When from the mountain top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: Two beggars told me, 1 I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: My dear lord! Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee, Tis some savage hold : I were best not call: I dare not call: yet famine, Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. and Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I, Come, our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness Finds the down pillow hard.-Now, peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! [Goes towards the Cave. Guid. I am throughly weary. Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Guid. There's cold meat i'the cave; we'll browse on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. |