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His head from him. I'll throw it into the creek Might easiliest harbour in? — Thou blessed thing!
Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,

Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; buti,
And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten: Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy!-
That's all I reck.

(Exit. How found you him? Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng’d:

Arv. Stark, as you see. 'Would, Polydore, thou had’st not done?!though va- Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, lour

Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right check
Becomes thee well enough.

Reposing on a cushion.
Arv. 'Would I had done't,

Gui. Where?
So the revenge alone pursued me!-- Polydore, Arv. O'the floor;
I love thee brotherly; but envy much,

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept : and pat
Thou hast robb’d me of this deed: I would, revenges, My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
That possible strength might meet, would seck us Answer'd niy steps too loud.

Gui. Why, he but sleeps :
And put us to our answer.

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
Bel. Well, 'tis done!

With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger And worms will not come to thee.
Where there's no profit. I pry’thee, to our rock, Arv. With fairest flowers,
Yon and Fidele play the cooks; I'll stay

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thon shalt not lack
To dinner presently,

The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; por Arv. Poor sick Fidele!

The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor l'll willingly to him: to gain his colour,

The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,

Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock would,
And praise myself for charity.

(Exit. With charitable bill (o bill, sore-shaming
Bel. O thou goddess,

Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st Without a monument !) bring thee all this;
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

To winter-ground thy corse !
Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, Gui. Pry’thee have done!
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, And do not play in wench-like words with that
That by the top doth take the mountain pine, Which is so serious. Let us bury him,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful, And not protract with admiration what
That an invisible instinct should frame them Is now due debt. - To the grave!
To royalty unlearn'd; honoar untaught;

drv. Say, where shall's lay him ?
Civility not seen from other; valour,

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother.
That wildly grows in them, bat yields a crop Arv. Be't so!
As if it had been sow'd ! Yet still it's strange, And let us, Polydore, thongh now our voices
What Cloten's being here to us portends;

Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
Or what his death will bring us.

As once our mother; use like note, and words,
Re-enter GuideriOS.

Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
Gui. Where's my brother?

Gui. Cadwal,
I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream, I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thje :
In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
For his return.

(Solemn music. Than priests and fanes that lie.
Bel. My ingenious instrument!

Arv. We'll speak it then.
Hark,,Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark! Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
Gui. Is he at home?

And, though he came our enemy, remember,
Bel. He went hence even now.

lie was paid for that: thongh mean and mighty, rotting
Gui. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st Together, have one dust; yet reverence,

(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
It did not speak before. All solemn things of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?. And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys, Yet bary him as a prince.
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither.!
Is Cadwal mad ?

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
Re-enter ArvinaGUS, bearing Imogen, as dead, in When neither are alive!

Arv. If you'll go fetch him,
Pel. Look, here he comes,

We'll say our song the whilst. - Brother, begin!
And brings the dire occasion in his arms,

(L'zit Belaries; Of what we blame him for!

Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east.
Ary. The bird is dead,

My father hath a reason for't.
That we have made so much on. I had rather Arv. 'Tis true.
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, Gui. Come on then, and remove him !
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, Arv. So, -- begin!
Than have seen this.

Gui. O sweetest, fairest

Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun,
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,

Nor the furious winter's ruges ;
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Bel. O, melancholy !

IIome art gone, and ta'en thy wages :
Who ever yet could sound thy boltom?: find

Golden lads and girls all must,
The ooze, to slow what coast thy sluggish crare

As chimney-sweepers, come to dirst.


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Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend! Thaa thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me!

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strep't

Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great, Give colour to my pale check with thy blood,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; That we the horrider may seem to those
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

Which chance to find us; 0, my lord, my lord !
To thee the reed is as the oak:

Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and The sceptre, learning, physic, must

a Soothsayer. All follow this, and come to dust.

Cup. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, Gai. Fear no more the lightning flash,

After your will, have cross'd the sea: attending Arv, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

You here at Milford - Hlaven, with your ships: Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash:

They are bere in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome?
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan;
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Cap. The senate hath stirr'd ap the cónfiners,
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,

That promise noble service; and they come
Gai. No exorciser harm thee!

Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Sienna's brother.
Gui. Ghost unlaid furbear thee !

Luc. When expect you them?
Arv.. Nothing ill come near thee!
Bothe Quiet consummation have;

Cap. With the next benefit o'the wind.
And renowned be thy grave!

Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Re-enter Belarus, with the body of Clotex. Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.— Now, sir, Gui. We have done our obsequies. Come lay him What have you dream’d, of late, of this war's purpose

? down.

Sooth. Last night the very gods slow'd me a vision:
Bel. Here's a few flowers; but about midnight, more. '(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus:--
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night, I saw Jove's bird, tle Roman eagle, wiog'd
Are strewings fitt’st for graves.-Upon their faces :-- From the spongy south to this part of the west,
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends,
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.- (Unless my sins abuse my divination)
Come on, away! apart upon your knees.

Success to the Roman host.
The ground, that gave them firs, has them again: Luc. Dreain often so,
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. And never false. -- Soft, ho! what trunk is here

[Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime
Imo. ( Awaking.) Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven! Which It was a worthy building. - How! a page!--
is the the way?-

Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather:
I thank you ! --By yon bush?— Pray, how far thither? For nature doth abhor to make his bed
'Ods pittikins! - can it be six miles yet? With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. -
I have gone all night. —-Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. 'Let's see the boy's face.
But, soft! no bedfellow! – 0, gods and goddesses!, Cap. He is alive, my lord!

(Seeing the body. Luc.He'll then instructus of this body.--Yonbg ore,
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; Inform us of thy fortunes; for it seems,
This bloody man the care on't. I hope, I dream; They crave to be demanded: Who is this.
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

Thon mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
And cook to honest creatures : but 'tis not so; That, otherwise than noble nature did,
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, What art thou?
I tremble still with fear: but if there be

Imo. I am nothing; or if not,
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity, Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!

A very valiant Briton, and a good,
The dream's here still: even when I make, it is That here by mountaineers lies slain: - alas,
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. There are no more such masters: 1 may
A headless man !- The garments of Posthumus! From sast to occident, cry out for service,
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand; Try many, all good, serve truly, never
His foot Mercurial ; his Martial thigh :

Find such another master.
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face Luc. 'Lack, good youth!
Murder in heaven? – How? —'tis gone!-Pisanio, Thon mov'st

' no less with thy complaining, than
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Imo. Richard du Chan

If I do lie, and do
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Clotea, No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope (tsida
Hast here cut off my lord. - To write, and read, They'll pardon it. Say you, sir ?
Be henceforth treacherous !-Damn'd Pisanio Luc. Thy name?
Hath with his forged letters, — damn'a Pisaniom Imo. Fidele,
From this most bravest vessel of the world

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same
Strack the main-top!--O Posthumus ! alas,

Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! Where's Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, that?

Thou shalt be so well master'd; but be sure,
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, No less belor'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
And left this head on. – How should this be? Pisanio? Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner,
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
And cordial to me, have I not found it

As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! 0!-


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And on it said a century of prayers,

Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer’d. Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh,

[Exit. And, leaving so his service, follow you,

SCENE IV.- Before the cave.
So please you entertain me.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and ArviragUS.
Luc. Ay, good youth !

Gui. The noise is round about us.
And rather father thee, than master thee!-

Bel. Let us from it.
My friends,

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
The boy hath taught us many duties. Let as

From action and adventure!
Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can,

Gui. Nay, what hope
And make him with our pikes and partisans

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans
A grave: come, arm him! - Boy, he is prefer'd

Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
By thee to as; and he shall be interr'd,

For barbarous and unnatural revolts
As soldiers can. Be cheerful! wipe thine eyes!
Some falls are means the happierto arise ! [Éxeunt. During their use, and slay us after.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. SCENE III. – A room in CYMBELINE's palace.

To the king's party there's no going : newness
Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.

Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd
Cym. Again! and bring me word, how 'tis with her! Among the bands) may drive us to a render
A fever with the absence of her son;

Where we have liv'd ; and so extort from us
A madness, of which her life's in danger:- Heavens, That which we've done, whose answer would be death
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, Drawn on with torture.
The great part of my comfort, gone! my queen Gui. This is, sir, a doubt,
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time,

In such a time, nothing becoming you,
When fearful wars point at me! her son gone, Nor satisfying us.
So needful for this present! It strikes me, past

Arv. It is not likely,
The hope of comfort. — But for thee, fellow,

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Who needs must know of her departure, and

Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee

And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
By a sharp torture.

That they will waste their time upon our note,
Pis. Sir, my life is yours,

To know from whence we are.
I humbly set it at your will : but, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,

Bel. O, I am known
Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your of many in the army: many years,

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
Hold me your loyal servant !

From my remembrance. And, besides, the king 1 Lord. Good my liege,

Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ;
The day that she was missing, he was here. Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
All parts of his subjection loyally.

To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
For Cloten,

But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
There wants no diligence in seeking him,

The shrinking slaves of winter.
And will, no doubt, be found.

Gui. Than be so,
Cym. The time's troublesome:

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army!
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealonsy I and my brother are not known; yourself,

[To Pisanio. So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Does yet depend.

Cannot be question'd.
1 Lord. So please your majesty,

Arv. By this sun that shines,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,

l'll thither! What thing is it, that I never
Are landed on your coast; with a supply

Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood,
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen! Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
I am amaz'd with matter.

A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
1 Lord. Good my liege,

Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
Your preparation can affront no less,

To look upon the holy sun, to have
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're the benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining

So long a poor unknown.
The want is, but to put those powers

in motion,
That long to move.

Gui. By heavens, I'll go!
Cym. I thank you! Let's withdraw;

If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not

I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
What can from Italy annoy us; but

The hazard therefore due fall on me, by

The hands of Romans !
We grieve at chances here. — Away! [Exeunt.
Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since

Arv, So say I; Amen!
I wrote him, Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange :

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise

So slight a valuation, should reserve
To yield me often tidings : neither know I My crack'd one to more care. Have with

you, boys! What is betid to Cloten; but remain

If in your country wars you chance to die, Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work: That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true. Lead, lead! The time sæms long; their blood These present wars shall find I love my country,

thinks scorn,

[Aside. Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them. Till it fly out, and show them princes born. [Exeunt. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:

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Gods! if you

Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends

Jach. 'Tis their fresh supplies.

Luc. It is a day taru'd strangely: or betimes
SCENE I. – A field between the British and Roman Let's re-enforce, or fly!

(Exeunt. camps. Enter Postitve's, with a bloody handkerchief; SCENE III. – Another part of the field. Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd Enter Posthuyts, and a British Lord. Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the If each of you would take this course, low many stand? Must murder wives much better than themselves, Post. I did: For wrying but a little! - 0, Pisanio!

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Every good servant does not all commands:

Lord. I did. No bond, but to do just ones.

Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, Should have ta’en vengeance on my faults, I never Put that the heavens fought. The king himself Had liv'd to put on this: so had you saved Of his wings destitute, the army broken, The noble Imogen to repent; and struck

And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. Put, alack! Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, You snatch some hence for little fanits; that's love, Lolling the tongne with slaughtering, having work To have them fall no more: you some permit

More plentiful, than tools to do't, struck down To second ills with ills, each elder worse; Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.

Merely through fear; that the straight pass was But Imogen is your own. Do your best wills,

damm'a And make me bless'd to obey ! - I am brought hither With death men, hurt behind, and covards living Among the Italian gentry, and to fight

To die with lengthen'd slame. Against my lady's kingdom : 'tis enough,

Lord. Where was this lane? That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!

Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good hea turf; vens,

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, Hear patiently my purpose! I'll disrobe me

An honest one, I warrant; who desery'd Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself

So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, As does a Briton peasant! so I'll fight

In doing this for his country;

athwart the lane, Against the part I come with! so l'll die

He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life The country base, than to commit such slaughter; Is, every breath, a death! and thus, unknowo,

With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril

Than those for preservation cas’d, or shame, Myself I'll dedicate! Let me make men know

Made good the passage; cry'd to those that led, More valour in me, than my habits show!

Our Bricon's haris die flying, noe our men;
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'the world, Lwill begin

To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards. Stand! The fashion, less without, and more within! (Exit. Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may saray

Or we are Romans, and will give you that

But to look back in frown : stand, stund! – These
The same.

three, Enter, at one side, Lucius, lacuno, and the Ro- Three thousand confident, in act as many, man army; at the other side, the British army; (for three performers are the file, when all Leonatus Postitutes following it, like a poor sol- The rest do nothing.) with this word, stand, stanch dier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then Accommodated by the place, more charming, enter again, in skirmish, lacuino and PostuumUS; With their own nobleness, (which could have turn i he vanquisheth and disormeth lacuno, and then a distafl

' to a lance,) gilded pale looks, leaves him.

Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, tura'd lach. The leaviness and guilt within my bosom coward Takes oif my manhood: I have belied a lady, But by example, (0, a sir in war, The princess of this country, and the air on't Damn’d in the first beginners !) 'gan to look Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, The way that they did, and to grin like lions A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, Upon the pikes o'the hunters. Then began In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne A stop i'the chaser, a retire; anon, As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.

A rout, confusion thick. Forthwith, they fly If that thy gentry, Britain, go before

Chickens , the way which they stoop'd eagles i This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds

slaves, Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. The strides they victors made: and now ou

(Exit. cowards The battle continues; the Britons fly; Cymbeline (Like fragments in hard voyages,) became

is taken ; then enter, to his rescue, Belarus, Gui- The life o'the need; having found the back-door DERICS and ARVTRAGUS. Bel

. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they woord

ground; The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but O’er-borne i'the former 'wave: ten, chac'd by one, The villainy of our fears.

Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: Arv. Stand, stand, and fight!

Those, that would die or ere resist, are gropa
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons. They The mortal bugs o'the field.
rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then, enter Lucius, Lord. This was strange chance :
Lachino, and I nogex.

A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself! Post. Nay, do not wonder at it! You are made
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
As war were hood-wink'd.

Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon's,



And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:

Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, I cannot do it better, than in gyves,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane. Desir’d, more than constrain’d: to satisfy,
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir !

If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
Post. 'Lack, to what end?

No stricter render of me, than my all.
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend : I know, you are more clement, than vile men,
For if he'll do, as he is made to do,

Who of their broken debtors take a third,
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
You have put me into rhyme.

On their abatement; that's not my desire:
Lord. Farewell! you are angry!

(Exit. For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though Post. Still going?- This is a lord! O noble mi- 'Tis not so dear, yet ’tis a life; you coin'd it :

"Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp;
To be i'the field, and ask, what news, of me! Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
To-day, how many would have given their honours You rather mine, being yours. And so, great pow-
To have sav'd their carcasses? took heel to do't,
And yet died too? I, in mine own woe charm’d, If you will take this andit, take this life,
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
Nor feel him, where he struck: being an ugly mon- I'll speak to thee in silence.

[Ie sleeps. ster,

Solemn inusic. Enter, as an apparition, Sicilius 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, LEONATUS, father to PostuunCs, an old Man, ao Sweet words; or hath more ministers, than we tired like a warrior; leading in his hand an anThat draw his knivesi'the war. Well, I will find cient Matron, his wife, and mother to PostiumCS, him !

with Music before them. Then, after other Music, For being now a favourer to the Roman,

follow the two young Leonati, brothers to PostNo more a Briton, I have re-sum'd again

ITC uts, with wounds, as they died in the wais. The part I came in. Fight I will no more,

They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping:
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall

Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Thy spite on mortal flies :
Here made by the Romans; great the answer be

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
Britons must take: for me, my ransome's death; That thy adulteries
On either side I come to spend my breath;

Rates and revenges.
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again, Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

Whose face I never saw?
Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd
1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken! Attending Nature's law.
'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. Whose father then (as men report,

2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, Thou orphans' father art,)
That gave the allront with them.

Thou should'st have been, and shielded him
1 Cap. So 'tis reported:

From this earth-vexing smart,
But none of them can be found. - Stand! who is Moth, Lucina lent not me hier aid,

But took me in my throes;
Post. A Roman;

That from me was Posthumns ript,
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Came crying 'mongst his foes,
Had answer'd hin.

A thing of pity!
2 Cap. Lay liands on him; a dog!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell

Moulded the stuff so fair,
What crows have peck'd them here: he brags his That he deserv'd the praise o’the world,

As great Sicilius' heir.
As if he were of note: bring him to the king! 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man,

In Britain where was he
Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Captives. The That could stand up his parallel ;

Or fruitful object be
Captains present Posthumus to CYMBELINE, who de-
livers him over to a Gaoler; after which, all In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity ?

Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock’d,
SCENE IV.- A prison.

To be exíl’d, and thrown
Enter Posthumus, unt iwo Gaolers. From Leonati' seat, and cast
1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have From her his dearest one,
locks upon you;

Sweet Imogen?
So graze, as you find pasture.

Sici. Why did you sufler Iachimo,
2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. (Exeunt Gaolers. Slight thing of Italy,
Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, To tajut his nobler heart and brain
I think, to liberty! Yet am I better,

With needless jealousy;
Than one that's sick o'the gout; since he had rather And to become the geck and scorn
Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur’d

O'the other's villainy?
By the sure physician, death ; who is the key 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,
To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art Our parents, and us twain,

That, striking in our country's cause,
More than my shanks, and wrists. You, good gods, Fell bravely, and were slain;
give me

Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,
The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt,

With honour to maintain.
Then, free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry ? 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumns hath
So children temporal fathers do appease;

To Cymbeline perform'd:

go out.

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