CYMBELINE.
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
BELARIUS.
This is he,
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
It was wise nature’s end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE.
O, what am I?
A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother
Rejoic’d deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
IMOGEN.
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker! You call’d me brother,
When I was but your sister: I you brothers,
When we were so indeed.
CYMBELINE.
Did you e’er meet?
ARVIRAGUS.
Ay, my good lord.
GUIDERIUS.
And at first meeting lov’d,
Continu’d so until we thought he died.
CORNELIUS.
By the Queen’s dram she swallow’d.
CYMBELINE.
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv’d you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded,
And all the other by-dependances,
From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place
Will serve our long interrogatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
[To Belarius.] Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee ever.
IMOGEN.
You are my father too, and did relieve me
To see this gracious season.