Here is a path to't-'tis fome favage hold;
'Twere best not call; I dare not call; yet famine,
Ere it clean o'er-throw nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and peace breed cowards, hardness ever
Of hardinefs is mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take, or yield food: no anfwer? then I'll enter.
Beft draw my fword; and if mine enemy

But fear the fword like me, he'll fcarcely look on't.
Grant fuch a foe, good heav'ns! [She goes into the Cave.
Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel. You, Paladour, have prov'd beft woodman, and

Are mafter of the feaft; Cadwal and I

Will play the cook, and fervant, 'tis our match:

The fweat of industry would dry, and die

But for the end it works to. Come, our ftomachs
Will make what's homely favory; weariness
Can fnore upon the flint, when resty sloth

Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here,
Poor houfe, that keep'ft thy felf!

Guid. I'm throughly weary.

Aru. I'm weak with toil, yet ftrong in appetite.

Guid. There is cold meat i'th' cave, we'll brouze on that Whilft what we've kill'd be cook'd.

Bel. Stay, come not in

But that it eats our victuals, I fhould think

It were a Fairy.

Guid. What's the matter, Sir?

Bel. By Jupiter, an Angel! or if not, An earthly paragon. Behold divinenefs No elder than a boy.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good mafters, harm me not;

Before I enter'd here, I call'd, and thought

[Looking in.

T' have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth,
I have ftol'n nought, nor would not, though I'd found
Gold ftrew'd o'th' floor. Here's money for my meat,
I would have left it on the board fa foon

As I had made my meal: and parted thence
With prayers for the provider.

Guid. Mony, youth?

Arv. All gold and filver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty Gods.

Imo. I fee you're angry:

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I fhould
Have dy'd, had I not made it.
Bel. Whither bound?
Imo. To Milford-Haven.

Bel. Say, what is your name?

Imo. Fidele, Sir; I have a kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy: he embarques at Milford,
To whom being going, almoft spent with hunger
I'm fall'n in this offence.

Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth,

Think us no churls'; nor measure our good minds.
By this rude place we live in. Well-encounter'd!
'Tis almost night, you shall have better cheer
Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it.
Boys, bid him welcome.

Guid. Were you a woman, youth,

I fhould wooe hard, but be your groom in honesty;
I'd bid for you, as I would buy.

Aru. I'll make't my comfort

He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:..

And fuch a welcome as I'd give to him,

After long abfence, fuch is yours. Moft welcome!

Be fprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

Imo. 'Mongft friends,

If brothers-Would it had been fo that they

Had been my father's fons; then had my price Afide. Been lefs, and fo more equal balancing

To thee Pofthumus.

Bel. He wrings at fome diftrefs.

Guid. Would I could free't!

Arv. Or I, whate'er it be,

What pain it coft, what danger; Gods!

Bel. Hark, boys,

Imo. Great men,

That bad a Court no bigger than this cave,

[Whispering.

Which

That did attend themselves, and had the virtue

Which their own conscience feal'd them, laying by
That nothing-gift of defering multitudes,

Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, Gods,
I'd change my fex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus is falle.

Bel. It fhall be fo:

Boys, we'll go drefs our hunt. Fair youth, come in:
Difcourfe is heavy, fafting; when we've fupp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy ftory,

So far as thou wilt fpeak.

Guid. I pray draw near.

Arv. The night to th' owl, and morn to th' lark, lefs welcome!

[Exeunt, * SCENE VIII. Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pifanio.

Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her; A fever with the abfence of her fon;

Madness, of which her life's in danger; heav'ns!
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone! my Queen
Upon a defperate bed, and in a time

When fearful wars point at me! her fon gone,

SCENE VIII. Rome.
Eter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.
I Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperor's writ;
That fince the common men are now in action
'Gain't the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
And that the legions now in Gallia, are
Full weak to undertake our war against
The fall'n off Britons; that we do incite
The gentry to this bufinefs. He creates
Lucius Pro-conful: and to you the Tribunes
For this immediate levy, he commands
His abfolute commiffion. Long live Cæfar!
Tri. Is Lucius Gen'ral of the forces?

2 Sen Ay.

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?

Sen. With thofe legions

Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy

Must be fuppliant: the words of your comm flion

Will tie you to the numbers and the time

Of their dispatch.

Tri. We will difcharge our duty.

So

[Exeunt.

[Exeunt

So needful for this prefent! it ftrikes me, paft
The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Doft seem so ignorant, we'll force it from thee
By a fharp torture.

Pif. Sir, my life is yours,

I fet it at your will: but for my mistress,
I nothing know where fhe remains, why gone,
Nor when the proposes return,
'Beseech you,

Hold me your loyal fervant.

Lord. Good my Liege,

The day that he was miffing, he was here;
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his fubjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in feeking him,
He will no doubt be found.

Cym. The time is troublesome ;

We'll flip you for a season, but our jealousie
Do's yet depend.

Lord. So please your Majefty,

The Roman legions all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coaft, with large fupply

Of Roman Gentlemen, by th' Senate fent.

Cym. Now for the counfel of my fon and Queen: I am amaz'd with matter.

Lord. Good my Liege,

Your preparation can affront no lefs

Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you're ready; The want is, but to put thefe powers in motion,

That long to move.

Cym. I thank you; let's withdraw

And meet the time, as it feeks us, We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at chances here. Come, let's away.

[Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords.
Pif. I've had no letter from my master, fince
I wrote him Imogen was flain. 'Tis ftrange;
Nor hear I from my miftrefs, who did promise
To yield me often tidings. Neither know I
What is betid to Cloten, but remain

Perplext

Perplext in all. The heavens ftill must work;
Wherein I'm falfe, I'm honeft; not true, true.
These present wars fhall find I love my country,
Ev'n to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them;
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;
Fortune brings in fome boats that are not fteer'd. [Exit.
ACT IV. SCENE I.

I

The Foreft. Enter Cloten alone.

Am near to th' place where they fhould meet, if Pifanio have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments ferve me! why fhould his miftrefs, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather, (faving reverence of the word,) because 'tis faid, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman; I dare fpeak it to myfelf, for it is no vain-glory for a man and his glafs to confer in his own chamber; I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no lefs young, more ftrong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, a like converfant in general fervices, and more remarkable in fingle oppofitions; yet this ill-perfeverant thing loves him in my defpight. What mortality is! Pofthumus, thy head which is now growing upon thy fhoulders, fhall within this hour be off, thy miftrefs enforc'd, thy garments cut to pieces before her face; and all this done, I'll spurn her home to her father, who may, happily, be a little angry for my fo rough ufage; but my mother having power of his teftiness, fhall turn all into my commendations. My horfe is ty'd up fafe: out, fword, and to a fore purpose! fortune put them into my hand! this is the very defcription of their meeting-place, and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit. SCENE II. The Front of the Cave. Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen, from the Cave.

Bel. You are not well: remain here in the cave, We'll come t'you after hunting.

Arv. Brother, ftay here:

Are we not brothers?

Imo. So man and man fhould be, But clay and clay differs in dignity,

1

Whofe i