QUEEN.
No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win th’ 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 inform you.
POSTHUMUS.
Please your Highness,
I will from hence today.
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.]
IMOGEN.
O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing
(Always reserv’d my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes, not comforted to live
But that there is this jewel in the world
That I may see again.
POSTHUMUS.
My queen! my mistress!
O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man. I will remain
The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth;
My residence in Rome at one Philario’s,
Who to my father was a friend, to me
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.
Enter Queen.
QUEEN.
Be brief, I pray you.
If the King come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I’ll move him
To walk this way. I never do him wrong
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.
[Exit.]
POSTHUMUS.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!