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Cym. No tidings of him?
Pisanio. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him.
Cym. To my grief, I am
[To Belaiuus, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Cym. Bow your knees:
[Drums and Trumpets.
Enter Two Lords; Iachimo, Caius Lucius, ImoGen, Roman Prisoners, in Chains; and PosthuMus behind, guarded by British Soldiers.
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war; the day
threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But, since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I.will entreat; my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent:
He hath done no Briton harm,
Though he hath serv'd a Roman: Save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
Cym. I have surely seen him;
His favour is familiar to me.
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
Imog. He is a Roman; no more kin to me,
vassal, Am something nearer.
Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
Imog. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
Cym. Ay, with all my heart: Walk with me; speak freely.
[cymbeline and Imogen walk aside.
Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Arv. One sand another
Guid. The same dead thing alive.
Bel. Peace, peace! see further.
Pisanio. [Aside.] It is my mistress: Since she is living, let the time run on, To good, or bad.
Cymbeline and Imogen- come forward.
Cyrn. Come, stand thou by our side;
Imog. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.
Post. [Aside.] What's that to him?
Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?
Iach. Thoul't torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
Cym. How! me?
Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which Torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus'jewel, Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may
grieve thee, As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd Twixt sky and ground. Will you hear more, my lord?
Cym. All that belongs to this.
Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,— tor whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember,—Give me leave; I faint.
Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more.
Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (Oh, 'would Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to head !) the good Posthumus— Cym. Come to the matter.
Iach. Your daughter's chastity—there it begins.—
Post I in this design: well may you, sir,
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
Methinks, I see him now,
Post. Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend !—Ah me, most credulous fool,
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Imog. Peace, my lord; hear, hear
Post. Thou scornful page, there is no peace for me. [Striking her; she falls.
Pisanio. Oh, gentlemen, help, help Mine, and your mistress:—Oh, my Lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now :—Help! help !— Mine honour'd lady!
Post. How come these staggers on me ?
Pisanio. Wake, my mistress!
Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.
Imog. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock; and now, Throw me again. [Runs into his Arms.
Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!
Cym. My child! my child! my dearest Imogen!
Imog. Your blessing, sir. [Kneeling.
Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame you not; You had a motive for't.
[To Guiderius and Arviragus.
Cym. Imogen, Thy mother's dead.
Imog I am sorry for't, my lord.
Cym.^ Oh, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely: but her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
[pisanio and Imogen retire .with Posthumus; the Guards take off his chains.