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Pis. How fares my mistress ?

Imo. O get thee' from my sight,
Thou gav'ft me poison ! dang’rous fellow, hence !
Breathe not where Princes are,

Cym. The tune of Imogen!
Pis. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulphur on me,
If what I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing! I had it from the Queen,

Gym. New matter still?
Imo. It poison'd me.

Cor. Oh Gods !
I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd,
Which must approve thee honeft. If Pisanio
Have, said she, giv’n his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius ?

Cor. The Queen, Sir, very oft importun'd me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem; I dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which being ta'en would seize
The present power of life, but in short time
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.

Bel, My boys,
There was our error.

Guid. This is sure Fidele.
Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady from you?

[To Post. Think that you are upon a rock, and now

[Throwing ber arms about bis neck. Throw me again.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my soul, "Till the tree die !

Cym. How now, my flesh ? my child ? What, mak'lt thou me a dull ard in this act ?

Wilt

E e 3

Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo. Your bleffing, Sir.

[Kneeling Bel. Tho? you did love this youth, I blame you not, You had a motive for't, [To Guiderius and Arviragus.

Cym. My tears that fall
Prove holy-water on thee ! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

Imo, I'm sorry for't, my Lord.
Cym. Oh, she was nought; and long of her it was
That we meet here so ftrangely; but her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My Lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my Lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore
If I discover'd not which way she went
It was my inftant death. By accident
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket, which directed her
To seek him on the mountains near to Milford:
Where in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My Lady's honour: What became of him,
I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the ftory ;
I flew him there.

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend !
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence : pr’ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

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 spurn the sea,
Could it fo roar to me, I cut off's head,
And am right glad he is not standing here
To tell the tale of me.

Cym. I'm sorry for thee;

Ву

By thine own tongue thou art condema'd, and must
Endure our law: thou’rt dead,

Imo. That headless man
I thought had been my Lord.

Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.

Bel. Stay, Sir King,
This man is a better than the man he new,
As well descended as thyself, and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Hed ever scar for. Let his arms alone, [To the Guard,
They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old soldier;
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tempting of our wrath ? how of descent
As good as we?

Aru. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.'

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 sons, I must
For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,
Though haply well for you.

Arv. Your danger's ours.
Guid. And our good yours.

Bel. Have at it then, by leave :
Thou had'ft, great King, a subject, who was call'a
Bellarius.

Cym. What of him ? a banish'a traitor.

Bel. He it is that hath
Allum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man,
I know not how a traitor,

Cym. Take him hence,
The whole world shall not save him.

Bel. Not too hot :. .
First pay me for the nursing of thy fons,
And let it be confiscate all, fo soon
As I've receiv'd it.

Cym. Nursing of my fons ?
Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy; here's my knee :

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Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons,
Then spare not the old father. Mighty Sir,
These two young gentlemen that call me father
And think they are my sons, are none of mine,
They are the issue of your loins, my Liege,
And blood of your begetting.
Cym. How

my

issue? Bel

. So sure as you, your father's: I, old Morgan,
Am that Bellarius whom you sometime banish'd ;
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment
It felf, and all my treason: That I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle Princes,
(For such and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train’d up; such arts they have, as I
Could put into them. Sir, my breeding was,
As your Grace knows. Their nurse Euripbile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment : I mov'd her to't,
Having receiv'd the punishment before.
For that which I did then.. Beatings for loyalty
Excited me to treason. Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it hap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, Sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'ft companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heav'ns
Fall on their heads like dew ! for they are worthy
To in-lay heav'n with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'ft:
The service that you three have done, is more
Unlike, than this thou tell’ft. I lost my children
If 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,
Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius :
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger Princely son; he, Sir, was lapt
Ia a molt curious mantle, wrought by th' hand

Of

Of his Queen-mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine Star,
It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is the ;
Who hath upon him ftill that nat'ral Atamp:
It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym. Oh, what am I?
A mother to the birth of three ? ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more ; bleft may you be,
That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! oh Imogen,
Thou’alt loft by this a Kingdom.

Imo. No, my Lord :
I've got two worlds by't. Oh my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? oh, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker. You call'd me brother
When I was but your fifter : I, you brothers,
When ye were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?
Arv. Ay, my good Lord.

Guid. And at first meeting lov'd,
Continu'd ro, until we thought the died.

Cor. By the Queen's dram she swallow'd.

Cym. O rare instinct !
When shall I hear all through this fierce abridgment
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you ?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers ? how first met them?
Why Aed you from the Court ? and whither? these,
And your three motives to the battel, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded,
And all the other by-dependances
From chance to chance : but not the time nor place
Will serve long interrogatories. See,
Postbumus anchors upon Imogen ;

And

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