Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Guid. A moft incivil one.

The wrongs he did me

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me

With language that would make me spurn the fea,
Could it fo roar to me. I cut off's head,

And am right glad he is not standing here

To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I'm forry for thee;

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and muft
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,

And take him from our prefence.

Bel. Stay, Sir King,

This man is better than the man he flew,

As well defcended as thy self, and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone,
They were not born for bondage.
Cym. Why old foldier

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath? how of descent
As good as we?

Arv. In that he spake too far.

Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove that two on's are as good

As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I must,

For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though haply well for you.

Arv. Your danger's ours.

Guid. And our good his.

Bel. Have at it then, by leave:

Thou hadft, great king, a fubject, who was call'd
Bellarius.

Cym. What of him? a banish'd traitor.

Bel. He it is that hath

Affum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man,

I know not how a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence,

The whole world fhall not fave him.

Bel. Not too hot:

First pay me for the nurfing of thy fons,

And let it be confifcate all, fo foon

As I've receiv'd it.

Cym. Nurfing of my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy; here's my knee:
Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons,

Then spare not the old father. Mighty Sir,
These two young gentlemen that call me father
And think they are my fons, are none of mine,
They are the iffue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym. How? my iffue?

Bel. So fure as you, your father's: I, old Morgan,
Am that Bellarius whom you fometime banish'd;
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment
It self, and all my treafon: That I fuffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes,
(For fuch and fo they are,) these twenty years
Have I train'd up; fuch arts they have, as I
Could put into them. Sir, my breedingwas,
As your Grace knows. Their nurfe Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children

Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't,
Having receiv'd the punishment before
For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty,
Excited me to treason. Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But Sir,
Here are your fons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'ft companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heav'ns
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To in-lay heav'n with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st:

The service that you three have done, is more
Unlike, than this thou tell'ft. I loft my children

If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while---

This gentleman, whom I call Polidore,
Moft worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwall, Arviragus,
Your younger princely fon; he, Sir, was lapt
In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand
Of his queen-mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star,
It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natʼral stamp:
It was wife nature's end, in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym. Oh, what am I

A mother to the birth of three? ne'er mother

Re

Rejoic'd deliverance more; bleft may you be,
That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now: oh Imogen,
Thou'ast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo. No, my lord.:

I've got two worlds by't. Oh my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? oh never say hereafter
But I am trueft fpeaker. You call'd me brother
When I was but your fifter: I, you brother,
When ye were fo indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?
Arv. Ay, my good lord.

Guid. And at first meeting lov'd,"
Continu'd fo, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram fhe swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through this fierce abridgment
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which

Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to ferve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?..
Why fled you from the court? and whether these?
And your three motives to the battel? with

I know not how much more should be demanded,
And all the other By-dependances.

From chance to chance? but not the time nor place
Will ferve long interrogatories. See,

Pofthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her mafter; hitting
Each object with a joy. The counter-change
Is fev'rally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoak the temple with our facrifices.

Thou

Thou art my brother, fo we'll hold thee ever.

Imo. You are my father too, and did relieve me,

To fee this gracious season!

Cym. All o'er-joy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,

For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo. My good master, I will yet do you fervice.

Luc. Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn foldier that fo nobly fought He would have well becom❜d this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king.

Poft. 'Tis I am, Sir,

The foldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming: 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
Speak, Tachimo, I had you down, and might
Have made your finish.

Iach. I am down again :

But now my heavy confcience finks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,
Which I fo often owe: but your ring first,

And here your bracelet of the trueft princess
That ever swore her faith.

Poft. Kneel not to me:

The power that I have on you, is to spare you:
The malice tow'rds you, to forgive you. Live,
And deal with others better.

[To Bel.

Joy'd