Thyself domestic officers) thine enemy.
Receive it from me, then. War, and confusion,
In Cæsar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be resisted.

I thank thee for myself.
Cym.

Thus defied,

Thou art welcome, Caius.

Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms; a precedent
Which not to read would show the Britons cold:
So Cæsar shall not find them.

Luc.

Let proof speak.

Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastimè with us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-walter girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours. If you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end.

Luc. So, Sir.

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine: All the remain is, welcome.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the Same.

Enter PISANIO.

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monsters her accuse? - Leonatus!

O, master! what a strange infection

Is fallen into thy ear! What false Italian

(As poisonous tongued, as handed) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing? - Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. — O, my master!

[Exeunt.

Thy mind to her is now as low, as were

Thy fortunes.

How! that I should murder her?

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? "Do 't. The letter

That I have sent her, by her own command

Shall give thee opportunity:" - O damn'd paper!

Black as the ink that's on thee. Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo! here she comes.

Enter IMOGen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

Imo. How now, Pisanio!

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord: Leonatus.

O! 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 medicinable; that is one of them, For it 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 vou cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.

Good news,

gods!

[Reading.

[Reads.

"Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as 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, ne wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, încreasing in love,

O, for a horse with wings!

"LEONATUS POSTHUMUS."

Hear'st thou, Pisanio?

He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me

How far 't is 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,
O, let me 'bate! - but not like me; yet long'st,
But in a fainter kind: -O! not like me,
For mine's beyond beyond) say, and speak thick,
(Love's counsellor 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,
And our return, to excuse :
Why should excuse be born,
We'll talk of that hereafter.

from our hence-going,

but first, how get hence.
or e'er begot?
Pr'ythee, speak,

How many score of miles may we well ride 'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.

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 have 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 'Il home to her father; and provide me, presently,
A riding suit, no costlier than would fit

A franklin's housewife.

Pis.

Imo.

Madam, you're best consider.

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

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGus.
Bel. A 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 bows you
To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbands 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.

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 you may then revolve what tales I have 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 him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours.

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not
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, travelling abed,
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.

Arv.

What should we speak of,

When we are old as you? when we shall hear
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 valour is, to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

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 of the war,

A pain that only seems to seek out danger

I' the name of fame, and honour; 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 night,