o had stolen them away.

The Roman general was the first who spoke; the rest stood silent before
the king, though there was many a beating heart among them.

Imogen saw Posthumus, and knew him, though he was in the disguise of a
peasant; but he did not know her in her male attire; and she knew
Iachimo, and she saw a ring on his finger which she perceived to be her
own, but she did not know him as yet to have been the author of all her
troubles: and she stood before her own father a prisoner of war.

Pisanio knew Imogen, for it was he who had dressed her in the garb of a
boy. 'It is my mistress,' thought he; 'since she is living, let the
time run on to good or bad.' Bellarius knew her too, and softly said to
Cadwal: 'Is not this boy revived from death?' 'One sand,' replied
Cadwal, 'does not more resemble another than that sweet rosy lad is
like the dead Fidele.' 'The same dead thing alive,' said Polydore.
'Peace, peace,' said Bellarius; 'if it were he, I am sure he would have
spoken to us.' 'But we saw him dead,' again whispered Polydore. 'Be
silent,' replied Bellarius.

Posthumus waited in silence to hear the welcome sentence of his own
death; and he resolved not to disclose to the king that he had saved
his life in the battle, lest that should move Cymbeline to pardon him.

Lucius, the Roman general, who had taken Imogen under his protection as
his page, was the first (as has been before said) who spoke to the
king. He was a man of high courage and noble dignity, and this was his
speech to the king:

'I hear you take no ransom for your prisoners, but doom them all to
death: I am a Roman, and with a Roman heart will suffer death. But
there is one thing for which I would entreat.' Then bringing Imogen
before the king, he said: 'This boy is a Briton born. Let him be
ransomed. He is my page. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous,
so diligent on all occasions, so true, so nurse-like. He hath done no
Briton wrong, though he hath served a Roman. Save him, if you spare no
one beside.'

Cymbeline looked earnestly on his daughter Imogen. He knew her not in
that disguise; but it seemed that all-powerful Nature spake in his
heart, for he said: 'I have surely seen him, his face appears familiar
to me. I know not why or wherefore I say, Live, boy; but I give you
your life, and ask of me what boon you will, and I will grant it you.
Yea, even though it be the life of the noblest prisoner I have.'

'I humbly thank your h