Crм. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for fhe was beautiful;

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her feeming; it had been vicious,
To have miftrufted her: yet, O my daughter!

That it was folly in me, thou may'st say,

And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman prifoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS bebind, and Iмo

GEN.

Thou com'ft not, Caius, now for tribute; that

The Britons have raz'd out, though with the lofs
Of many a bold one; whofe kinfmen have made fuit,
That their good fouls may be appeas'd with flaughter
Of
you their captives, which our self have granted:
So, think of your eftate.

Luc. Confider, fir, the chance of war: the day

Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,

We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd
Our prifoners with the fword. But fince the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ranfom, let it come: fufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can fuffer:
Auguftus lives to think on't: And so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ranfom'd: never mafter had
A page fo kind, fo duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occafions, true,

So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join

With my requeft, which, I'll make bold, your highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,

Though he have ferv'd a Roman: fave him, fir,

And spare no blood befide.

Crм. I have furely feen him; His favour is familiar to me.

Boy, thou haft look'd thyself into my grace,

And art mine own.-I know not why, nor wherefore,
To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy mafter; live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The nobleft ta'en.

IMO. I humbly thank your highness.

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet, I know, thou wilt.

Iмo. No, no; alack,

There's other work in hand; I fee a thing
Bitter to me as death: your life, good mafter,
Muft fhuffle for itself.

Luc. The boy difdains me,

He leaves me, fcorns me: Briefly die their joys,
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.-
Why ftands he fo perplex'd?

Crм. What would'ft thou, boy?

I love thee more and more; think more and more
What's best to ask. Know'ft him thou look'ft on? speak,
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 fomething nearer.

Crм. Wherefore ey'ft him fo?

IMO. I'll tell you, fir, in private, if you please

To give me hearing.

Crм. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my beft attention. What's thy name?

K k iiij

IMO. Fidele, fir.

Crм. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy mafter: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converfe apart.

BEL. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?

ARV. One fand another

Not more resembles: That fweet rofy lad,

Who died, and was Fidele :-What think you?

GUI. The fame dead thing alive.

BEL. Peace, peace! fee further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am fure

Since fhe is living, let the time run on,

Lfide.

To good, or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward.
Crм. Come, ftand thou by our fide;

Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [to IACH.] ftep you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatnefs, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall

Winnow the truth from falfehood.-On, speak to him.
IMO. My boon is, that this gentleman may render

Of whom he had this ring.

POST. What's that to him?

Crм. That diamond upon your finger, fay,

How came it yours?

IACH. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

Crм. How! me?

[Afide.

IACH. I am glad to be conftrain'd to utter that which Torments me to conceal. By villainy

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:

Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may grieve thee, As it doth me,) a nobler fir ne'er liv'd

'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? Crм. All that belongs to this.

LACH. That paragon, thy daughter,—

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember,-Give me leave; I faint.

Crм. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy ftrength:
I had rather thou fhould'ft live while nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: ftrive, man, and speak.
IACH. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd
The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Pofthumus,
(What should I fay? he was too good, to be
Where ill men were; and was the best of all
Amongst the rar'ft of good ones,) fitting fadly,
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the fwell'd boast
Of him that best could fpeak: for feature, laming
The fhrine of Venus, or ftraight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man

Loves woman for; befides, that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which ftrikes the eye :-

Crм. I ftand on fire :

Come to the matter.

IACH. All too foon I shall,

Unless thou would'ft grieve quickly. This Pofthumus,

(Most like a noble lord in love, and one

That had a royal lover,) took his hint;

And, not difpraising whom we prais'd, (therein

He was as calm as virtue,) he began

His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in't, either our brags

Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his defcription
Prov'd us unfpeaking fots.

Crм. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

IACH. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins.
He fpake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made fcruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In fuit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring;
And would fo, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Poft I in this defign: Well may you, fir,

Remember me at Court, where I was taught
Of

your chafte daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain

'Gan in

your

duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my 'vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd,
That I return'd with fimilar proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,