2 Gent. None but the king? 1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, That most desir'd the match: But not a courtier, 2 Gent. And why so ? 20 1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her (I mean, that marry'd her-alack, good man!And therefore banish'd), is a creature such, As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think, So fair an outward, and such stuff within, Endows a man but he. 2 Gent. You speak him far. 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? १० 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour, 40 Dy'd Dy'd with their swords in hand: for which, their father (Then old and fond of issue) took such sorrow, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. I honour him But, pray you, tell me, Even out of your report. 1 Gent. His only child. He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing, 50 60 I' the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen; and to this hour, no guess in knowledge Which way they went. 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 2 1 Gent. 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 70 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con vey'd ! So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, 1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the gentle man, The queen, and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, IMOGEN, and At tendants. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter, 80 After the slander of most step-mothers, Post. Post. Please your highness. I will from hence to-day. go • Queen. You know the peril :- His rage can do on me: You must be gone; 100 And I shall here abide the hourly shot That I may see again. Post. My queen! my mistress! 110 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. Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you : If the king come, I shall incur I know not How How much of his displeasure :-Yet I'll move him To walk this way: I never do him wrong, Post. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, Were you but riding forth to air yourself, [Aside. [Exit. 121 Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; When Imogen is dead. Post. How! how! another?-- 130 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 you 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 |