is
A man worth any woman; overbuys me,
Almost the sum he pays.
Compare also, as examples of the most delicate discrimination of
character and feeling, the parting scene between Imogen and Posthumus,
that between Romeo and Juliet, and that between Troilus and Cressida:
compare the confiding matronly tenderness, the deep but resigned sorrow
of Imogen, with the despairing agony of Juliet, and the petulant grief
of Cressida.
When Posthumus is driven into exile, he comes to take a last farewell of
his wife:--
IMOGEN.
My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing
(Always reserved my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone,
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes: not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world
That I may see again.
POSTHUMUS.
My queen! my mistress!
O, lady, weep no more! lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man. I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth
* * * *
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow--Adieu!
IMOGEN.
Nay, stay a little:
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love,
This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead!
Imogen, in whose tenderness there is nothing jealous or fantastic, does
not seriously apprehend that her husband will woo another wife when she
is dead. It is one of those fond fancies which women are apt to express
in moments of feeling, merely for the pleasure of hearing a protestation
to the contrary. When Posthumus leaves her, she does not burst forth in
eloquent lamentation; but that silent, stunning, overwhelming sorrow,
which renders the mind insensible to all things else, is represented
with equal force and simplicity.
IMOGEN.
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
CYMBELINE.
O disloyal thing,
That should'st repair my youth; thou heapeat
A year's age on me!
IMOGEN.
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