How hard it is to hide the fparks of nature! Thefe boys know little they are fons to th' King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.

They think they're mine: 'and, though train'd' up thus meanly

"I'th' cave here on this brow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them
In fimple and low things to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Paladour,
(The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The King his father called Guiderius,) Jove!
When on my three-foot ftool I fit, and tell
The warlike feats I've done, his fpirits fly
2/Out at my ftory: fay, thus mine enemy fell,
And thus I fet my foot on's neck even then
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he fweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in pofture
That acts my words- The younger brother Cadwal,
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure

Strikes life into my fpeech, and fhews much more
His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rouz'd
Oh Cymbeline! heav'n and my confcience know
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon
At three, and two years old, I ftole these babes,
Thinking to bar thee of fucceffion, as

Thou 'reft'ft me of my lands.. Euriphile,

Thou waft their nurfe, they take thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to thy grave;

My felf Bellarius that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game's up.

SCENE

Enter Pifanio and Imogen.

[Exit.

IV.

Imo. Thou told'ft me when we came from horse, the

Was near at hand. Ne'er long'd + his mother fo
To fee him firft, as I have now. Pifanio,

5

Where is Pofthumus? What is in thy mind

That makes thee ftare thus? wherefore breaks that figh
From th' inward of thee? one but painted thus
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond felf-explication. Put thy felf
Into a 'haviour of lefs fear, ere wildness
-what's the matter?
Vanquish thy fteadier fenfes -
Why offer'it thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? if't be fummer news,
Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'ft

But keep that count'nance ftill. My husband's hand?
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him,
And he's at fome hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue
May take off fome extremity, which to read

Would be ev'n mortal to me.

Pif. Please you read,

And you fhall find me, wretched man, a thing
The most difdain'd of fortune.

Imogen reads.

ΤΗ HY mifrefs, Pifanio, bath play'd the ftrumpet in my bed: the teftimonies whereof lye bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak furmifes, but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pifanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers; let thine own bands take away ber life: I fhall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven. She bath 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 difloyal.

Pif. What fhall I need to draw my fword? the paper Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis flander, Whofe edge is fharper than the fword, whofe tongue Out-venoms all the worms of Nile, whofe breath

Rides

Rides on the pofting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world. Kings, Queens, and ftates,
Maids, matrons, nay, the fecrets of the grave
This viperous flander enters.

What chear, Madam?

Imo. Falfe to his bed! what is it to be falfe?

To lye in watch there, and to think on him?

To weep 'twixt clock and clock; if fleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him,

And cry my felf awake? that falfe to's bed!

Pif. Alas, good Lady!

Imo. I falfe? thy confcience witnefs, Iachimo, Thou didst accufe him of incontinency,

Thou then look'dft like a villain: now, methinks,

Thy favour's good enough. Some Jay of Italy,

Whofe feathers are her painting, hath betray'd him: Poor I am ftale, a garment out of fashion,

And for I'm richer than to hang by th' walls,

I must be ript: to pieces with me: oh,

Mens vows are womens traitors. All good feeming
By thy revolt, oh husband, fhall be thought
Put on for villainy: not born where't grows,
But worn, a bait for Ladies.

Pif. Madam, hear me

Imo. True honeft men being heard, like falfe Æneas, Were in his time thought falfe: and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity

From most true wretchednefs. So thou, Pofthumus,
Wilt lay the 7 level to all proper men;
Goodly and gallant fhall be falfe and perjur'd,
From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou honeft,
Do thou thy mafter's bidding when thou feeft him,
A little witness my obedience. Look!

I draw the sword my felf, take it, and hit
The innocent manfion of my love, my heart;
Fear not, 'tis empty of all things, but grief;
Thy mafter is not there; who was indeed
The riches of it. Do his bidding, ftrike;
L 3
7 leven

6 mother was

Thou

Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou feem'ft a coward.
Pif. Hence, vile inftrument!
Thou shalt not damn my hand.
Imo. Why, I must die;

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No fervant of thy mafter's.

'Gainst self-slaughter

There is a prohibition fo divine

That cravens my weak hand: come, here's my heart Something afore't foft, foft, we'll no defence;

Obedient as the scabbard!

[Opening her breast. What is here?

The fcriptures of the loyal Leonatus,

All turned to herefie? away, away,

[Pulling his letters out of her bofom.

Corrupters of my faith, you fhall no more

Be ftomachers to my heart: thus may poor fools
Believe falfe teachers: thofe that are betray'd
Do feel the treafon fharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worfe cafe of woe. And thou, Pofbumus,
That didft fet up my difobedience

Against the King my father, and didft make`
Me put into contempt even the fuits`
Of princely fellows; fhalt hereafter find
It is no act of common paffage, but
A ftrain of rarenefs: and I grieve my felf,
To think, when thou shalt be dif-edg'd by her
Whom now thou tir'ft on, how thy memory

Will then be pang'd by me-- Pr'ythee difpatch,
The lamb entreats the butcher.

Where's the knife?

Thou art too flow to do thy mafter's bidding,

When I defire it too.

Pif. O gracious Lady!

Since I receiv'd command to do this business,

I have not flept one wink.

Imo. Do't, and to bed then.

That fet my difobedience 'gainst the King, and mads't

Pif. 9 the fuits

Pif.

I'll wake mine eye-balls blind firft.`

Imo. 2/ Wherefore then

Didit undertake it? why haft thou abus'd
So many miles, with a pretence? this place?
Mine action? and thine own? our horfes labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd Court
For my being abfent? whereunto I never
Purpose return. Why haft thou gone so far,
To be unbent when thou haft ta'en thy ftand,
Th' elected deer before thee?

Pif. But to win time

To lose fo bad employment, in the which
I have confider'd of a courfe; good Lady,
Hear me with patience.

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary, fpeak.
I've heard I am a ftrumpet, and mine ear
(Therein falfe ftruck) can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But fpeak.

Pif. Then, Madam,

I thought you would not back again.
Imo. Moft like,

Bringing me here to kill me.

Pif. Not fo neither;

But if I were as wife as honeft, then

My purpose would prove well: it cannot be
But that my mafter is abus'd; fome villain,
And fingular in his art, hath done you both
This curfed injury.

Imo. Some Roman courtezan

Pif. No, on my life.

I'll give him notice you are dead, and fend him
Some bloody fign of it: for 'tis commanded

1 fhould do fo. You fhall be mifs'd at Court,
And that will well confirm it.

Imo. Why, good fellow,

What fhall I do the while? where bide? how live?

Or in my life what comfort, when I am

I'll break mine eye-balls first.

L 4

2 Ah, wherefore

Dead