You must begone;

And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Post. My queen! my mistress!

O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness,
Than doth become a man! I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Philario's ;
Who, to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.

Enter QUEEN.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you ;

If the king come, I shall incur I know not

How much of his displeasure:-Yet, I'll move him

To walk this way; I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.

Post. Should we be taking leave

As long a term, as yet we have to live,

The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu!
Imog. Nay, stay a little:

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,

[Aside.

[Exit.

Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's :-take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,

When Imogen is dead.

Post. How!-how! another?

You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next,

With bonds of death!-Remain, remain thou here

[Putting on the Ring.

While sense can keep it on! And sweetest, fairest,
As I, my poor self, did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss; so, in our trifles,
I still win of you: For my sake, wear this;
It is a manacle of love; I'll place it

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm.

Upon this fairest prisoner.
Imog. O, the gods !-

When shall we see again?

Enter CYMBELINE and Two LORDS.

Post. Alack, the king!

Cym. Thou basest thing! avoid-hence, from my sight!

If, after this command, thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away!
Thou art poison to my blood!

Post. The gods protect you!

And bless the good remainders of the court !—

I am gone.

Imog. There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this is.—

Pisanio, go, and see your lord on board.

Cym. O, disloyal thing,

[Exit.

[Exit PISANIO.

That shouldst repair my youth! thou heapest many

A year's age on me.

Imog. I beseech you, sir,

Harm not yourself with your vexation! I

Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare

Subdues all pangs, all fears.

Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!

Imog. O bless'd, that I might not!

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne

A seat for baseness.

Imog. No; I rather added

A lustre to it.

Cym. O thou vile one!
Imog. Sir,

It is your fault, that I have lov'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my play-fellow and he is
A man, worth any woman; overbuys me,
Almost the sum he pays.

Cym. What, art thou mad?

Imog. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!-'Would
I were

A neatherd's daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son

Enter QUEEN.

Cym. Thou foolish thing!

They were again together: you have done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.

Queen. 'Beseech your patience:-Peace,

Dear lady daughter, peace;-Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort

Out of your best advice.

Cym. Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a-day; and, being aged,

Die of this folly.

[Exeunt CYMBELINE and the Two LORDS.

Queen. Fie! you must give way.

Enter PISANIO.

Here is your servant,

Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour,

He will remain so.

Pisanio. I humbly thank your highness.

Imog. Well, good Pisanio,

[Exit.

Thou saw'st thy lord on board?-What was the last

That he spake to thee?

Pisanio. "Twas "His queen, his queen !"
Imog. Then wav'd his handkerchief?
Pisanio. And kiss'd it, madam.

Imog. Senseless linen! happier therein than I!
And that was all?

Pisanio. No, madam; for so long

As he could make me with this eye, or ear,
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,-
How swift his ship.

Imog. Thou shouldst have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him.

Pisanio. Madam, so I did.

Imog. I would have broke mine eye-strings, crack'd them, but

To look upon him; till the diminution

Of space, had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air; and then

Have turn'd mine eye and wept.-But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?

Pisanio. Be assur'd, madam,

With his next vantage.

Imog. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours,

Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orisons, for then

I am in heaven for him; or, ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,

Shakes all our buds from growing.-See, the queenThose things I bid you do, get them despatch'd. [Exit. Pisanio. Madam, I shall.

Enter QUEEN, meeting CORNELIUS.

[Exit.

Queen. Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs?

Corn. Pleaseth your highness, ay:

[Gives the QUEEN a Phial.

But I beseech your grace, without offence,

My conscience bids me ask, wherefore you have
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds?
Queen. I do wonder, doctor,

Thou ask'st me such a question: Have I`not been
Thy pupil long?

I will try the forces

Of these thy compounds,

And apply

Allayments to their act; and by them gather
Their several virtues and effects.

[Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work; he's for his master,

And enemy to my son.

Enter PISANIO.

How now, Pisanio ?-Hark thee, a word.
Doctor, your service for this time is ended.
Corn. [Aside.] I do suspect you, madam;
But you shall do no harm.

I know her spirit,

And will not trust one of her malice with
A drug of such damn'd nature: Those, she has,
Will stupify, and dull the sense a while;

But there is

No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking up the spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd