Page 446 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Beseech your patience. Peace
Dear lady daughter, peace! − Sweet sovereign, [85]
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.

CYMBELINE
Nay, let her languish

A drop of blood a day, and being aged
Die of this folly.
[Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords.]

QUEEN
Fie! you must give way.

Enter Pisanio.
Here is your servant. How now, sir? What news? [90]

PISANIO
My Lord your son drew on my master.

QUEEN
Ha?
No harm I trust is done?

PISANIO
There might have been,

But that my master rather play’d than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.

QUEEN
I am very glad on’t. [95]

IMOGEN

Your son’s my father’s friend, he takes his part
To draw upon an exile. O brave sir!
I would they were in Afric both together,
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick