Post.

Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.

Alack, the king!

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my

sight!

If, after this command, thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!
Thou art poison to my blood.

Post.

The gods protect you!

[Exit.

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.

1

O disloyal thing,

That shouldst repair my youth; thou heapest
A year's age on me! 2

Imo.

I beseech you, sir,

Harm not yourself with your vexation: I
Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

3

Сут.
Past grace? obedience?
Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.
Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my

queen!

Imo. O blessed, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.1

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

1 i. e. renovate my youth, make me young again. "To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the first state, to renew."

2 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads:

thou heapest many

A year's age on me!"

Some such emendation seems necessary.

3 "A touch more rare" is "a more exquisite feeling."

4 A puttock is a mean, degenerate species of hawk, too worthless to deserve training.

Imo.

Sir,

It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus.
You bred him as my playfellow; and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.1

Cym.

What!-art thou mad?

Imo. Almost, sir; Heaven restore me!—'Would

I were

A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus

Our neighbor shepherd's son!

And pen her up.
Queen.

'Beseech your patience;-peace,

Dear lady daughter, peace. Sweet sovereign,

Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.2

Сут.

Nay, let her languish

[Exit.

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

Die of this folly!

Queen.

Enter PISANIO.

Fie!-you must give way;

Here is your servant.-How now, sir? What news? Pis. My lord your son drew on my master.

Queen.

I am very glad on't.

Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his

part.

To draw upon an exile!-O brave sir!

I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick

The goer back. Why came you from your master?
Pis. On his command. He would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven; left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When it pleased you to employ me.

Queen.
This hath been
Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honor,
He will remain so.

Pis.

I humbly thank your highness.

Queen. Pray, walk a while.
Imo.

About some half hour hence,

I pray you, speak with me; you shall, at least,
Go see my lord aboard. For this time, leave me.

[Exeunt.

Enter CLOTEN and two Lords.

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it-Have I hurt him?

2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience.

[Aside.

1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt; it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town.

Clo. The villain would not stand me.

[Aside.

2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

[Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you! You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!

[Aside. Clo. I would they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.

[Aside. Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.

1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her her brain go not together. She's a good have seen small reflection of her wit.1 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest tion should hurt her.

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber.

been some hurt done!

[Aside. beauty and sign, but I

the reflec[Aside.

'Would

there had

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall

Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO.

Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,

And question'dst every sail; if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost

1 "Her beauty and her sense are not equal." To understand the force of this idea, it should be remembered, that anciently almost every sign had a motto, or some attempt at a witticism underneath.

As offered mercy is. What was the last
That he spake to thee?

Pis.

Imo. Then waved his handkerchief?

Pis.

'Twas, His

queen, his queen!

And kissed it, madam.

Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than I!—
And that was all?

Pis.
No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this eye or ear 2
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sailed on,
How swift his ship.

Imo.

Thou shouldst have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him.

Pis. Madam, so I did.

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; cracked them, but

To look upon him; till the diminution

3

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;

Nay, followed him, till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air; and then

Have turned mine eye, and wept.-But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?

Pis.

With his next vantage.1

Be assured, madam,

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say.

Ere I could tell him,

How I would think on him, at certain hours,

Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest, and his honor; or have charged him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,

To encounter me with orisons, for then

1 "Its loss would be as fatal as the loss of intended mercy to a condemned criminal."

2 The old copy reads, "his eye or ear."

3 The diminution of space is the diminution of which space is the cause. 4 Opportunity.