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(As poisonous tongue'd, as handed) hath prevail o
On thy too ready hearing ?-Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-O, my master!
Thy mind to hert is now as low, as were

*

Thy fortunes-How! that I should murder her ?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I

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 ? Do't: the letter
That I have sent her by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity :-O damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary ‡ for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter IMOGEN.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded. §
Imo. How now, Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus ? O learn'd indeed were that astronomer,

That knew the stars, as I his characters;

He'd lay the future open.-You, good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,

Of my lord's health, of his content,-yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him-
(Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love)-of his content,

All but in that Good wax, thy leave:-Bless'd be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet

You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news, gods!

[Reading.

[Reads.

Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O 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?
He is at Milford Haven: Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day ?-Then, true Pisanio

(Who long'st like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,

* Conquer.

✰ Confederate.

+ As compared with hers

I. e. unskilled in murder.

[graphic]

O, let me 'bate,-but not like me:-yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind :-O, not like me;

For mine's beyond beyond), say, and speak thick *
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense), how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven: But first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And our return, to excuse :-but first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?t
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?

Pis. One score, 'twixt sun and sun,

Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands

That run i' the clock's behalf:-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.

Pis. Madam, you're best consider.

Imo. 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 III.-Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This gate
Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you
To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jets through
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.

Gui. Hail, heaven!

Arv. 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,

* One word on another.

+ Why invent an excuse before its occasion has arisen.

A freeholder.

Strut.

D

2

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded* beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;t
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. §

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not
What air 's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.||

Arv. What should we speak of,

When we are old as you ? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing:
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel. How you speak!

Did you but know the city's usuries,

And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb

Is certain falling, or so slippery, that

The fear 's as bad as falling: the toil of the war,

A pain that only seems to seek out danger

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,

Must court'sey at the censure:-O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: My body 's mark'd
With Roman swords: and my report was once
First with the best of note; Cymbeline loved me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree,

Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,

Scaly-winged.

I. e. having charge of a ward.
Overpass his bound. d

↑ I. e. a command at court.

& I. e. compared with ours.

[graphic]

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,

And left me bare to weather.

Gui. Uncertain favour!

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft),
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: so,
Follow'd my banishment; and this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world:
Where I have lived at honest freedom; paid
More pious debts to heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains;
This is not hunter's language:-He that strikes
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast;
To him the other two shall minister;

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys.

[Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!

These boys know little they are sons to the king;

Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

They think they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly
I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit

The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,―
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius,-Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say,-Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words. The younger brother Cadwal
(Once Arvirágus), in as like a figure,

Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is roused!-
O, Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon

At three and two years old, I stole these babes;

Thinking to bar thee of succession, as

Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,

Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother,

And every day do honour to her grave:

Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,

They take for natural father. The game is up.

SCENE IV.-Near Milford Haven.

Enter PISANTO and IMOGEN.

Exit.

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand: Ne'er long'd my mother so

To see me first, as I have now:-Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthúmus? What is in thy mind,

That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

Beyond self-explication: Put thyself

Into a 'haviour of less fear, ere wildness
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter?
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st

But keep that countenance still.-My husband's hand!
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,

And he's at some hard point.-Speak, man; thy tongue
May take off some extremity, which to read

Would be even mortal to me.

Pis. Please you, read;

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imo. [reads]. Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie, bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven: she hath my letter for the purpose: Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.-No, 'tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave

This viperous slander enters.-What cheer, madam ?
Imo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false?

To lie in watch there, and to think on him?

To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? If sleep charge nature,
To break it with a fearful dream of him,

And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed?
Is it ?

Pis. Alas, good lady!

Imo. I false? Thy conscience witness:-Iachimo,

Thou didst accuse him of incontinency;

Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks

Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy,

Whose mother was her painting,+ hath betrayed him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;

And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls,‡

I must be ripp'd:-to pieces with me !-0,

For behaviour.

† I. e. whose beauty was created by artifice. I. e. than to be hung up in a cupboard out of the way.

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