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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

[Aside. They'll pardon it. Say you, sir? Luc.

Thy name? Imo.

Fidele. 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.

Inno. 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.-
My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: Come, arm him.- Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes ;
Some falls are means the happier to arise. (Escunt.

• 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, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone: my queen Upon a desperate bed; and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present: It strikes me, past The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure, and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. Pis.

Sir, my life is yours, I hunibly set it at your will: But, for my mistress, I nothing kpow where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your high

ness,
Hold me your loyal servant.
1 Lord.

Good my liege,
The day that she was missing, he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.
For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking bim,
And, will, no doubt, be found.
Cym.

The time's troublesome : We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy

[To Pisanio. Does yet depend. 1 Lord.

So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,

Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

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 powers f in motion, That long to move. Cym.

I thank you: Let's withdraw: And meet the time, as it seek us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here.-Away. (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 I love my country, Even to the notes 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.

[Erit.

. Confounded by a variety of business.
† Encounter.

Forces.
Notice.

SCENE IV.

Before the cave.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
Gui. The noise is round about us.
Bel.

Let us from it.
Arv. 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
Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
Bel.

Sons,
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 rendert
Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer would be

death
Drawn on with torture.
Gui.

This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.
Arv.

It is not likely, ..
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our potet,
To know from whence we are.
Bel.

O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,

* Revolters.

† An account.

Noticing as.

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore

him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
Gui.

Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known ; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.
Aru.

By this sun that shines,
I'll thither : What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison ?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who de'er wore rowel
Nor iron on bis heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
Gui.

By heavens, I'll go:
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans !
Aru.

So say I; Amen.
Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve !
My crack'd ove 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. Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

(Exeunt.

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