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. [you? Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from Think, that you are upon a mock, and now 'Till the tree die! Cym. How now, my flefh? my child? What, mak't thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? Imo. Your Bleffing, Sir, [Kneeling. [To Guid. Arvi. Bel. Tho' you did love this youth, I blame you not, You had a motive for't. Cym. My tears, that fall, Prove holy-water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Imo. I'm forry for't, my lord. Cym. Oh, she was naught; 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 fpeak truth. Lord Cloten, With his fword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and fwore, If I difcover'd not which way fhe went, It It was my inftant death. By accident To feek him on the mountains near to Milford : he posts With unchafte 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 fhould from my lips Pluck a hard fentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again. Guid. I've fpoke 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 fpurn the fea, Could it fo roar to me. I cut off's head; And am right glad, he is not ftanding here To tell this tale of mine. Cym. I'm forry for thee; By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Imo. That headless man Cym. Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. Bel. Stay, Sir King, This man is better than the man he flew, More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens --Let his arms alone; Had ever fcar for.: They were not born for bondage. Cym. Why, old Soldier, `. [To the Guard. Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, Aru. In that he spake too far. But I will prove, that two on's are as good As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I muft, For my own part, unfold a dangerous fpeech, Though, haply, well for you. Aru. Your danger's ours. Bel. Have at it then, by leave: Thou had', great King, a fubject, who was call'd Cym. What of him? a banih'd traitor. Affum'd this age; indeed, a banish'd man; Cym. Take him hence, The whole world fhall not fave him. Bel. Not too hot: Firft, pay me for the nurfing of thy fons; As I've receiv'd it. Cym. Nurfing of my fons ? Bel. I am too blunt, and faucy; here's my Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons, knee : Then fpare not the old Father. Mighty Sir, Cym. How? my iffue? Bel. So fure, as you, your father's: I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you fometime banish'd; Your pleasure was my near offence, my punifament Itself, and all my treafon: That I fuffer'd, Was Was all the harm I did. These gentle Princes For That which I did then. Beaten for loyalty, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Cym. Thou weep'ft, and speak'st: The fervice, that you three have done, is more Bel. Be pleas'd a while This gentleman, whom I call Paladour, Moft worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: Your younger princely fon; he, Sir, was lapt Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a fanguine star; It was a mark of wonder. Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him ftill that nat'ral flamp: Cym. Oh, what am I A A mother to the birth of three! ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more; bleft may you be, Imo. No, my lord: I've got two worlds by't. Oh, my gentle brothers, Cym. Did you e'er meet? Aru. Ay, my good lord. Guid. And at firft meeting lov'd; Continued fo, until we thought he died. Cor. By the Queen's dram fhe swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct ! When fhall I hear all through? this fierce abridgment Hath to it circumftantial branches, which Diftinction fhould be rich in.-Where? how liv'd you? And when came you to ferve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how firft met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither ?-Thefe, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded; From chance to chance: but not the time, nor place, And fhe, like harmless lightning, throws her eye [To Belarius. Ino. You are my father too, and did relieve me, To fee this gracious season ! Сут. |