Cymbeline Part 19

Pis. Oh Gentlemen, helpe, Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus, You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe, Mine honour'd Lady

Cym. Does the world go round?

Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?

Pisa. Wake my Mistris

Cym. If this be so, the G.o.ds do meane to strike me To death, with mortall ioy

Pisa. How fares my Mistris?

Imo. Oh get thee from my sight, Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence, Breath not where Princes are

Cym. The tune of Imogen

Pisa. Lady, the G.o.ds throw stones of sulpher on me, if That box I gaue you, was not thought by mee A precious thing, I had it from the Queene

Cym. New matter still

Imo. It poyson'd me

Corn. Oh G.o.ds!

I left out one thing which the Queene confest, Which must approue thee honest. If Pasanio Haue (said she) giuen his Mistris that Confection Which I gaue him for Cordiall, she is seru'd, As I would serue a Rat

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me To temper poysons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, onely In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges Of no esteeme. I dreading, that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certaine stuffe, which being tane, would cease The present powre of life, but in short time, All Offices of Nature, should againe Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead

Bel. My Boyes, there was our error

Gui. This is sure Fidele

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro[m] you?

Thinke that you are vpon a Rocke, and now Throw me againe

Post. Hang there like fruite, my soule, Till the Tree dye

Cym. How now, my Flesh? my Childe?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this Act?

Wilt thou not speake to me?

Imo. Your blessing, Sir

Bel. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not, You had a motiue for't

Cym. My teares that fall Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen, Thy Mothers dead

Imo. I am sorry for't, my Lord

Cym. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was That we meet heere so strangely: but her Sonne Is gone, we know not how, nor where

Pisa. My Lord, Now feare is from me, Ile speake troth. Lord Cloten Vpon my Ladies missing, came to me With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and swore If I discouer'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, I had a feigned Letter of my Masters Then in my pocket, which directed him To seeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford, Where in a frenzie, in my Masters Garments (Which he inforc'd from me) away he postes With vnchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My Ladies honor, what became of him, I further know not

Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there

Cym. Marry, the G.o.ds forefend.

I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips Plucke a hard sentence: Prythee valiant youth Deny't againe

Gui. I haue spoke it, and I did it

Cym. He was a Prince

Gui. A most inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me With Language that would make me spurne the Sea, If it could so roare to me. I cut off's head, And am right glad he is not standing heere To tell this tale of mine

Cym. I am sorrow for thee: By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead

Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord Cym. Binde the Offender, And take him from our presence

Bel. Stay, Sir King.

This man is better then the man he slew, As well descended as thy selfe, and hath More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens Had euer scarre for. Let his Armes alone, They were not borne for bondage

Cym. Why old Soldier: Wilt thou vndoo the worth thou art vnpayd for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?

Arui. In that he spake too farre

Cym. And thou shalt dye for't

Bel. We will dye all three, But I will proue that two one's are as good As I haue giuen out him. My Sonnes, I must For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous speech, Though haply well for you

Arui. Your danger's ours

Guid. And our good his

Bel. Haue at it then, by leaue Thou hadd'st (great King) a Subiect, who Was call'd Belarius

Cym. What of him? He is a banish'd Traitor

Bel. He it is, that hath a.s.sum'd this age: indeed a banish'd man, I know not how, a Traitor

Cym. Take him hence, The whole world shall not saue him

Bel. Not too hot; First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes, And let it be confiscate all, so soone As I haue receyu'd it

Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?

Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy: heere's my knee: Ere I arise, I will preferre my Sonnes, Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir, These two young Gentlemen that call me Father, And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine, They are the yssue of your Loynes, my Liege, And blood of your begetting

Cym. How? my Issue

Bel. So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan) Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my neere offence, my punishment It selfe, and all my Treason that I suffer'd, Was all the harme I did. These gentle Princes (For such, and so they are) these twenty yeares Haue I train'd vp; those Arts they haue, as I Could put into them. My breeding was (Sir) As your Highnesse knowes: Their Nurse Euriphile (Whom for the Theft I wedded) stole these Children Vpon my Banishment: I moou'd her too't, Hauing receyu'd the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie, Excited me to Treason. Their deere losse, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd Vnto my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir, Heere are your Sonnes againe, and I must loose Two of the sweet'st Companions in the World.

The benediction of these couering Heauens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthie To in-lay Heauen with Starres

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st: The Seruice that you three haue done, is more Vnlike, then this thou tell'st. I lost my Children, If these be they, I know not how to wish A payre of worthier Sonnes