Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our blest altars. Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward: let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march:
And in the temple of great Jupiter ...

Well
My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers,
Have laid most heavy ...

This hath some seeming.

Nobly doom'd!
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.

The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becomed this place, and graced
The thankings of a king.

All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.

O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the ...

Did you e'er meet?

O, what, am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.

Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service that you three have done is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children:
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.

How! my issue!

Nursing of my sons!

Take him hence:
The whole world shall not save him.

What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.

And thou shalt die for't.

Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?

Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.

I am sorry for thee:
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

He was a prince.

Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

O, she was nought; and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely: but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.

My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.

How now, my flesh, my child!
What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

What's this, Comelius?

New matter still?

The tune of Imogen!

If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.

Does the world go round?

Nay, nay, to the purpose.

I stand on fire:
Come to the matter.

My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

All that belongs to this.

How! me?

That diamond upon your finger, say
How came it yours?

Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud.
To IACHIMO
Sir, step you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.

Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.

Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?

Wherefore eyest him so?

What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more: think more and more
What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

I have surely seen him:
His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,
To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty ...

Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had
been vicious
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
And prove it in ...

Heard you all this, her women?

O most delicate fiend!
Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?

She alone knew this;
And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

Prithee, say.

Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?

Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies
There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the ...

To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward;
To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS
which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are. Report it.

No tidings of him?