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For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember,–Give me leave; I faint.
Cym. My daughter! what of her ? Renew thy

strength:
I had rather thou should'st live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

Iach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour !) it was in Rome, (accurs’d
The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head !) the good Posthumus,
(What should I say? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak : for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye :-

Cym. I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.

Iach. All too soon I shall,
Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Posthumus,
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover,) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom we prais’d, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in’t, either our brags

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Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

Iach. Your daughter's chastity—there it begins ! He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch ! Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring By hers and mine adultery : he, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phæbus' wheel; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain Post I in this design : Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench’al Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd, That I return’d with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet, (0, cunning, how I got it !) nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack’d,

I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I see him now,—
Post. Ay, so thou.dost,

[Coming forward.
Italian fiend !--Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That’s due to all the villains past, in being,
To come!-0, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer ! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious : it is I
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend,
By being worse than they, I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter :-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:—the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o’the street to bay me; every villain
Be call’d, Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villainy less than 'twas !-O Imogen !
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear-
Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful

page,
There lie thy part.

[Striking her : she falls.
Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help
Mine, and your mistress :—0, my lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now :-Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!.

Cym. Does the world go round ?
Post. How come these staggers on me?
Pis. Wake, my mistress !

w fares my

my sight;

low, hence :

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy.

Pis. How fares my mistress ? · Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav’st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pis. Lady,
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing; I had it from the queen.

Cym. New matter still ?. Es
· Imo. It poison'd me. ,
· Cor. 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 a cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

Cym. 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. 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 ?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Imo. Your blessing, sir.

[Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye

not; You had a motive for't.

[To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Cym. My tears, that fall, Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead.

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, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn; foam’d at the mouth, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death: By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's

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