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Wales. A mountainous country, with a cave.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys : This
gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens ; and bows
you To morning's holy office : The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet* through, And keep their impious turbands on, without Good morrow to the son.-Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i'the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do. Gui.
Hail, heaven! Aro.
Hail, heaven! Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon
hill, Your legs are young ; I'll tread these flats. Consi.
* Strut, walk proudly.
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
fledg'd, Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know
What should we speak of,
How you speak!
* i. e. Compared with ours.
* To overpass his bound, VOL. VII.
Must court'sey at the censure :--0, boys, this story
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 moun
tains; 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.
i [Exeunt Gui. and Arv. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of pature! These boys know little, they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline drearns 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 wature 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
Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
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
hand! That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point.— Speak, man; thy
Please you, read;
Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. Thut 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 the opportunities at Milford-Haven : 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 viperous slander enters.-- What cheer, madam?
Imo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false?