1st Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers ; Still seem, as does the king's. 2d Gent. But what's the matter? 1st Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow, That late he married,) hath referred herself Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart. 2d Gent. None but the king? 1st Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, 2d Gent. And why so? 1st Gent. He, that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he, that hath her, As, to seek through the regions of the earth Endows a man but he. 2d Gent. You speak him far. 1st Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 2d Gent. What's his name, and birth? 1st Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus : And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o'the time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father Could make him the receiver of; which he took, : A child that guided dotards: to his mistress, By her election may be truly read, What kind of man he is. 2d Gent. I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, 1st Gent. His only child. He had two sons; (if this be worth your hearing, Which way they went. 2d Gent. How long is this ago? 1st Gent. Some twenty years. 2d Gent. That a king's children should be so con vey'd! So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, 1st Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, 2d Gent. I do well believe you. 1st Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet Post. Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen. You know the peril :ï I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying |