Is't possible it can be six miles yet?

I have gone all night: But, soft, no bedfellow:

Pray, how far

I will lie down and sleep. O, gods and goddesses! [Seeing the Body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope, I dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest-creatures; But 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt 3 of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.

faith,

Good

I tremble still with fear: But if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me: not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man! - The garments of Posthúmus!
I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his martial thigh:
The brawns of Hercules: but his jovial face -
Murder in heaven? How? -'Tis gone. — Pi-
sanio,

4

All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous 5 devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous. O Pisanio,
Pisanio, with his forged letters, hath

3 An arrow.

1 Judgment. 2 Seal the same contract. A face like Jove's. Lawless, licentious.

The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!.
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: 0, my lord, my lord!

Enter LUCIUS, a Captain, and other Officers, and a
Soothsayer.

Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea: attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome? Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits That promise noble service: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother.

Luc.

When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc.

This forwardness

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present

numbers

Be muster'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 show'd me a vision: (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus : I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, (Unless my sins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman host.

Luc.

And never false.

Dream often so, Soft, ho! what trunk is here, Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime It was a worthy building. How! a page

He is alive, my lord.

Imo.

Alas!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say, thy name.
Imo.

Fidele.
Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same :
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure,
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth, prefer thee: Go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the
gods,

I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes 7 can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd
his grave,

And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;
And, leaving so his service, 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 daisied 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 soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes:
Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt.

A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO. Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with

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.8
1 Lord.
Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront 9 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.

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. 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.

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
Drawn on with torture.

Gui.
This is, sir, a doubt,
In such a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.

Arv.

It is not likely, 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 exile 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.

8 Confounded by a variety of business.
1 Notice. 2 Revolters. 3 An account.

9 Encounter.

• Noticing us.

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 POST5 Deviating from the right way. 6 Incite, instigate.

HUMUS; he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom The princess of this country, and the air on't Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl 7, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit. The Battle continues, the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken then enter to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;

The lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but
The villainy of our fears.

Gui. Arv.

Stand, stand, and fight!

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

I did.

Another Part of the Field. Enter POSTHUMUS and a British Lord. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? Post. I did: Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Lord. Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: The king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

7 Clown.

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for his country; -athwart the lane,
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run
The country base 9, than to commit such slaughter;
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame,)
Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled,
Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men :
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! Stand;
Or we are Romans, and will give you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly; and may save,
But to look back in frown: stand, stand. These
three,

But by example (O, a sin in war,
Foulest in the beginners!) 'gan to look

The way that they did, and to grin like lions
Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began
A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon,

A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made: and now our cowards
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became

The life o' the need; having found the back-door open
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends
O'erborne i' the former wave: ten, chas'd by one,
Are now each one, the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown
The mortal bugso the field.

Lord.
This was strange chance:
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one :
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir.

Post.

'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend: For if he'll do, as he is made to do,

I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.

Farewell, you are angry. [Erit. This is a lord! O noble

Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him, where he struck: Being an ugly

monster,

'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find
him:

For being now a favourer to the Roman,
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again
The part I came in: Fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take; For me, my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers.

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken : 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront 2 with them.

1 Cap.

But none of them can be found. there?

Post. A Roman;

So 'tis reported:

Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds

1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you;

So, graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol.

Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome bondage! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty: Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd

By the sure physician, death; who is the key

To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd

More than my shanks, and wrists: You good gods, give me

The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt,
Then free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease ;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves 3,
Desir'd, more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me than my all.

I know, you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement; that's not my desire:
2 Encounter.
3 Fetters.

For Imogen's dear life, take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp ; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: You rather mine, being yours: And so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds.

I'll speak to thee in silence.

O Imogen !

[He sleeps. Solemn Musick. Enter, as an Apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, Father to POSTHUMUS, an old Man, attired like a Warrior; leading in his Hand an ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to POSTHUMUS, with Musick before them. Then, after other Musick, follow the two young Leonati, Brothers to POSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the Wars. They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping.

Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show,
Thy spite on mortal flies:

With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,

That thy adulteries

Rates and revenges.

Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?

I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd
Attending Nature's law.

Whose father then (as men report,

Thou orphans' father art,)

Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him

From this earth-vexing smart. Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid,

But took me in my throes:
That from me was Posthúmus ript,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,
A thing of pity!

Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair,

That he deserv'd the praise o' the world,

As great Sicilius' heir.

1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he

That could stand up his parallel;

Or fruitful object be

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,

To be exil'd and thrown

From Leonati' seat, and cast

From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?

Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,

To taint his nobler heart and brain,

With needless jealousy;

And to become the geck and scorn

O' the other's villainy?

2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,
Our parents, and us twain,

That, striking in our country's cause,
Fell bravely and were slain ;

Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,

With honour to maintain.

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
The graces for his merits due;
Being all to dolours turn'd?

4 The fool

The

JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting
upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt.
Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Ghosts fall on their knees.
Offend our hearing: hush!- How dare you,
ghosts,

Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;

No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,
The more delayed, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:

His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. - Rise, and fade ! – He shall be lord of lady Imogen,

And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine; And so, away: no further with your din

Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. —
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends.
Sici. He came in thunder: his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is

More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.

All.

Thanks, Jupiter!

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant roof: Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest.

[Ghosts vanish. Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot

A father to me; and thou hast created

A mother and two brothers: But (O scorn!)
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born.
And so I am awake. - Poor wretches that depend
On greatness' favour, dream, as I have done;
Wake, and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,

And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I,

That have this golden chance, and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare

one!

Be not, as in our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

[Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately