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But we saw him dead.
It is my mistress :
Since she is living, let the time run on,
[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward.
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render
What's that to him?
Cym. That diamond upon your finger say, How came it yours?
Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
How! me? Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which
Torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:
The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Nay, nay, to the purpose.
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
Whom thou didst banish; and (which more, may (O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks
As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my
It poison'd me. O gods! I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat. Сут. What's this, Cornelius ? Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me To temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life; but, in short time, All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. - Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. Bel. There was our error.
My boys, This is sure, Fidele.
Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think, that you are upon a rock; and now
Throw me again.
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me
Cym. I am sorry for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: Thou art dead.
[Embracing him. Hang there like fruit, my soul,
How now, my flesh, my child?
Gui. And our good his.
Till the tree die!
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Cel. Though you did love this youth, I blame
Your danger is
Have at it then.
Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who
Was call'd Belarius.
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, and so they are,) these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't; Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty, Excited me to treason: Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world: The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. Cym.
Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons.
Be pleas'd awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arvirágus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce.
Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O rare instinct ! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridge
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. - Where, how liv'd
And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.
The soldier that did company these three
The purpose I then follow'd;- That I was he,
Iach. I am down again: [Kneeling. But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess, That ever swore her faith.
Kneel not to me;
The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all.
You holp us, sir,
Good my lord o
As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we, that you are.
Post. Your servant, princes.
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought,
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc.
Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
Well, And, Caius Lucius,
My peace we will begin : -
Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune
SCENE I. - Rome. Before the Capitol.
Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown.
Lives not this day within the city walls:
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths;
friends, followers, favourers of Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
If ever Bassianus, Cæsar's son,
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
In coffins from the field;
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Let us entreat.
- By honour of his name, Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,