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SCENE V.
Faustus and Imogen enter.Faust.
We have crost the public paths, and, now, are past
All risque of further question.
Imog.
Stay thee, Faustus.
This is a gloomy place—I feel my senses
Seiz'd with I know not what of sudden horror!—
Where is my lord, where is my Leonatus?
Didst thou not say?—Why pales thy colour, man?
Why dost thou look with that stern pity on me?—
What dost thou search and feel for?
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Nothing, mistress—
Be not alarm'd!—Where left you that same bracelet,
Which my fond master, on his nuptial night,
Bound to you with his troth?
Imog.
Alas, good Faustus,
Even all the gems that light my father's crown,
I'd give for its redemption. Late, last night,
I pray'd, and thought upon my love, and wept;
And kiss'd that holy relick of his faith,
And dreamt of him till morning—when awaking,
I found my arm was worthless!
Faust.
O, beware,
It be not gone to tell my lord strange tales
Of woman's breach of faith!
Imog.
How, Faustus! No—
My honour sits above the blast of slander;
And, like the top of Atlas, bears a Heaven
Upon a mount of snow.—I do assure thee,
Had I been born in any age, save that
In which my Leonatus won my soul,
With graces all his own, I should have died
The votary of Dian.
Faust.
Pardon, mistress!—
Know you one Clodio?
Imog.
A Roman, is he not?—He brought me letters
From my heart's master.
Faust.
That same Clodio, lady—
Did you admit him to your chamber?
Imog.
How!—
Thou dost amaze me, Faustus. Save the time
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I never met, nor mark'd him.
Faust.
By the gods,
Within this hour, these eyes—the amazed eyes
Even of your Leonatus—saw that bracelet
In Clodio's boastful hand! Nay, he did quote
Each sure memorial of your bedchamber—
Described your midnight scene of wanton dalliance,
With such leud deeds, as would have turn'd to shame
A face of solid bronze.—He stript you, lady;
And gave to record such peculiar notes,
Found on your precious body, as a chaste one
Would not deliver to the settled gaze
Of a loved consort.
Imog.
Oh—
[Faints.
Faust.
The swoon of death is on her!—O sole flower,
Of Britain's summer! hast thou vanish'd, then,
So sudden?—Tongue accurs'd!—No need of steel
For murder, here—the very touch of shame
Hath cut her thread of life!—O Imogen—
Awake, sweet mistress!—beggar not the world
With loss of all its worth.—I will maintain it,
Against ten thousand villains, such as Clodio,
Tho' champion'd to the teeth, that thou art wrong'd.
What proofs can front that purity of face—
The book, where Heaven, in characters divine,
Hath writ down truth and honour?—She recovers.
Imog.
Away, and let me die.
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Cheer you, my royal lady; cheer, sweet mistress!—
You are injured—by the gods, you are—I know it.
Some traitorous machination, deep as hell—
And there I'll dive, but I will bottom it!
Look up, transcendent Imogen, nor cloud
The face of Heaven with grief!—
Tell me, my spotless, my thrice honour'd lady,
Did you not take some presents, at the hand
Of that damn'd Clodio?
Imog.
No.
Faust.
Rich robes, and gems
Of oriental lustre?—
Imog.
Nothing of them.—
He spoke indeed of matters sent, by Cæsar,
To me and to my lord; and pray'd I'd take
The coffer that contain'd them, for one night,
Into safe custody.
Faust.
A coffer, mistress?—
A coffer!—was it large?
Imog.
The men, who bore it,
Bent at the burden.
Faust.
Certain—it is so!—
I have found him, deep as Erebus—the fiend!—
Curs'd Clodio, ruthless, ravening hound of hell!
There shall be blood for this—a number'd pang
For every pang that we have felt.
O, my deceived, distracted, happy master!
O injured innocence, sweet Imogen,
Blest, precious mistress!—O the gods, the gods,
Blest be the gods for this!
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Why dost thou weep,
Good Faustus?
Faust.
O! for joy, for joy, to find
That you are safe, and spotless—
Even as a chrystal vase, intire, and clear,
No flaw nor stain throughout.—Come, dearest lady.
I will entrust you to revering hands,
The priestess of Andate's neighbouring temple.—
Then, to my lord, with the most rapturous tidings
That ever blest his ear!
[Exeunt.
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