Which I left with her?

Sir, I thank her, thàt.

Iach.
She stript it from her arm; I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsell her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too. She gave it me,

And said, she priz'd it once.

Post.

To send it me.

Iach.

She pluck'd it off,

She writes so to you? doth she?

Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true.

too;

It is a basilisk unto mine eye.

O, above measure false !

Phi.

Here, take this

[Gives the Ring.

Have patience, sir,

It may be probable, she lost it; or,

Who knows, one of her women, being corrupted,
Might not have stol'n it from her.

Post.
Very true;
Render to me some còrporal sign about her,
More evident than this; for this was stolen.

Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm!

Post. Hark you, he swèars; by Jupiter he swears!

There, take thy hire: and all the fiends of hell

[Throws down the Bracelet.

Divide themselves between you !

If you seek

Iach.
For further satisfying, on her breast
(Worthy her pressing), lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging. You remember
This stain upon her ?——
I'll be sworn,—

Post.

No swearing.

[Exeunt.

O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal!
I will go there, and do't; i' the court, before
Her father. I'll do something——

ACT III.

Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter PISANIO, Reading a Letter.

OW! of adultery? Disloyal! No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and under-
goes,

More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue.-O my master!
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:—damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee. Lo, she comes.

Enter IMOGEN.

Imo. How now, Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. Imo. That is my lord, Leonatus? Good news, gods!

[Reads. "Justice, and your father's wrath, could not be so cruel to me; but you, O the dearest of creatures, would 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. How far is't

To this same bléssed Milford? Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.

One score, 'twixt sùn and sùn, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too. Imo. Go, bid my woman presently provide A riding suit; no costlier than would fit A franklin's housewife.

Pis.

Madam, pray consider.

Imo. Do as I bid thee: There's no more to sày; Accessible is none but Milford way.

[Exeunt.

Wales.

A mountainous Country with a Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Belarius.

GOODLY day not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys :

This gate

Instructs you how t'adore the heavens; and bòws you
To morning's holy office. Hail, fair heaven!
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.

Gui.

Arv.

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 you above perceive me like a crow,

That it is place which lessens, and sets off:

And often to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold

Than is the full-wing'd eagle. No life to ours.
Gui. Out of your proof you speak. This life is best,
If quiet life is best; to ùs, it is

A cell of ignorance; travelling abéd;

A prison for a debtor, that not dares

To stride a limit.

Arv.

What should we speak of,

When we are old as you? We have seen nòthing; Yet sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

How you speak!

Did you but know the city's usuries,

A toil that only seems to seek out danger
I' the name of fame, and honour. Boys, this story
The world may read in mè: 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 night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Gui.

Uncertain favour!

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I told you oft), But that two villains swore to Cymbeline,

I was confederate with the Romans: so,

Follow'd my banishment; and, twenty years,

This rock has been my world.-But, to the mountains!
This is not hunters' language :-He, that strikes
The ven'son first, shall be the lord o' th' feast.
I'll meet you in the válleys. [Exeunt Gui. and Arv.
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!

These boys know little they are sons to th' king; They think that they are mine: but nature prompts

them,

In simple and low things, to prìnce it. Hark!
The game is rous'd!

[Exit.

Near Milford Haven.

Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN.

Imogen.

HOU told'st me, when we came from horse, the place

Was near at hand:-Pisanio! what's the

matter?

Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind?
Why tender'st thou that paper? Speak; 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.

her

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; but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me. Let thine own hands take away life: I shall give thee opportunity 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. [She faints. Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the

paper