Of whom he had this ring, Post. What's that to him? [Aside. Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. Cym. How! me? Iach. I am glad to be constrain'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 sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail3 to remember,-Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength : I had rather thou should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive 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 Posthumus, (What should I say? he was too good, to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all 1 3 Sink into dejection. Among'st the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving, (Most like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover,) took his hint; And, not dispraising whom he prais'd, (therein His mistress picture; which by his tongue being made, Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots. Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose. Iach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins. He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch! In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it By wounding his belief in her renown Post. Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward. Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, For torturers ingenious: it is I That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend, That kill'd thy daughter :-villain-like, I lie ; A sacrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hearPost. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. Pis. [Striking her: she falls. O, gentlemen, help, help Mine, and your mistress :-O, my lord Posthúmus ! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!Mine honour'd lady! Cym. Does the world go round? Wake, my mistress? Post. How come these staggers on me? Pis. 1 Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. Pis. How fares my mistress? Imo. O, get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. Pis. Lady, The tune of Imogen! The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 4 Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself. A precious thing; I had it from the queen. Imo. Cor. It poison'd me. O Gods! I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat. Cym. What's this, Cornelius ? Cor. The queen, sir, very oft impórtun'd me Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it? There was our error. Gui. This is sure, Fidele. My boys, Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think, that you are upon a rock; and now |