CYMBELINE.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Cymbeline's Palace in Britain.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods

No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers',

Still feem, as does the king's.

2 Gent. But what's the matter?

1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom

He purpos'd to his wife's fole fon, (a widow,
That late he married) hath referr'd herself

b

Unto a poor, but worthy gentleman: She's wedded
Her husband banish'd; the imprifon'd: all

Is outward forrow; though, I think, the king

Be touch'd at very

heart.

2 Gent. None but the king?

1 Gent. He, that hath loft her, too; fo is the queen, That moft defir'd the match: But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent

a

our bloods, &c.]-our difpofitions, and of confequence our countenances, which are faid to depend on the ftate of the blood, are no more under the control of the celeftial influences, than those of our courtiers, but are alike regulated by that of the king. referr'd berfelf-betaken herfelf for protection.

Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not

Glad at the thing they scowl at.

2 Gent. And why fo?

1 Gent. He that hath mifs'd the princefs, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, (I mean, that marry'd her,—alack, good man!And therefore banifh'd) is a creature fuch As, to feek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be fomething failing In him that should compare. I do not think, So fair an outward, and fuch stuff within, Endows a man but he.

2 Gent. You speak him far.

d

I Gent. I do extend him, fir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold

His measure duly.

2 Gent. What's his name, and birth?

I Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, Against the Romans, with Caffibelan; But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He ferv'd with glory and admir'd fuccefs; So gain'd the fur-addition, Leonatus : And had, befides this gentleman in question, Two other fons; who, in the wars o'the time, Dy'd with their fwords in hand: for which, their father (Then old and fond of iffue) took fuch forrow, That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd As he was born. The king, he takes the babe

You speak him far.]-You are lavish in his commendation.

I do extend him, &c.]-I give you his proportions far fhort of what he is, and rather defcribe him in the grofs, than aim at a distinct detail of his various perfections." Where they are extended.” TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, Vol. II. p. 72. U.

Το

To his protection; calls him Pofthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts to him all the learning that his time.

Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minifter'd; and
In his fpring became a harvest: Liv'd in court,
(Which rare it is to do) moft prais'd, most lov'd :

.

A fample to the youngest; to the more mature,

'A glass that feated them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
Proclaims how fhe efteem'd him and his virtue,
By her election may be truly read,

What kind of man he is.

2 Gent. I honour him

Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
Is fhe fole child to the king?

I Gent. His only child,

He had two fons, (if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it) the eldest of them at three years old,

I' the fwathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were ftolen; and to this hour, no guefs in knowledge Which way they went,

2 Gent. How long is this ago?

1 Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a king's children fhould be fo convey'd ! So flackly guarded! And the fearch so flow,

That could not trace them!

1 Gent. Howfoe'er 'tis ftrange,

A glass that feated them;]-featur'd-formed, ferved as a model, or mirrour, whereby to adjust their external appearance. "He was indeed the glass," &c.

HENRY IV. Part II. A& II. S. 3. L. Percy. "The glass of fashion," &c. HAMLET, A&t III. S. 1. Oph. *ber own price]-the bestowing her precious felf upon him,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,

Yet is it true, fir.

2 Gent. I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We muft forbear: Here comes the gentleman, The queen, and princefs.

SCENE II,

[Exeunt.

Enter the Queen, Pofthumus, Imogen, and Attendants.

Queen. No, be affur'd, you fhall not find me, daughter, After the flander of moft ftep-mothers,

Evil ey'd unto you: you are my prifoner,. but
Your gaoler fhall deliver you the keys

That lock up your reftraint. For you, Pofthumus,
So foon as I can win the offended king,

I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,

You lean'd unto his fentence, with what patience
inform you.

Your wisdom may

Poft. Please your highness,

I will from hence to-day.

Queen. You know the peril :

I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king
Hath charg'd you fhould not fpeak together.

[Exit,

Imo. O diffembling courtefy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where the wounds !-My dearest husband,
I fomething fear my father's wrath; but nothing,
( Always referv'd my holy duty) what

His rage can do on me: You must be gone;
And I fhall here abide the hourly fhot

Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,

(8 Always referv'd my holy duty)—(As far as I may fay it without breach of duty.)

But

But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may fee again.

Poft. My queen! my mistress!

O, lady, weep no more; left I give cause
To be fufpected of more tenderness

Than doth become a man! I will remain
The loyal'ft husband that did e'er plight troth,
My refidence in Rome, at one Philario's ;
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you fend,
Though ink be made of gall.

Re-enter Queen.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you:

If the king come, I fhall incur I know not

How much of his displeasure :-Yet I'll move him

[Afide.

To walk this way: I never do him wrong,

But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.

[Exit.

Poft. Should we be taking leave

As long a term as yet we have to live,

The lothness to depart would grow: Adieu!

Imo. Nay, ftay a little :

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it 'till you woo another wife,

When Imogen is dead.

Poft. How! how! another?—

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,

And fear up my embracements from a next

* Sear]—close.