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Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon hill, | Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years, Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,

When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens, and sets off,

And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allowed: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded 7 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. 8
Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor un-
fledg'd,

Have never winn'd from view o' the nest ; nor know

not

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 a-bed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit. 9

Arv.
What should we speak of,
When we are old as you; when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse

f The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat :
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

How you speak!
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 search;

And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
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 oft,)

But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans: so

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you

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 hunters' language: - He that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast; To him the other two shall minister;

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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
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, Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving, Hark! the game is rous'd! —
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,

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,

Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their

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Was near at hand: - Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now :- Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthúmus? What is in thy mind,
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that
sigh

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 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,

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Pis

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

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd the strumpet in my bed: the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as 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
Out-venoms 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 viperous slander enters. What cheer, ma-
dam?

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

nature,

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!

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, hath betrayed him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,
I must be rip'd: - To pieces with me! - O,
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
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 honest men being heard, like false
Æneas,

Were, in his time, thought false: and Sinon's weep-
ing

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 shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: Though those that are be-
tray'd

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
And thou, Posthúmus, thou that didst set up
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father,
And make me put into contempt the suits
Of princely fellows, shalt thereafter 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 5 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.

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I thought you would not back again.
Imo.

Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity
From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Post- Bringing me here to kill me.
húmus,

Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd
From thy great fail. - Come, fellow, be thou honest:
Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 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 may'st be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a coward.

Pis.
Hence, vile instrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo.

Then, madam,

Most like;

Pis.
Not so, neither:
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be,
But that my master is abus'd:

Some villain, ay, and singular in his art,
Hath done you both this cursed injury.
Imo. Some Roman courtezan,

Pis.

No, on my life.
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded
I should do so: You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo.
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Why, I must die; Dead to my husband?
Pis.
3 Cowards.

And if do not by thy hand, thou art

2 Likeness.

If you'll back to the court, 4 The writings. 5 Feedest or preyest on.

Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing:
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
Pis.
If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
Imo.

Where, then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
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 ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven
To-morrow: Now, if you could 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: so 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 gibes, quick-answered, 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 touch
Of common-kissing Titan 6; and forget
Your troublesome and dainty trims, wherein
You make 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 musick,) doubtless, With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad You have me 7, 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 considered; but we'll even All that good time will give us: This attempt I'm soldier 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,

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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, ana
Lords.

Cym. Thus far; and so farewell.
Luc.
Thanks, royal sir.
My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence;
And am right sorry, that I must report ye
My master's enemy.

Cym.

Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkingly.

Luc.

So, sir, I desire of you

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That we have given him cause.

Clo. "Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us, therefore, ripely, Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain.

Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business; But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly.

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus, Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd The duty of the day: She looks us like A thing more made of malice, than of duty : We have noted it.—Call her before us; for We have been too slight in sufferance.

[Exit an Attendant. Queen. Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, And strokes death to her.

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look after. [Exit CLOTEN.

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthúmus!
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 Posthúmus: 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.
Re-enter CLOTEN.

How now, my son?

Clo.

'Tis certain she is fled: Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none Dare come about him.

Queen. All the better: May This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit QUEEN. 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 8; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all: I love her therefore; But, Disdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Posthúmus, 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

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How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome.

Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer ? No further halting: satisfy me home, What is become of her?

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord!

Clo.

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She's far enough; and what he learns by this, Aside.
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! [Asiae.
Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true?
Pis.

Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't.- Sirrah if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me tru service; undergo those employments, wherein should have cause to use thee, with a serious i dustry,—that is, what villainy soc'er I bid thee do, to perform it, directly and truly,-I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldest neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.

Pis. Well, my good lord.

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? 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. Sir, I will.

Hast

Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodgings, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither let it be thy first service: go. Pis. I shall, my lord.

[Erit.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven: -I forgot to ask him one thing: I'll remember't anon: - Ever there, thou villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee. — i would these garments were come. She said upon

a time, that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish ber: First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. 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 MilfordHaven?

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 shail tender itself to thee.. My revenge is now at Milford; 'Would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. [Erit.

-

Pis. Thou bids't me to my loss: for true to thee, All-worthy villain! Were to prove false, which I will never be, Discover where thy mistress is, at once,

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At the next word, No more of worthy lord,—
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.

Than any lady, than all ladies, than all womankind.

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!

[Erit.

SCENE VI. - Before the Cave of Belarius,

Enter IMOGEN, in Boy's Clothes.

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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 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 9, and

-

Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match 1:
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what's homely, savory: 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 thoroughly weary. Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Gui. There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browze on that,

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

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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.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom. In honesty,
I bid for you, as I'd buy.
Arv.

I'll make't my comfort,
He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:
And such a welcome as I'd give to him,
After long absence, such is yours:— Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.
Imo.
'Mongst friends

If brothers?-'Would it had been so, that

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Imo. Great men,

Hark, boys. [Whispering

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.
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.

Bel.

Gui.

Pray, draw near.

Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark,

less welcome. Imo. Thanks, sir.

Arv.

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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 businsss: He creates Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes, 2 In, for into.

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