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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 ? [Reading] “Do't: the

That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity :”- damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a fedary for this act, and look’st
So virgin-like without ? Lo, here she comes.--
I'm ignorant in what I am commanded.

Enter. IMOGEN.
Imo. How now, Pisanio.
Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Imo. Who ? thy lord ? that is my lord, - Leonatus?
0, 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,
Forit 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 !

[Reads. “ Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominon, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even 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,-
0, let me bate,– but not like me ; — yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind; — 0, not like me ;
For mine's beyond beyond, - say, and speak thick,
Love's counselor 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
T' 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, t' excuse :— but first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?

One score 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,
Could never go so slow : I've 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.

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 prithee;
Do as I bid thee : there's no more to say ;
Accessible is none but Milford way.

(Exeunt, SCENE III. The same. Wales : a mountainous country

with a cave. Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; then GUIDERIUS

and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such

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Whose roof's as low as ours! stoop, boys: this gate
Instructs you how t'adore the heavens, and bows you
To morning's holy office : the gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet 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.

Hail, heaven!

Hail, heaven! Bel. Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill, Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. . Consider, When


above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off ; And you may then revolve what tales I've told you 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, Richer than doing nothing for a bribe, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk : Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, Yet keeps his book uncross'd : no life to ours. Guï. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor un.

Have never wing'd from view o’ the nest, nor know nos
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; traveling a-bed;
A prison for a debtor, that noi dares
To stride a limit.

What should we speak of
When we are old as you? when we shall heai
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 valor is to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison’d bird,
And sing our bondage freely:

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 o' the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I'the name of fame and honor; 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'sy 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 lov'd 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 nigh,,
A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Uncertain favor! Bel. My fault being nothing,— as I've told you oft,But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honor, 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 liv’d 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 hunters' 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're mine; and, though train'd up thus

l'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, who
The king his father call’d Guiderius,— Jove !
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I've done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say, “ Thus mine enemy fell,
And thus I set my foot on's 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 Arviragus,- in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving.– Hark, the game is rous'd! -
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 honor to her grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call’d,
They take for natural father.— The game is

up. [Exit. SCENE IV. The same. Near Milford-Haven.

Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN. mo. 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 Posthumus? What is in thy mind, That makes thee starz thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd

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