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Would this report become? But I consider,
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life,
Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
Affected greatness got by you, not you:
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person.
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,
Ta'en off by poison.
O most delicate fiend!
Who is 't can read a woman?
Cor. More, sir, and worse.
Is there more?
She did confess
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
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.
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, That thought her like her seeming; it had been
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
And prove it in thy feeling.
Heaven mend all!
Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN.
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.
68. prove it in thy feeling. attest it by your own sufferings. 74. estate, condition.
We should not, when the blood was cool, have
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,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own. I know not why, nor wherefore,
The noblest ta'en.
Imo. I humbly thank your highness. 100 Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know thou wilt.
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
87. over his occasions, in
ministering to his wants.
95. nor; omitted in Ff, supplied by Rowe.
Must shuffle for itself.
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
Am something nearer.
Wherefore eyest him so? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing.
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
Imo. Fidele, sir.
Thou 'rt my good youth, my page;
One sand another 120
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;
Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure
Bel. Be silent; let's see further.
But we saw him dead.
[Aside] It is my mistress :
Since she is living, let the time run on
To good or bad.
[Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.
Make thy demand aloud. [To Iachimo] Sir, step
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.
[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.
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
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.
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