death; your life, good master, Luc. The boy disdains me ; He leaves me, scorns me; briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplexed? Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? 1 Feat is ready, dexterous. 2 Countenance. 3 "I know not what should induce me to say, Live, boy." The word nor was inserted by Rowe. Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. Cym. And lend my best attention. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy revived from death? One sand another Arv. Who died, and was Fidele.-What think you? Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike. He would have spoke to us. Gui. Were't he, I am sure But we saw him dead. It is my mistress; [Aside. Bel. Be silent; let's see further. Since she is living, let the time run on, To good, or bad. Cym. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [To IACH.] step you forth; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; Winnow the truth from falsehood.-On, speak to him. Post. What's that to him? Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours? [Aside. |