Imatges de pàgina

He is a man; I'll love him as my brother :
And such a welcome as I'd give to him,
After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall ’mongst friends.

Imo. 'Mongst friends,
If brothers — Would it had been so that they
Had been my father's sons; then had my 'priceAfide,
Been less, and so more equal 4 balancing
To thee, Posthumus.

Bel. He wrings at some distress.
Guid. Would I could free't!

Arv. Or I, whate'er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger ; Gods !
Bel. Hark, boys.

Imo. Great men,
That had a Court no bigger than this cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them, laying by
That nothing-gift of s/defering' multitudes,
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, Gods,
I'd change my sex to be companion with them,
Since Leonatus is. false.

Bel. It shall be fo:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in ;,
Discourse is heavy, fasting ; when we've supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak.

Guid, I pray draw near.
Arv. The night to th' owl, and morn to th' lark, lefs


SCENE (a) less welcome!

[Excunt, SCENE VIII. Rome.

Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.
I Sen.

His is the tenor of the Emperor's writ ;

That since the common men are now in action
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians,
And that the legions now in Gallia, are

Full 3 prize 4 ballafting 5 differing. . , old edit. Tbieb. emend..


CYMBEL IN E's Palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pifanio: . . Gain ; and bring me word how 'tis with her ;

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 desperate bed, and in a time
When fearful wars point at me! her son gone,
So needful for this present! it strikes me, past
The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow,
Who needs'must know of her departure, and
Doft seem fo ignorant, we'll force it from thee
By a sharp torture.

. Sir, my life is yours,
I set it at your will: but for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return. "Beseech/you,

Hold me your loyal servant.
Lord. Good my Liege,
M 2

Full weak to undertake our war against
The fall’n off Britons ; that we do incite
The gentry to this business. He creates
Lucius Pro-consul: and to you the Tribunes
For this immediate levy, he commands
His absolute commission. Long live Cæfar!

Tri. Is Lucius Gen'ral of the forces ?
2 Sen. Ay.
Tri. Remaining now in Gallia ?

1 Sen. With those legions
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy.
Must be fappliant': the words of your commillion
Will tie you to the numbers and the time
of their dispatch.
Tri. We will discharge our duty,

(Exiunt. 6 your highness

The day that she was missing, he was here ;
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
7' He' will no doubt be found.

Cym. The time is troublesome;
We'll Nip you for a season, but our jealousig
Do's yet depend.

Lord. So please your Majesty,
The Roman legions all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast, with large supply
Of Roman Gentlemen, by th' Senate sent.

Cymb. Now for the counsel of my son and Queen :
I 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

The want is, but to put these powers in motion,
That long to move.

Cym. I thank you ; let's withdraw
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at chances here. S'Come, let's away.'

[Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords.
Pif. '9 I've had no letter from my master, since
I wrote him Imogen was Nain. 'Tis strange;
Nor hear 1 from my mistress, who did promise
To yield me often tidings. Neither know I
What is betid to Cloten, but remain
Perplext in all. The heavens ftill must work ;
Wherein I'm false, I'm honeft; "not true, true.'
These present wars shall find I love my country,
Ev'n to the note o'ch' King, or l'll fall in them ;
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steerd. (Exit.

ACT 8 Away. 9 I heard

I not true, to be truc.

7 And


S C Ε Ν Ε Ι.

Tbe Forest.

Enter Cloten alone.

I eo

sanio have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments serve me! why Should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too ? the rather, (saving reverence of the word,) because 'cis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman ; I dare speak it to my self, for it is no vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber ; I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions ; yet this : Vill-perseverant thing loves him in my despight. What mortality is! Postbumus, thy head which is now growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforc'd, thy garments cut to pieces before ''her face; and all this done, * 'I'll spurn her home to her father, who may, happily, be a little angry for my so rough usage ; but my mother having power of his testiness, shall

turn all into my commendations. My horse is ty'd up safe : out, sword, and to a sore purpose! fortune put them into my hand! this is the very description of their meeting-place, and the fellow dares not deceive

(Exit. 2 imperseverant · 3 thy .... eld edir. Warb, omend. 4 spurn


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Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen,

from the Cave. Bel. You are not well : remain here in the cave We'll come t' you after hunting.

Arv. Brother, stay here :
Are we not brothers ?

Imo. So man and man fhould be,
But clay and clay differs in dignity,
Whose dust is both alike. I'm very fick.
Guid. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him.

Imo. So sick I am not, yet I am not well,
But not so citizen a wanton, 'as
To seem to die, ere sick: so please you, leave me,
Stick to your journal course; the breach of custom,
Is breach of all. I'm ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort
To one not fociable: I'm not very fick,
Since I can reason of't. Pray you trust me here,
I'll rob none but my self, and let me die
Stealing fo poorly.

Guid. I love thee: I have spoke it ;
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
As I do love my father.

Bel. What? how? how?

Arv. If it be fin to say fo, Sir, I yoak me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth, and I have heard you say,
Love reasons without reason. The bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
My father, not this youth.

Bel. Oh noble strain!

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