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Pis. How fares my mistress?
Imo. G, get thee from my sight;
Cyrri. The tune of Imogen!
Cym. New matter still?
Imo. It poison'd me.
Cor. 0 gods!
I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd,
Cym, What's this, Cornelius?
Cor. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'd me
Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead.
Bel. My boys,
There was our error.
Gui. 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. [Embracing him. Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul.
Till the tree die!
Cym. How now! my flesh, my child?
What! mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?
Imo. Your blessing, sir.
Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for 't.
[To Gtjideritjs and Abyiragus.
Cym. My tears that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Imo. I am sorry for 't, my lord.
Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was That we meet here so strangely: but her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pis. My lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Gui. Let me end the story.
t slew him there.
Cym. Marry, the gods forefend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it.
Cym. He was a prince.
Gui. A most uncivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.
Cym. I am sorry for thee:
By thine own tongue thou art condemn d, and must Endure our law. Thou art dead.
Imo. That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Bel. Stay, sir King.
This man is better than the man he slew, —
[To the guard. They were not born for bondage.
Cym. Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
Arv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for 't.
Bel. We will die all three,
But I will prove that two on 's are as good
YOL. XII. R
For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,
Arv. Your danger 's ours.
Gui. And our good, his.
Bel. Have at it, then, by leave.
Thou hadst, great King, a subject, who was call'd Belarius.
Cym. What of him? he is
A banish'd, traitor.
Bel. He it is that hath
Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man;
Cym. Take him hence.
The whole world shall not save him.
Bel. Not too hot;
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
Cym, Nursing of my sons?
Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy; here's my knee: Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine: They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.
Cym. How! my issue?
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
Bel. Be pleas'd a while. —
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Cym. Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star:
Bel. This is he,
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
Cym. O, what, am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother