Of your chaste daughter the wide difference Post. Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool, That's due to all the villains past, in being, That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend, 4 Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself. Be villainy less than 'twas! — O Imogen ! Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. Pis. [Striking her: she falls. O, gentlemen, help, help, Mine, and your mistress:-O, 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. 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. Pis. Lady, The tune of Imogen ! The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if Imo. It poison'd me. Cor. Cym. 5 To temper poisons for her; still pretending Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? There was our error. Gui. This is sure, Fidele. My boys, Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again. Post. Till the tree die ! Cym. [Embracing him. Hang there like fruit, my soul, How now, my flesh, my child? Your blessing sir. [Kneeling. What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? -Imo. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye I am sorry for't, my lord. Thy mother's dead. Imo. Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was, 5 Mix, compound. That we meet here so strangely: But her son 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, Gui. I slew him there. Cym. Let me end the story: Marry, the gods forfend! 6 I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again. 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 roar so to me: I cut off's head; And am right glad, he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. Сут. I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: Thou art dead. This man is better than the man he slew, [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage. As good as we? Arv. In that he spake too far. We will die all three : Cym. And thou shalt die for't. Arv. Ours. Gui. And our good his. Bel. Your danger is Have at it then. By leave;-Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who Was call'd Belarius. Cym. A banish'd traitor. Bel. What of him? he is He it is, that hath Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man ; I know not how, a traitor. The whole world shall not save him. Cym. Bel. Take him hence; Not too hot: |