(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 (0, giglot* fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. 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 crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. 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 Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæsar's ambi

tion

(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'the world), against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which

Ordain'd our laws; (whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fran-

chise,

Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put

• Strumpet.

His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.
Luc..

I am sorry, Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar

(Cæsar, that hath more kings his servants, than
Thyself domestick officers), thine enemy:

Receive it from me, then :-War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted :-Thus defied,
I thank thee for myself.

Cym.

Thou art welcome, Caius.

Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance*; I am perfect t,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent
Which not to read, would show the Britons cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.

Let proof speak.

Luc. Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day, or two, 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 yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end.

Luc. So, sir.

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he

mine:

All the remain is, welcome.

At the extremity of defiance.

+ Well informed.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Another room in the same.

Enter Pisanio.

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser?-Leonatus!

O, master! what a strange infection

Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian
(As poisonous-tongu'd, as handed), hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing?-Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in* some virtue.-O, my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command?-I, ber?-her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never

Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter

[Reading.

That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity:-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodaryt for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.

Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

Imo. How now, Pisanio?

To take in a town, is to conquer it. + Confederate.

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer,

That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content,-yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,—
(Some griefs are med'cinable ;) that is one of them,
For it doth physick love ;-of his content,

All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave:-Bless'd be
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news, gods!
[Reads.

Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your eyes. Take notice, that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven. What your own love will, out of this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his Dow, and your, increasing in love,

LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.

Q, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I

Glide thither in a day?—Then, true Pisanio
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,-
O, let me' bate,-but not like me: yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind:-O, not like me;

For mine's beyond beyond), say, and speak thick*,
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense), how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,

* Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible.

Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And how return, to excuse :-but first, how get
hence:

Why should excuse be born or ere begot?

We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt our and hour?

Pis.

One score, 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wa

gers,

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i'the clock's behalf:-But this is foolery:Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say,

She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently, A riding suit; no costlier than would fit

A franklin's housewife.

Pis.

Madam, you're best consider. Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them, That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee; Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say; Accessible is none but Milford way.

[Exeunt.

* A freeholder's.