CYMBELINE
Page: 4

As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!

IMOGEN.
Nay, stay a little.
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
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.

POSTHUMUS.
How, how! another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And cere 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
Upon this fairest prisoner.

[Putting a bracelet upon her arm.]

IMOGEN.
O the gods!
When shall we see again?

[Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS.]

POSTHUMUS.
Alack, the King!

CYMBELINE.
Thou basest thing, avoid! Hence, from my sight!
If after this command thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!
Thou'rt poison to my blood.

POSTHUMUS.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.

[Exit.]

IMOGEN.
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.

CYMBELINE.
O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
A year's age on me!

IMOGEN.
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.

CYMBELINE.
Past grace? obedience?

IMOGEN.
Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace.

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

IMOGEN.
O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.

CYMBELINE.
Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
A seat for baseness.

IMOGEN.
No; I rather added
A lustre to it.

CYMBELINE.
O thou vile one!

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

CYMBELINE.