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 be 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 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 nurselike. 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 favor 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.