Pifanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left his on. should this be, Pifanio?
How
Tis he and Malice and lucre in them

Cloten

Have laid this woe here. Oh, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he faid, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it

Murd'rous to th' fenfes that confirms it home:
This is Pifanio's deed, and Cloten's. Oh!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may feem to those
Which chance to find us. Oh, my lord! my lord!

Enter Lucius, Captains, and a Soothsayer.

Cap. To them, the legions garrifon'd in Gallia, After your will, have crofs'd the fea, attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your hips: They are in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The Senate hath ftirr'd up the Confiners, And Gentlemen of Italy, moft willing fpirits, That promife noble fervice: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,

Shenna's Brother.

Luc. When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o'th' wind.
Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our prefent numbers
Be mufter'd, bid the Captains look to't. Now, Sir,
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?
Sooth. Last night, the very Gods fhew'd me a vifion.
Hofaft, and pray'd for their intelligence)

I faw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From th fpungy fouth, to this part of the Weft,
There vanish'd in the fun-beams.; which portends
(Unless my fins abuse my divination)

Success to th' Roman Hoft.

Luc. Dream often so,

And never falfe! Soft, ho, what Trunk is here
Without his top? the ruin fpeaks, that fometime
It was a worthy building. How a page!.

Or dead, or fleeping on him? but dead, rather:
For Nature doth abhor to make his .couch

With the defunct, or fleep upon the dead.
Let's fee the boy's face.

Cap. He's alive, my lord.

Luc. He'll then inftruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for, it feems,

They crave to be demanded: who is this,

Thou mak'ft thy bloody pillow? (47) who was he,
That, otherwife than noble Nature did,

Hath alter'd that good picture? what's thy intereft
In this fad wreck? how came it, and who is it?
What art thou?

Imo. I am nothing; or if not,

Nothing to be, were better. This was my mafter,
A very valiant Britain, and a good,

That here by mountaineers lyes flain: alas !
There are no more fuch mafters: I may wander
From Eaft to Occident, cry out for fervice,
Try many, all good, ferve them truly, never
Find fuch another mafter.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'ft no lefs with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: fay his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lye, and do
No harm by it, though the Gods hear, I hope, [afide
They'll pardon it. Say you, Sir?

(47)

who was He,

That, other wife than noble Nature did,

Hath alter'd that good Picture?] This is far from being strictly grammatical. For the Conftruction of these Words is this; who has alter'd that good Picture, otherwife than Nature alter'd it? But That is not the Poet's Meaning. He defign'd to fay, if the Text be genuine; he hath alter'd that good Picture from what noble Nature at firft made it? By the Change of a fingle Letter, we come at another Sentiment, which, I think, much ennobles the Paffage; and, which, I have fufpected, was our Author's Reading.

who was He,

That, otherwife than noble Nature bid,
Hath alter'd that good Picture?

i. e. The Laws of Nature being against Murther. But I fubmit the Con
jecture to Judgment.

Luc.

1

Luc. Thy name?

Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Luc. Thou doft approve thy felf the very fame; Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name: Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not fay Thou thalt be so well master'd, but, be sure, No lefs belov'd. The Roman Emperor's letters, Sent by a Conful to me, fhould no fooner, Than thine own worth, prefer thee: go with me. Imo. I'll follow, Sir. But firft, an't please the Gods; I'll hide my mafter from the flies as deep

As thefe poor pickaxes can dig: and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' ftrew'd his Grave,

And on it faid a century of pray'rs,

(Such as I can,) twice o'er, I'll weep and figh And, leaving fo his fervice, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

Luc. Ay, good youth,

And rather father thee, than master thee.
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
Find out the prettiest dazied-Plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partizans
A Grave; come, arm him: boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
As foldiers can. Be chearful, wipe thine eyes.
Some Falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes to Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pifanio.

Cym. A Gain; and bring me word, how 'tis with

her;

A fever with the absence of her fon;

Madness, of which her life's in danger; heav'ns !
How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone! my Queen
Upon a defperate bed, and in a time

When

When fearful wars point at me! her fon gone,
So needful for this prefent! it ftrikes me, paft
The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Doft feem fo ignorant, we'll force it from thee
By a fharp torture.

Pif. Sir, my life is yours,

I fet it at your will: but for my mistress,

I nothing know where the remains; why, gone; Nor when the purposes Return. Befeech your Highnefs,

Hold me your loyal fervant.

Lord. Good my liege,

The day that he was miffing, he was here;
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his fubjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in feeking him,
And will no doubt be found.

Cym. The time is troublesome

We'll flip you for a season, but our jealousie
Do's yet depend.

Lord. So please your Majefty,

The Roman Legions, all from Gallia drawn,

Are landed on your coaft, with large fupply

Of Roman Gentlemen, by th' Senate fent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my Son and Queen!f am amaz'd with matter.

Lord. Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you're ready;

The want is, but to put these Powers in motion,

That long to move.

We fear not

Cym. I thank you; let's withdraw,
And meet the time, as it feeks us.
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at chances here.-.
-Away. -

Pif. I heard no letter from my mafter, fince
I wrote him, Imogen was flain. 'Tis ftrange;
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise
VOL. VI.

Ff

[Exeunt.

* Το

To yield me often tidings. Neither know I,
What is betide to Cloten; but remain

Perplext in all. The heavens ftill muft work;
Wherein I'm false, I'm honeft: not true, to be true.
These prefent wars fhall find, I love my Country,
Ev'n to the note o'th' King, or I'll fall in them;
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;
Fortune brings in fome boats, that are not fteer'd. [Ex.

SCENE changes to the Foreft.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Guid. The noife is round about us.

Bel. Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure?

Guid. Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us this way the Romans
Muft or for Britains flay us, or receive us

For barb'rous and unnatural Revolts

During their use, and flay us after.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains, there fecure us.
To the King's Party there's no going; newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a Render

Where we have liv'd: and fo extort from us
That which we've done, whofe anfwer would be death
Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, Sir, a doubt

(In fuch a time) nothing becoming you,

Nor fatisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely,

That when they hear the Roman horfes neigh,

Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

And cars fo cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will wafte their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel. Oh, I am known

Of