Page 574 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

IACHIMO

Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

CYMBELINE
How? me? [140]

IACHIMO
I am glad to be constrain’d to utter that

Which torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; ’twas Leonatus’ jewel,
Whom thou didst banish: and − which more may grieve thee,
As it doth me, − a nobler sir ne’er lived [145]
’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

CYMBELINE

All that belongs to this.

IACHIMO

That paragon, thy daughter,
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember − Give me leave; I faint.

CYMBELINE
My daughter? what of her? Renew thy strength: [150]

I had rather thou shouldst live, while Nature will,
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

IACHIMO
Upon a time, unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour: it was in Rome, accurst
The mansion where: ’twas at a feast, O, would [155]

Our viands had been poison’d (or at least
Those which I heaved to head) the good Posthumus
(What should I say? he was too good to be

Where ill men were, and was the best of all
Amongst the rar’st of good ones) sitting sadly, [160]