(For whom he now is banish'd) her own price Proclaims, how fhe esteem'd him and his virtue. By her election may be truly read,

What kind of man he is.

2 Gent. I honour him, ev'n out of your report. But tell me, is the fole child to the King?

1 Gent. His only child.

He had two fons, fif this be worth your hearing,
Mark it ;), the eldest of them at three years old,
I'th' fwathing clothes the other, from their nursery
Were ftoll'n; and to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

2 Gent. How long is this ago?

Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a King's children fhould be fo convey'd, So flackly guarded, and the search so flow

That could not trace them,

1 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 must forbear. Here comes the Gentleman,

The Queen, and Princess.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and attendants.

1

Queen. No, be affur'd, you fhall not find me, daughter, After the flander of moft ftep-mothers,

I'll-ey'd unto you: You're my pris'ner, but
Your goaler fhall deliver you the keys

That lock up your reftaint.

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 fentence, with what patience
Your wisdom 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

T

The pangs of barr'd affections; though the King
Hath charg'd, you should not fpeak together. [Exit.
Imo. Diffembling courtefy! 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

His rage can do on me. You must be gone,
And I shall here abide the hourly fhot
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'ft 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
Though ink be made of gall,

Re-enter Queen.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you;

you

fend,

If the King come, I fhall incur I know not
How much of his difpleafure-yet I'll move him [4fide.
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 lothnefs to depart would grow:-adieu!
Imo. Nay, ftay a little-

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

Such parting were too petty. Look here, love,
This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart,
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.

[Exit.

Poft.

Poft. How, how, another!

You gentle Gods, give me but this I have,
And fear up my embracememts from a next

With bonds of death. Remain, remain thou here,

[Putting on the ring.
While fenfe can keep thee on! and fweeteft, faireft,
As I my poor felf did exchange for you,
To your fo infinite lofs; fo, in our trifles

I ftill win of you. For my fake, wear this;
It is a manacle of love, I'll place it

Upon this faireft pris'ner.
Imo. O, the Gods!

When shall we see again?

[Putting a bracelet on her arm.

Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

Poft. Alack, the King!

Cym. Thou bafeft thing, avoid; hence, from my fight: If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou dy't. Away! Thou'rt poifon to my blood.

Poft. The Gods protect you,

And bless the good remainders of the court!

I am gone.

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this is.

Cym. O difloyal thing, (2)

(2):

O difleyal Thing,

That shouldft repair my Youth, thou beap'f

Year's Age on me.]

[Exit.

That

The King lov'd his Daughter, and was much vex'd and disappoint-
ed at ber having married against his Confent. But, furely, his
Sorrow was not very extreme, if the Effects of it only added one
Year to his Age. Others have complained, of bringing their grey
Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave. Our Cymbeline feems a more tem-
perate Mourner.
But we must correct, as my ingenious Friend
Mr. Warburton acutely obférv'd to me,

A yare Age on me.

i. e. a fudden, precipitate, Old Age. For the Word fignifies not

only

That shouldft repair my youth, thou heap'ft

A yare age on me.

Imo. I beseech you, Sir,

Harm not yourself with your Vexation ;

;

I'm fenfelefs of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym. Paft grace? obedience?

Imo. Paft hope, and in defpair; that way, paft grace. Cym. Thou might'ft have had the fole fon of my Queen. Imo. O, bleft, that I might not! I chofe an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.

Cym. Thou took't a beggar; would't have made my Throne

A feat for bafenefs.

Imo. No, I rather added,

A luftre to it.

Cym. O thou vile one!

. Imo. Sir,

It is your fault, that I have lov'd Pofthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; over-buys me
Almoft the fum he pays.

Cym. What art thou mad?

1

Imo. Almoft, Sir; heav'n reftore me! 'would I were A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus

Our neighbour-fhepherd's fon!

Enter Queen.

Cym. Thou foolish thing;

They were again together, you have done

Not after our command. Away with her,

And pen her up.

Queen. Befeech your patience; peace,

[To the Queen.

Dear lady daughter, peace. Sweet Sovereign,

Leave us t' ourselves, and make yourself fome comfort Out of your best advice.

only nimble, dexterous, as it is many times employed in our Author but likewife, as SKINNER expounds it, fervidus, promptus, præceps, impatiens

Cym

Cym. Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a-day; and, being aged,

Die of this folly.

Enter Pifanio.

Queen. Fy, you must give way:

[Exit.

Here is your fervant. How now, Sir? what news
Pif. My Lord your fon drew on my mafter,
Queen. Hah!

No harm, I truft, is done?

Pif. There might have been,

But that my master rather play'd, than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.

Queen. I'm very glad on't.

Imo. Your fon's my father's friend, he takes his part, To draw upon an exile: O brave Sir!

I would they were in Africk both together,
Myfelf by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your mafter ?
Pif. On his command; he would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven: left these notes
Of what commands I fhould be fubject to,
When't pleas'd you to employ me.

Queen. This hath been

Your faithful fervant: I dare lay mine honour,
He will remain fo.

- Pif. I humbly thank your Highness.

Queen. Pray, walk a while.

Imo. About fome half hour hence, pray you, fpeak

with me;

You fhall, at leaft, go fee my Lord aboard.

For this time leave me.

Enter Cloten, and two Lords.

[Exeunt.

Lord. Sir, I would advise you to fhift a fhirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a facrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad fo wholfome as that you vent.

Clot