Ymbeline, King of Britain.

CY

Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. Leonatus Pofthumus, A Gentleman in Love with the Princess, and privately Married to her.

Guiderius, Difguis'd under the Names of Polidore and Arviragus, Cadwal, fuppofed Sons to Bellarius.

Bellarius, A Banish'd Lord, disguis'd under the Name of Morgan.

Philario, An Italian, Friend to Pofthumus.

Jachimo, Friend to Philario.

Caius Lucius, Ambassador from Rome.

Pifanio, Servant to Pofthumus.

A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario.

Cornelius, A Doctor, Servant to the Queen.
Two Gentlemen.

Queen, Wife to Cymbeline.

Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen.
Helen, Woman to Imogen.

Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators,Tribunes, Ghofts, a Soothsayer, Captains, Soldiers, Meffengers, and other Attendants.

SCENE, for fome Part of the first, second, and third Alts, lyes in Rome, for the reft of the Play in Britain.

CY Μ ΒΕLINE

ACTI SCENE I

SCENE A Falace,

Enter two Gentlemen.

I GENTLEMAN.

OU do not meet a Man but frowns: Our
Bloods

No more obey the Heav'ns than our Courtiers;
But feem, as do's the King's.

2 Gent. But what's the matter?

I Gent. His Daughter, and the Heir of's
Kingdom (whom

He purpos'd to his Wife's fole Son, a Widow
That late he married) hath referr'd her felf
Unto a poor, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,
Her Husband banish'd; the imprison'd, all

Is outward forrow, though I think the King
Be touch'd at very Heart.

2 Gent. None but the King?

1 Gent. He that hath loft her too: fo is the Queer. That most defir'd the Match. But not a Courtier, Although they wear their Faces to the bent

Of the King's looks, hath a Heart, that is not
Glad at the thing they coul at.

2 Gent. And why fo?

1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the Princefs, is a thing
Too bad, for bad report: And he that hath her,
(I mean, that marry'd her, alack good Man,
And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, fuch,
As to feek through the Regions of the Earth
For one, his like; there would be fomething failing
In him, that should compare. I do not think,
So fair an outward, and fuch stuff within
Endows a Man, but him.

2 Gent. You speak him fair.

I Gent. I do extend him, Sir, within himself,
Crush him together, rather than unfold
His Measure fully.

2 Gent. What's his Name and Birth?

I Gent. I cannot delve him to the Root: his Father
Was call'd Sicillins, who did join his Honour
Against the Romans, with Caffibelan,
But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom
He ferv'd with Glory and admir'd Success;
So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.

And had, befides this Gentleman in question,
Two other Sons, who in the Wars o'th' time

Dy'd with their Swords in Hand. For which their Father,
Then old, and fond of Iffue, took fuch Sorrow
That he quit Being; and his gentle Lady
Big of this Gentleman, our Theam, deceas'd,
As he was born. The King, he takes the Babe
To his Protection, calls him Pofthumus Leonatus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber,
Puts to him all the Learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of, which he took
As we do Air, faft as 'twas miniftred,
And in's Spring, became a Harveft: Liv'd in Court
Which rare it is to do, moft prais'd, most lov'd,
A Sample to the youngeft; to th' more Mature,
A Glafs that featur'd them; and to the Graver,
A Child that guided Dotards. To his Miftrefs,
For whom he now is banifh'd, her own Price
Proclaims how the efteem'd him; and his Virtue
By her E'ection may be truly read,

What kind of Man he is.

2 Gent

2 Gent. I honour him, even out of your report. But pray you tell me, is the fole Child to th'King? 1 Gent. His only Child.

He had two Sons (if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it) the eldest of them, at three Years old,
I'th' fwathing Cloaths the other, from their Nursery
Were ftoll'n, and to this Hour, no guefs in knowledge
Which way they went.

a Gent. How long is this ago?

I Gext. Some twenty Years.

■ Gent. That a King's Children fhould be fo convey'd ! So Blackly Guarded, and the Search fo flow

That could not trace them

I Gent, Howfoe'er 'tis ftrange,

Or that the Negligence may well be laugh'd at,
Yet is it true, Sir.

2 Gent. I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We muft forbear. Here comes the Gentleman, The Queen, and Princefs.

[Exeunt. Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and Attendants. Queen. No, be affur'd you fhall not find me, Daughter, After the Slander of moft Step-Mothers,

Evil-ey'd unto you: You're my Prifoner, but
Your Goaler fhall deliver you the Keys

That lock up your Reftraint. For you, Pofthumus,
So foon as I can win th' offended King,

I will be known your Advocate: marry yet

The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good

You lean'd unto his Sentence, with what Patience

Your Wifdom may inform you,

Poft. Please your Highnefs,

I will from hence to Day.

Queen. You know the peril :

I'll fetch a turn about the Garden, pitying

The Pangs of barr'd Affections, though the King

Hath charg'd you should not speak together.

[Exit

Imo. O diffembling Courtefie! How fine this Tyrant Can tickle where the wounds! My deareft Husband, I fomething fear my Father's Wrath, but nothing, Always referv'd my holy Duty, what

G 4

His

His Rage can do on me. You must be gone,
And I hall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry Eyes: Not comforted to live
But that there is this Jewel in the World,
That I may fee again.

Poft. My Queen! my Miftrefs!

O Lady, weep no more, left I give cause
To be fufpected of more Tenderness

Than doth become a Man. I will remain
The loyall'it Husband, that did e'er plight Troth.
My Refidence in Rome, at one Philario's,

Who to my Father was a Friend, to me
Known but by Letter; thither write, my Queen,
And with mine Eyes, I'll drink the Words you fend..
Though Ink be made of Gall.

Enter Queen.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you;

If the King come, I fhall incur, I know not

How much of his Difpleasure.yet I'll move him [Ale. To walk this way; I never do him wrong,

But he does buy my Injuries, to be Friends,

Pays dear for my Offences.

Poft. Should we be taking leave,

As long a term as yet we have to live,

The lothness to depart, would grow; Adieu.
Imo. Nay, flay a little :

Were you but riding forth to Air your felf,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, Love,
This Diamond was iny Mother's; take it, Heart,
But keep it 'till you woo another Wife,
When Imogen is dead.

Poft. How, how? Another !

You gentle Gods, give me but this I have,
And fear up my Embracements from a next,
With Bonds of Death. Remain, remain thou here

[Exit.

[Putting on the Ring.

While Senfe can keep it on: And fweeteft, faireft,
As I, my poor felf, did exchange for you
To your fo infinite lofs: So in our Trifles
I ftill win of you. For my fake wear this,
It is a Manacle of Love, I'll place it

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.