The king his father call'd Guiderius, - Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say, Thus mine enemy fell:
And thus I set 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 Arviragus), in as like a figure,

Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd!-

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

Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,

That it is place, which lessens, and sets off.

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a protit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd no life to ours.

Thou didst unjustly banish me whereon,

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd, [not Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed;

A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.

Did you but know the city's usuries,

And felt them knowingly: the art o'the court,

As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that

The fear's as bad as falling the toil of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I'the name of fame, and honour; which dies i'the
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many times,

[search;

Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must court'sey at the censure:-O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body's mark'd,
With Roman swords and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier 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 storm, 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, whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: so,

Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world:
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid
More pious debts to heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time. But, up to the mountains;
This is not hunter's language:-He, that strikes
The venison first, shall be the lord o'the feast;
To him the other two shall minister;

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt Guiderius and Arviragus.

How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little, they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

They think, they are mine and, though train'd up thus meanly

I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things, to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,-
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom

[ther,

Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mo-
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 Pisanio and Imogen.

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place

Was near at hand: -Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now:-Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind, [sigh
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that
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 le
'haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be summer news,
Smile to't before if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still.--My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at some hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue
May take off some extremity, which to read
Would be even mortal to me.

Pis.

Please you, read;

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imo. [Reads] Thy mistress, nistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; but from proof as strong us my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunities at MilfordHaven: she hath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.

Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the

paper

Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander;
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperou slander enters. What cheer, madam ?

Imo. False to his bed! What is it to be false ?
To lie in watch there, and to think on him?
To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge na-
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? That's false to his bed ?
Is it?

Pis. Alas, good lady!

[ture,

Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness: -Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;

Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks,
Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, bath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, 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!-0,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villany; not born, where't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.
Pis.

Good madam, hear me.

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Æneas,

Were, in his time, thought false and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity

From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Posthumus,

Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men!
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false, and perjur'd,
From thy great great fail. fail Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding: When thou seest him,
A little witness my obedience: Look!

I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief:
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,
The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike.
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;

But now thou seem'st a coward.
Pis.

Hence, vile instrument!

Thou shalt not damn my hand. Imo.

Why, I must die

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine,

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

The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus,
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,

Corrupters of my faith! you shail no more

Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: Though those that are betray'd
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find
It is no act of common passage, but

A strain of rareness and I grieve myself,

To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her

That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory

Will then be pang'd by me.-Pr'ythee, despatch:

The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife?

Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding,
When I desire it too.

Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan's nest: Pr'ythee, think
There's livers out of Britain.
Pis.
I am most glad
You think of other place. The embassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: Now, if you would wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be,
But by self-danger; you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus: 50 nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear,
As truly as he moves.

Imo.

O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure.

Pis.

Well then, here's the point:

You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear, and niceness,
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman its pretty self), to a waggish courage
Ready in gihes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrellous as the weasel: nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy!) to the greedy tonch
Of common-kissing Titan; and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein
You made great Juno angry.

Imo.

Nay, be brief:

I see into thy end, and am almost A man already.

Pis.

First, make yourself but like one.

Fore-thinking this, I have already fit
("Tis in my cloak-bag), doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them: Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you are happy (which you'll make him know,
If that his head have ear in music), doubtless,

With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning, nor supplyment.

Imo.

Thou art all the comfort

The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away:
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us: This attempt
I'm soldier oldier to, and will abide it with

A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee.

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell;

Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of

Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the queen;
What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea,
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper. To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood:-May the gods
Direct you to the best!

Imo.

Amen: I thank thee. (Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and

Lords.

Go, look after.[Exit Cloten.

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus!-
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes
It is a thing most precious. But for her
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her;
Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown
To her desir'd esir'd Posthumas; Gone she is,

To death, or to dishonour; and my end
Can make good use of either She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.

Queen.

All the better: May

This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit.
Clo. I love, and hate her for she's fair and royal;
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all: I love her therefore; re; But,
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment,
That what's else rare, is chok'd; and, in that point,

I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,

To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools

Even to Augustus' throne. Pis.

Or this, or perish.

[Aside.

She's far enough and what he learns by this,
May prove his travel, not her danger.
Clo.

Humph!

Pis. I'll write to my lord, she's dead. O, Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again! [Aside. Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis.

Sir, as I think.

Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.-Sirrab, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service; undergo those employments, wherein I should have cause to use thee, with a serious industry,that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. Wilt thou serve met For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me?

Pis. I shall, my lord.

[Exit.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven: -I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon-Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.-I would these garments were come. She said upon a time (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart) that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. Wi With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my last hath dined (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the clothes that she so praised), to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge.

Re-enter Pisanio, with the Clothes.

Be those the garments?
Pis. Ay, my noble lord.

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford

Haven?

Pis. She can scarce be there yet.

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee the third is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it!-Come, and be [Exit. true.

Pis. Thou bidd'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 pursu'st. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE VI. Before the Cave of Belarius.
Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes.

Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd 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 reliev'd. 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,
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. My dear lord!
Thou art one o'the false ones: Now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
At point to sink for food. But what is this?
Here is a path to it: '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! [She goes into the Cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman,
Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Cand
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
Can snore upon the flint, when restive 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; we'll browze Whilst what we have kill'd he cook'd. Bel.

[on that, Stay; come not in; [Looking in:

But that it eats our victuals, I should think

Bel.

Imo. Great men,

Or L; whate'er it be,

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

Bel.

It shall be so:

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,
Imo. Thanks, sir.
[less welcome.
Arv.
I pray, draw near. (Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Rome.

Enter two Senators and Tribunes.

1 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 fallen-off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this business: He creates
Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes,
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commission. Long live Cæsar!
Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces?
2 Sen.

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?
1 Sen.

Ay.

With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant: The words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers, and the time

Of their despatch. Tri.

SCENE I. The Forest near the Cove.
Enter Cloten.

Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather (saving reverence of the word) for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass to confer; in his own chamber, I mean), the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face and all this done, spurn her home to her father who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage: but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meetingplace; and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit.

Arvira

SCENE II. Before the Cave. Enter, from the Cave, Belarius, Guiderius, gus, and Imogen. Bel. You are not well: [To Imogen remain here We'll come to you after hunting. [in the cave; Arv. Brother, stay here:

Are we not brothers? Imo.

[To Imogen.

So man and man should be;

But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick.

Gui. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.

Imo. So sick I am not; -yet I am not well:

But not so citizen a wanton, as

To seem to die, ere sick: So please you, leave me;

ZZ