r 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 highness," said Imogen.

What was then called granting a boon was the same as a promise to give
any one thing, whatever it might be, that the person on whom that favour
was conferred chose to ask for. They all were attentive to hear what
thing the page would ask for; and Lucius her master said to her, "I do
not beg my life, good lad, but I know that is what you will ask
for."--"No, no, alas!" said Imogen, "I have other work in hand, good
master; your life I cannot ask for."

This seeming want of gratitude in the boy astonished the Roman general.

Imogen then, fixing her eye on Iachimo, demanded no other boon than
this: that Iachimo should be made to confess whence he had the ring he
wore on his finger.

Cymbeline granted her this boon, and threatened Iachimo with the torture
if he did not confess how he came by the diamond ring on his finger.

Iachimo then made a full acknowledgment of all his villany, telling, as
has been before related, the whole story of his wager with Posthumus,
and how he had succeeded in imposing upon his credulity.

What Posthumus felt at hearing this proof of the innocence of his lady
cannot be expressed. He instantly came forward, and confessed to
Cymbeline the cruel sentence which he had enjoined Pisanio to execute
upon the princess; exclaiming wildly, "O Imogen, my queen, my life, my
wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!"

Imogen could not see her beloved husband in this distress without
discovering herself, to the unutterable joy of Posthumus, who was thus
relieved from a weight of guilt and woe, and restored to the good graces
of the dear lady he had so cruelly treated.

Cymbeline, almost as much overwhelmed as he with joy, at finding his
lost daughter so strangely recovered, received her to her former place
in his fatherly affection, and not only gave her husband Posth