Pif. How fares my mistress? Imo. O get thee from my fight, Thou gav'ft me poifon! dang'rous fellow, hence! 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. Cym. New matter still? Imo. It poifon'd me. Cor. Oh Gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confefs'd, Cym. 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. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady from you? [To Poft. Think that you are upon a rock, and now [Throwing her arms about his neck. Throw me again. Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, Till the tree die ! Cym. How now, my flesh? my child? What, mak'ft thou me a dull ard in this act? Wilt thou not fpeak to me? Imo. Your bleffing, Sir. [Kneeling. Bel. Tho you did love this youth, I blame you not, You had a motive for't, Cym. My tears that fall [To Guiderius and Arviragus. Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen, Imo. I'm forry for't, my Lord. Cym. Oh, he was nought; 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 speak truth. Lord Cloten, With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and fwore It was my inftant death. By accident To feek him on the mountains near to Milford: Guid. Let me end the ftory; I flew him there. Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend! I would not thy good deeds fhould from my lips Guid. I've fpoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a Prince. Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs he did me And am right glad he is not standing here Cym. I'm forry for thee; By By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and muft Endure our law: thou'rt dead. Imo. That headless man I thought had been my Lord. This man is a better than the man he flew, Cym. Why, old foldier, [To the Guard. Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, As good as we ? Arv. In that he spake too far. But I will prove that two on's are as good Arv. Your danger's ours. Bel. Have at it then, by leave: Thou had'ft, great King, a subject, who was call'd' 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 fawcy; here's 's my knee: Ere Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons, Mighty Sir, Cym. How? my iffue? Bel. So fure as you, your father's: I, old Morgan, For that which I did then. Beatings for loyalty Cym. Thou weep'ft, and fpeak'ft: The fervice that you three have done, is more A pair of worthier fons. Bel. Be pleas'd a while This gentleman, whom I call Paladour, Moft worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: Of Of his Queen-mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce. Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a fanguine ftar, It was a mark of wonder. Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him ftill that natʼral stamp: Cym. Oh, what am I? A mother to the birth of three? ne'er mother Oh my gentle brothers, When I was but your fifter: I, you brothers, Cym. Did you e'er meet? Aru. Ay, my good Lord. Guid. And at firft meeting lov'd, Continu'd fo, until we thought he died. Cor. By the Queen's dram fhe fwallow'd. When fhall I hear all through? this fierce abridgment Diftinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you? I know not how much more, fhould be demanded, From chance to chance; but not the time nor place Poftbumus anchors upon Imogen ; And |