Nor what ensues, but have a fog in Ken, [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Foreft with a Cave, in Wales. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A Goodly day! not to keep house, with such Whofe roof's as low as ours; fee, boys! this gate Inftructs you how t'adore the heav'ns; and bows you Guid. Hail, heaven! Arv. Hail, heav'n! Bel. Now for our mountain fport, up to yond hill, And you may then revolve what tales I told you, in profpect, within Sight, before my Eyes. So, afterwards, in this Play; Milford, When from the Mountain-top Pifanio fhew'd thee, Thou waft within a Ken. So, in zd Henry IV. For, lo! within a Ken our Army lies. And in many other Paffages. Than 7 Than is the full-wing'd eagle. Oh, this life Guid. Out of your proof you fpeak; we, poor, unfledg'd, Have never wing'd from view o'th' neft; nor know, That have a sharper known: well corresponding A cell of ign'rance; travelling a-bed, Arv. What should we speak of, When we are old as you? when we fhall hear Bel. How you speak! Did you but know the city's ufuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o'th' Court, The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war; And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many time, Doth ill deferve, by doing well: what's worse, Muft curt'fie at the cenfure:- Oh, boys, this story The world may read in me: my body's mark'd With Roman fwords; and my Report was once Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night, A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves; And left me bare to weather. Guid. Uncertain favour! Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains (whofe falfe oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline, I was confed'rate with the Romans: fo, Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years, This rock and these demefnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; pay'd More pious debts to heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time. tains! But, up to th' moun This is not hunters' language; he, that strikes And we will fear no poifon, which attends I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt Guid. and Arvir. How hard it is to hide the fparks of nature! These boys know little, they are Sons to th' King; They think, they're mine; tho' trained up thus meanly (31) (31) tho' trained up thus meanly Here in the Cave, wherein their Thoughts do hit The Roof of Palaces. -] I'th' Thus Mr. Pope; but the Sentence breaks off imperfectly. The old Editions read, Ith Cave, whereon the Bow their Thoughts do hit, &c." Mr. Rowe faw, this likewife was faulty; and therefore amended it thus: Ith Cave, where, on the Bow, their Thoughts do hit, &c. I think, it fhould be, only with the Alteration of one Letter, and the Addition of another; I'th' Cave, there, on the Brow, And I'th' Cave, there, on the Brow, their thoughts do hit Strikes life into my fpeech, and thews much more At three and two years old, I ftole these babes; Thou reft'ft me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou waft their nurfe; they take thee for their mo ther, And every day do honour to her Grave; My felf Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, They take for natural father. The game's up. [Exit. And fo the Grammar and Syntax of the Sentence is compleat. We call the Arching of a Cavern, or Overhanging of a Hill, metaphorically, the Brow; and in like manner the Greeks and Latines ufed depus, and Supercilium. (32) This Polydore,] Tho' the Name be feveral times writ thus in the Old Books, I am perfuaded it is not as the Author intended. It is a Compound purely Greek, without the Turn or Foundation of a British Name. The firft Time this Name is mention'd in both the old Folio's, it is written Paladour, as I have reform'd the Text; because this, as well as Cadwal, is of the British Caft. What Pala in the first Name, or Wal in the other, may fignify, I am not deep enough in Cambrian to know; but dour, or dhür, means, profluens aque; as Câd, does, Capat. Enter Enter Pifanio, and Imogen. Imo. Thou told'ft me, when we came from horfe, the place Was near at hand. Ne'er long'd my mother fo Pifanio, Where is Pofthumus? What is in thy mind, That makes thee ftare thus? wherefore breaks that figh what's the matter? Why tender'ft thou that paper to me, with 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 moft difdain'd of fortune. Imogen reads. THY mistress, 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 frong 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 hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven. She bath my letter for the purpose; where, if thou fear to frike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and equally to me difloyal. |