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Pisanio. Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly set it at your will.

2 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 him,
He will, no doubt, be found.

Cym. The time is troublesome;
We'll slip you for a season: but our jealousy
Does yet depend.

Enter FIRST Lord.

1 Lord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen!
Let's withdraw;
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.

[Ereunt CYMBELINE, the Two Lords, and
Atten DANTs.

Pisanio. 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'm false, I'm honest; not true, to be true.
These present wars shall find I 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.
[Erit.

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SCEN E VI.
A Forest, near the Cave.

IMogen and CLOTEN discovered, lying on a Bank strewed with Flowers.-IMogEN awakes.

Imog. Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way I thank :-By yon bush?—Pray, how far thither 'Ods pittikins! can it be six miles yet?— I have gone all night: 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.– ’ [Seeing the Body.

But, soft no bedfellow:—O, gods and goddesses!
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't—I hope, a dream;
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures.
Good faith, -
I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! . .
The dream's here still : even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.—
A headless man l—The garments of Posthumus !—
Oh, he is murder'd l— -
Pisanio,
"Tis thou conspiring with that devil, Cloten,
Hasthere cut off my lord.—
Pisanio
How should this be –Pisanio —
"Tis he;—

e drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious

And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd’rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's : O !—
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on them 1–
O, my lord! my lord 1

Enter CAIUs Lucius, VARUs, and Soldiers.

Varus. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,
That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna's brother.

Luc. When expect you them :

Varus. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc. This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair.—
Soft, ho what trunk is here
Without his top The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building. How ! a page!——
Or dead, or sleeping on him But dead, rather;
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.—
Let's see the boy's face.

Varus. He is alive, my lord.

Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.—Young

One,

Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: Who is this
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow?
What's thy interest
. In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou ?

Imog. I am nothing: or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain:-Alas!
There are no more such masters!

Luc. 'Lack, good youth ! Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say, thy name, good boy. Imog. Fidele, sir. Luc. Thy name well fits thy faith:— Wilt take thy chance with me; I will not Say, Thou shalt be so well master'd ; but, be sure, No less belov’d. Go with me. Imog. o follow, sir. But, first, an’t please the Ods, I'll hido master from the flies, as deep As these poor pick-axes 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 partizans, 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. [As the SoLDIERs are taking up the Body, the Curtain falls.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE. I.

The Forest.

Drums, Trumpets, &c.

Enter BELARius, GUIDERIUs, and ARVIEAGUs.

Guid. The noise is round about us.

Bel. Let us from it. 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, nor muster'd Among the bands), may drive us to a render Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That, which we have done, whose answer would be

death,

Drawn on with torture.

Guid. 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 note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel. O, I am known
Of many in the army:

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