Luc. 'Lack, good youth! Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend. Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes* can dig: and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his grave, And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh; And, leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. Luc. Ay, good youth; And rather father thee, than master thee.- As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes; • Her fingers. SCENE III. A room in Cymbeline's palace. Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio. Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son; A madness, of which her life's in danger:-Heavens, When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, Pis. Sir, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress, ness, Good my liege, The day that she was missing, he was here: For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will, no doubt, be found. Cym. The time's troublesome: [To Pisanio. We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy Does yet depend. 1 Lord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast; with a supply Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen! I am amaz'd with matter*. 1 Lord. Good my liege, Your preparation can affrontt no less Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: The want is, but to put those powerst in motion, Cym. [Exeunt. Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings; Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find 1 love my country, Even to the note § o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd. * Confounded by a variety of business. + Encounter. § Notice. Forces. [Exit. SCENE IV. Before the cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Gui. The noise is round about us. Bel. Let us from it. Aro. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? Gui. Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans During their use, and slay us after. Sons, Bel. We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going; newness Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render t Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That which we've done, whose answer would be death It is not likely, That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, That they will waste their time upon our notet, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Gui. By this sun that shines, Arv. A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining By heavens, I'll go: Gui. The hands of Romans! Arv. So say I; Amen. Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie: Lead, lead. The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn, [Aside. [Exeunt. Till it fly out, and show them princes born. |