Page 444 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4
P. 444
CYMBELINE
Thou basest thing, avoid hence, from my sight!
If after this command thou fraught the court
Whith thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!
Thou’rt poison to my blood.
POSTHUMUS
The gods protect you,
And bless the good remainders of the court! [60]
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, [65]
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
