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The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war,

A pain that only feems to feek out danger

I'the name of fame, and honour; which dies i'the fearch; And hath as oft a flanderous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many times,

Doth ill deferve by doing well; what's worse,
Muft court'fy at the cenfure :-O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,

Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one night,
A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will,

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

GUI. Uncertain favour!

BEL. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft) But that two villains, whofe falfe oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans: fo,

Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years, This rock, and these demefnes, have been my world: Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; pay'd

More pious debts to heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains ;
This is not hunters' language :-Hè, that strikes

The venison firft, fhall be the lord o'the feaft;
To him the other two fhall minifter;

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater ftate. I'll meet you in the valleys.

[Exeunt GUI. and ARV. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature! VOL. V.

Gg

These boys know little, they are fons to the king;
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

[meanly
They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus
I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In fimple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,—
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius,-Jove!
When on my three-foot ftool I fit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story say,-Thus mine enemy fell ;
And thus I fet my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal,
(Once, Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,

Strikes life into my speech, and fhows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!—
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my confcience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,

At three, and two years old, I ftole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of fucceffion, as

Thou reft'ft me of my lands. Euriphile,

Thou waft their nurfe; they took thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to her grave:

Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is

up. [Exit.

SCENE IV. Near Milford-Haven.

Enter PISAN10 and IMOGEN.

IMO. Thou told'st me, when we came from horfe, the place Was near at hand :-Ne'er long'd my mother so

To fee me firft, as I have now :-Pifanio! Man!
Where is Pofthúmus? What is in thy mind,

That makes thee ftare thus? Wherefore breaks that figh
From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

Beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Into a 'haviour of lefs fear, ere wildness

Vanquish my ftaider fenfes. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be fummer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st

But keep that countenance ftill.-My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at fome hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue
May take off fome extremity, which to read

Would be even mortal to me.

PIS. Please you, read;

And

you fhall find me, wretched man, a thing The most difdain'd of fortune.

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IMO. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pifanio, hath play'd the ftrumpet in my bed; the teftimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. Speak not out of weak furmises; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pifanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away ber life: I shall give thee opportunities at Milford-Haven: she my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to ftrike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her difbonour, and equally to me difloyal.

bath

paper

PIs. What fhall I need to draw my fword? the Hath cut her throat already.-No, 'tis flander; Whofe edge is sharper than the sword; whofe tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whofe breath

Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and ftates,
Maids, matrons, nay, the fecrets of the grave
This viperous flander enters. What cheer, madam?
IMO. Falfe to his bed! What is it, to be false?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?

Το

weep 'twixt clock and clock? if fleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake? that's falfe to his bed? Is it ?

PIS. Alas, good lady!

IMO. I falfe? Thy confcience witness :-Iachimo, Thou didst accufe him of incontinency;

Thou then look'dft like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough.-Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am ftale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,

I must be ripp'd :—to pieces with me !—O,

Men's vows are women's traitors! All good feeming,

By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought

Put on for villainy; not born, where't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.

PIS. Good madam, hear me.

IMO. True honeft men being heard, like falfe Eneas, Were, in his time, thought falfe and Sinon's weeping Did fcandal many a holy tear; took pity

From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Pofthúmus,
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men ;

Goodly, and gallant, fhall be falfe, and perjur'd,
From thy great fail.-Come, fellow, be thou honest :
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou fee’st him,
A little witness my obedience: Look!

I draw the fword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent manfion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy mafter is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it: Do his bidding; ftrike.
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause ;
But now thou feem'ft a coward.

PIs. Hence, vile inftrument!

Thou shalt not damn my

IMO. Why, I muft die;

hand.

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No fervant of thy mafter's: Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition fo divine,

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart; Something's afore't :-Soft, foft; we'll no defence; Obedient as the fcabbard. What is here?

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The fcriptures of the loyal Leonatus,

All turn'd to herefy? Away, away,

Corrupters of my faith! you fhall no more

Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe falfe teachers: Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treafon fharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worfe cafe of woe.

And thou, Pofthúmus, thou that did'ft fet up
My difobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the fuits
Of princely fellows, fhalt hereafter find
It is no act of common paffage, but
A ftrain of rareness: and I grieve myself,
To think, when thou fhalt be difedg'd by her
That now thou tir'ft on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, defpatch:
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife?

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