Would this report become? But I consider, Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life, Cym. Prithee, say. Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved you, Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty, was wife to your place; 30 Abhorr'd your person. Cym. Proceed. And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did ccnfess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life and lingering 'By inches waste you: in which time she purposed, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 43. bore in hand to love, beguiled into the belief that she loved her. 47. delicate, fine, subtle. 50. mineral, poison. 50 O'ercome you with her show, and in time, Heard you all this, her women? First Lady. We did, so please your highness. Cym. Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, vicious To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, 60 And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute; that That their good souls may be appeased with Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day 55. to work her son into the adoption of the crown, to procure his adoption as heir. 70 68. prove it in thy feeling, attest it by your own sufferings. 74. estate, condition. We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods So feat, so nurse-like let his virtue join With my request, which I'll make bold your highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, I have surely seen him: Cym. Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, nor wherefore, The noblest ta'en. 8a 90 Imo. I humbly thank your highness. 100 Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know thou wilt. Imo. No, no: alack, There's other work in hand: I see a thing Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, 83 my peculiar care, my personal concern. 87. over his occasions, in ministering to his wants. 95. nor; omitted, in Ff, supplied by Rowe. Must shuffle for itself. The boy disdains me, Luc. Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. Cym. Wherefore eyest him so? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. Сут. Ay, with all my heart, What's thy name? And lend my best attention. Imo. Fidele, sir. Cym. Thou 'rt my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely. Bel. Is not this boy revived from death? One sand another 120 Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure 130 Gui. Bel. Be silent; let's see further. Pis. But we saw him dead. [Aside] It is my mistress: Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad. Сут. [Cymbeline and Imogen come forward. Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud. [To Iachimo] Sir, step you forth; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. Post. [Aside] What's that to him? Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours? Iach. Thou 'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. Cym. How! me? Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; Whom thou didst banish; and-which more may grieve thee, As it doth me-a nobler sir ne'er lived 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach. That paragon, thy daughter, 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: 150 140 |