Page 571 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Cannot deny: he hath done no Briton harm, [90]
Though he have serv’d a Roman. Save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.

CYMBELINE
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, [95]
To say, live boy: ne’er thank thy master, live;

And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I’ll give it:
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta’en.

IMOGEN
I humbly thank your highness. [100]

LUCIUS
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,

And yet I know thou wilt.

IMOGEN
No, no alack,
There’s other work in hand: I see a thing
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,

Must shuffle for itself.

LUCIUS
The boy disdains me, [105]
He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplex’d?

CYMBELINE
What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more: think more and more