Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is 160 now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. [Exit. Pis. Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee

Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed
Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE VI. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.

Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes.

Imo. I see a man's life is a tedious one:

I have tired myself, and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be

sick,

But that my resolution helps me.

Milford,

When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think
Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,
Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told

me

I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis

A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder,

10

7. Foundations, fixed places (with a play upon the sense: charitable establishments).

When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in

fulness

Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood

Is worse in kings than beggars.
Thou art one o' the false ones.

thee,

My dear lord!

Now I think on

My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
At point to sink for food. But what is this?
Here is a path to 't: 'tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll

enter.

Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy

But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look

on 't.

Such a foe, good heavens !

[Exit, to the cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. You, Polydore, have proved best woodman and

Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I

Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what 's homely savoury: weariness

12. To lapse in fulness, to be false in the midst of abundance. 17. for, for want of.

21. hardness, hardship.

23. civil, civilised.

24. Take or lend, take payment, or give me (food).

v. 48, where she would

20

30

'bought' or 'begged' the food.) The ellipse is harsh, and not quite clear; but Imogen's preoccupation with the thought of food makes it very natural.

(Cf.

have

27. Such a foe, i.e. send me such a foe!

28. woodman, hunter.

Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth

Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

Gui.

I am throughly weary.

Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.
Gui. There is cold meat i' the cave;

browse on that,

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

we 'll

Bel. [Looking into the cave] Stay; come not in. But that it eats our victuals, I should think

40

Here were a fairy.

Gui.

What's the matter, sir?

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! Behold divineness No elder than a boy!

Re-enter IMOGEN.

Imo. Good masters, harm me not:

Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought

To have begged or bought what I have took: good

troth,

I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had

found

Gold strew'd i' the floor.

meat:

Here's money for my

50

I would have left it on the board so soon

As I had made my meal, and parted

With prayers for the provider.

Gui.

Money, youth ?

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those

Who worship dirty gods.

Imo.

I see you're angry :

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

Have died had I not made it.

34. resty, lazy.

55. but of, except by.

Bel.

Imo. To Milford-Haven.

Bel. What's your name?

Whither bound?

Imo. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am fall'n in this offence.

Prithee, fair youth,

Bel.
Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
Ere you depart; and thanks to stay and eat it.
Boys, bid him welcome.

Gui.

60

Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty, 70

I bid for you as I'ld buy.

I'll make 't my comfort

Arv.
He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
And such a welcome as I 'ld give to him

After long absence, such is yours: most welcome!

Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

Imo.

If brothers.

they

'Mongst friends,

[Aside] Would it had been so, that

Had been my father's sons! then had my prize

Been less, and so more equal ballasting

To thee, Posthumus.

Bel.

He wrings at some distress.

Or I, whate'er it be, 80

Gui. Would I could free 't!
Arv.

What pain it cost, what danger. Gods!

That had a court no bigger than this cave,

That did attend themselves and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them-laying by
That nothing-gift of differing multitudes-
Could not out-peer these twain.

Pardon me, gods!

I'ld change my sex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus' false.

Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come

in:

Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,

So far as thou wilt speak it.

Gui.

Pray, draw near.

Arv. The night to the owl and morn to the

lark less welcome.

Imo. Thanks, sir.

Arv. I pray, draw near.

[Exeunt.

90

SCENE VII. Rome. A public place.

Enter two Senators and Tribunes.

First Sen. This is the tenour of the emperor's

writ:

That since the common men are now in action
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,

And that the legions now in Gallia are
Full weak to undertake our wars against
The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius proconsul: and to you the tribunes,

86. 'The worthless honour they receive from the unbalanced, incoherent, wavering

multitude.'

90. hunt, quarry.
7. gentry, the patricians.