LITMIR.BIZ

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giue me but this I haue,

       And seare vp my embracements from a next,

       With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,

       While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,

       As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for you

       To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles

       I still winne of you. For my sake weare this,

       It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place it

       Vpon this fayrest Prisoner

       Imo. O the Gods!

       When shall we see againe?

       Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.

       Post. Alacke, the King Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight:

       If after this command thou fraught the Court

       With thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest. Away,

       Thou’rt poyson to my blood

       Post. The Gods protect you,

       And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:

       I am gone

       Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death

       More sharpe then this is

       Cym. O disloyall thing,

       That should’st repayre my youth, thou heap’st

       A yeares age on mee

       Imo. I beseech you Sir,

       Harme not your selfe with your vexation,

       I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rare

       Subdues all pangs, all feares

       Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?

       Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace

       Cym. That might’st haue had

       The sole Sonne of my Queene

       Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,

       And did auoyd a Puttocke

       Cym. Thou took’st a Begger, would’st haue made my

       Throne, a Seate for basenesse

       Imo. No, I rather added a lustre to it Cym. O thou vilde one!

       Imo. Sir,

       It is your fault that I haue lou’d Posthumus:

       You bred him as my Playfellow, and he is

       A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee

       Almost the summe he payes

       Cym. What? art thou mad?

       Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were

       A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus

       Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.

       Enter Queene.

       Cym. Thou foolish thing;

       They were againe together: you haue done

       Not after our command. Away with her,

       And pen her vp

       Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace

       Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne,

       Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfort

       Out of your best aduice

       Cym. Nay, let her languish

       A drop of blood a day, and being aged

       Dye of this Folly.

       Enter.

       Enter Pisanio.

       Qu. Fye, you must giue way:

       Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?

       Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master

       Qu. Hah?

       No harme I trust is done?

       Pisa. There might haue beene,

       But that my Master rather plaid, then fought,

       And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted

       By Gentlemen, at hand

       Qu. I am very glad on’t

       Imo. Your Son’s my Fathers friend, he takes his part

       To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir,

       I would they were in Affricke both together,

       My selfe by with a Needle, that I might pricke

       The goer backe. Why came you from your Master?

       Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee

       To bring him to the Hauen: left these Notes

       Of what commands I should be subiect too,

       When’t pleas’d you to employ me

       Qu. This hath beene

       Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour

       He will remaine so

       Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse

       Qu. Pray walke a-while

       Imo. About some halfe houre hence,

       Pray you speake with me;

       You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord.

       For this time leaue me.

       Exeunt.

      SCENE III.

       Enter Clotten, and two Lords.

       1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There’s none abroad so wholesome as that you vent

       Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.

       Haue I hurt him?

       2 No faith: not so much as his patience

       1 Hurt him? His bodie’s a passable Carkasse if he bee

       not hurt. It is a throughfare for Steele if it be not hurt

       2 His Steele was in debt, it went o’th’ Backe-side the

       Towne

       Clot. The Villaine would not stand me

       2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face

       1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:

       But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground

       2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)

       Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs

       2 So would I, till you had measur’d how long a Foole

       you were vpon the ground

       Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refuse

       mee

       2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn’d

       1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine go not together. Shee’s a good signe, but I haue seene small reflection of her wit

       2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection

       Should hurt her

       Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had

       beene some hurt done

       2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse,

       which is no great hurt

       Clot. You’l go with vs?

       1 Ile attend your Lordship

       Clot. Nay come, let’s go together

       2 Well my Lord.

       Exeunt.

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