A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't her As chaste as unsunn'd snow:-O, all the devils;- 509 All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows, They are not constant, but are changing still Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit. ACT ACT III. SCENE 1. : CYMBELINE'S Palace. Enter, in State, CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one Door; and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS, and Attendants. Cymbeline. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us? Is left untender'd. Queen. And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever. Clot. There be many Cæsars, ; A world by itself; and we will nothing pay Queen. That opportunity, Which then they had to take from us, to resume The natural bravery of your isle; which stands 20 With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; quest Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame (The first that ever touch'd him) he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping (Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: For joy whereof, The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point (O, giglet fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage. 30 Clot. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid : Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crook'd noses; but, to own such strait arms, none. Cym. Son, let your mother end. 41 Clot. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say, I am one; but I have a hand-Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. Cym. You must know, 'Till the injurious Roman did extort 50 This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambi tion (Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar chise, 60 Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain, which did put Luc. I am sorry, Cymbeline, Receive it from me then:-War, and confusion, 70 Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. That 80 That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Luc. Let proof speak. Clot. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day, or two, or longer: If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is your's; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end. Luc. So, sir. go Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine: All the remain is, welcome. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Room. Enter PISANIO. Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monsters her accuse-Leonatus! O, master! what a strange infection Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian |