Oh, master! what a strange infection Thy fortunes.-How! that I should murder her? Have made to thy command?—I, her ?—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? [Reading the Letter. Do't: The letter, That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity :-Oh, damn'd paper!» Black as the ink that's on thee! Lo, here she comes. Enter IMOGEN. I am ignorant in what I am commanded. Imog. How now, Pisanio ? tus? Pisanio. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. You bees, that make these locks of counsel! [Reading.] Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominions, could not be so cruel to me, as you, Oh, 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 vow, and your, increasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS. O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio? Glide thither in a day?—Then, true Pisanio, To this same blessed Milford? How may we steal from hence? I pr'ythee, speak, How many score of miles may we well ride "Twixt hour and hour? Pisanio. One score, 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, is enough for you; and too much too. Imog. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, Could never go so slow : 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. Pisanio Madam, you're best consider,→ Imog. 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. SCENE IV. A Forest in Wales, with a Cave. Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS, from the Cave. Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours: See, boys: This gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs Guid. Hail, Heaven! Aro. Hail, Heaven! Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: up to yon hill, Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow, That it is place, which lessens, and sets off. And you may then revolve what tales I have told you, Guid. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor un fledg'd, Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, That have a sharper known; well corresponding Aro. What should we speak of, When we are old as you, when we shall hear Did you but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court, The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of the war, I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the search; And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one night, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, Guid. Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing, (as I have told you oft) But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd The fore end of my time. But, up to the mountains; And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the vallies. They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly t I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more Hark! the game is rous'd! Oh, Cymbeline! Heaven, and my conscience, knows, Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, F |