SCENE III.

A room in Cymbeline's palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.

Cym. Again; and bring me word, how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son;

A madness, of which her life's in danger:-Heavens,
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
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.

Sir, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will: But, for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your highness,

Hold me your loyal servant.

1 Lord.
Good my liege,
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,
And will, no doubt, be found.

Сут.
We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy

The time's troublesome :

[To Pisanio.

Does yet depend.
1 Lord.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen! I am amaz'd with matter*.

1 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 those powers‡ in motion, That long to move.

Сут. 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.Away.

[Exeunt. Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange : Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings; Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain

Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : Wherein I am false, I am honest; not true, to be

true.

These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note § o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd. [Exit.

SCENE IV.

Before the cave.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

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

Gui.

Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans

* Confounded by a variety of business.

Forces.

+ Encounter.

§ Notice.

Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts*
During their use, and slay us after.

Sons,

Bel. We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going; newness Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render + Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us That which we've done, whose answer would be death

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will waste their time upon our note ‡,
To know from whence we are.

Bel.

O, I am known

Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore

him

From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exíle the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Than be so,

Gui.
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army:
I and my brother are not known; yourself,
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,
Cannot be question'd.

Arv.

By this sun that shines,

I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never

* Revolters.

VOL. IX.

+ An account.
I

Noticing us.

Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison?
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd

To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Gui.
By heavens, I'll go :
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!

Arv.

So say I; Amen.

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve

My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: If in your country wars you chance to die,

That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:

Lead, lead. The time seems long; their blood

thinks scorn,

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

[Aside.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. A field between the British and Roman camps.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.

Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd

Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you would take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves, For wrying but a little?-O, Pisanio!

Every good servant does not all commands: No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you * Deviating from the right way.

Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on* this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck

Me wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey!—I am brought hither
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril

Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within. [Exit.

SCENE II.

The same.

Enter at one side, Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; Leonatus Posthumus following it, like a poor soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus : he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady,

* Incite, instigate.