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I honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king ? 1 Gent.
His only child. He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing, Mark it), the eldest of them at three years old, l'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? 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con
vey'd! So slackly guarded! And the search so slow, That could not trace them ! 1 Gent.
Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent.
I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the
queen and princess.
Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur’d, you shall not find me,
daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, Evil-eyed unto you: you are my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended king, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good, You lean’d unto his sentence, with what patience Your wisdom may
Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen.
You know the peril: I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections: though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together.
[Exit Queen. Imo.
My queen! my mistress!
Be brief, I pray you:
\ ' I say I do not fear my father, so far as I may say it without breach of duty.'
To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
Should we be taking leave
Imo. Nay, stay a little:
How! how! another?
-Remain, remain thou here
(Putting on the Ring. While sense
4 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 Upon this fairest prisoner.
[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. 2 • He gives me a valuable consideration in new kindness (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done him), in order to renew our amity, and make us friends again.'
3 Shakspeare poetically calls the cer e-cloths, in which the dead are wrapped, the bonds of death. There was no distinction in ancient orthography between seare, to dry, to wither; and seare, to dress or cover with wax. Cere-cloth is most frequently spelled seare-cloth. In Hamlet we have :
• Why, thy canonized bones hearsed in death
Have barst their cerements.' i.e. while I have sensation to retain it. There can be no doubt that it refers to the ring, and it is equally obvious that thee would have been more proper. Whether this error is to be laid to the poet's charge or to that of careless printing, it would not be easy to decide. Malone, however, has shown that there are many passages in these plays of equally loose construction.
I am gone.
0, the gods! When shall we see again?
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. Post.
Alack, the king !
The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court !
O disloyal thing,
I beseech you, sir,
your wrath; a touch more rare? Subdues all pangs, all fears.
5 i.e. renovate my youth, make me young again. “To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the first state, to renew.' So in All's Well that Ends Well:
it much repairs me
To talk of your good father.' 6 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads:
thou heapest many
A year's age on me!' Some such emendation seems necessary.
7. A touch more rare' is' a more exquisite feeling, a superior sensation. So in The Tempest:
• Hast thou which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions.'
• The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
Do strongly speak to us.'
where the greater malady is fix'd,
Past grace? obedience ? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past
grace. Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my
queen! Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an
eagle, And did avoid a puttock 8.
Cym. Thou took’st a beggar; would'st have made
A seat for baseness.
No; I rather added
Cym. O thou vile one!
What !--art thou mad? Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me!--'Would
Re-enter Queen. Cym.
Thou foolish thing !They were again together you have done
[To the Queen. Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up.
Queen. 'Beseech your patience :-Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace; Sweet sovereign,
8. A puttock is a mean degenerate species of hawk, too worthless to deserve training.
9. My worth is not half equal to his.'