CYMBELINE.
New matter still?
IMOGEN.
It poison’d me.
CORNELIUS.
O gods!
I left out one thing which the Queen confess’d,
Which must approve thee honest. ‘If Pisanio
Have’ said she ‘given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv’d
As I would serve a rat.’
CYMBELINE.
What’s this, Cornelius?
CORNELIUS.
The Queen, sir, very oft importun’d me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta’en would cease
The present pow’r of life, but in short time
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it?
IMOGEN.
Most like I did, for I was dead.
BELARIUS.
My boys,
There was our error.
GUIDERIUS.
This is sure Fidele.
IMOGEN.
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think that you are upon a rock, and now
Throw me again.
[Embracing him.]