D. Ence ice vent to MilfordHaven:

2. The an scarce be mere yet.

Ja Jung mus appare to my chamber; that s the second thing that I have commanded thee: the thiri is, that thou shalt be a voluntary mute ta ny fesign. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee.-My revenge is now at Milford; 'would I had wings to follow it! -Come, and be true. [Exit. Pisa. Thou bidd'st me to my loss: for, true to thee,

Were to prove false (which I will never be)
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings on her! This fool's speed
Be crossed with slowness; labour be his meed!

[Exit.

SCENE VI. Before the Cave of BELARIUS.
Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes.

Imo. I see a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tired myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio shewed thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think
Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean,
Where they should be relieved. Two beggars
told me

I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: to lapse in ful-

ness

Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood
Is worse in kings than beggars.-My dear lord!
Thou art one o' the false ones: now I think on

thee,

My hunger's gone; but even before I was
At point to sink for food.-But what is this?
Here is a path to it: 'tis some savage hold.
I were best not call; I dare not call; yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here?
If anything that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take, or lend.-Ho! No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword, and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look
on't.

Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. You, Polydore, have proved best woodman, and

Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I
Will play the cook and servant; 't is our match:
The sweat of industry would dry and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what's homely savoury: weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.-Now peace be here.
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

I am throughly weary.

Gui. Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. 2 G

VOL. II.

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckoned, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.

Imo. I see you are angry :
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have died had I not made it.

Bel. Whither bound?
Imo. To Milford-Haven.
Bel. What's your name?

Imo. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am fallen in this offence.