(Where, I confess, I slept not, but, profess,
Had that was well worth watching.) it was hang'd
With tapestry of silk and silver; the story,
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for
The press of boats, or pride: a piece of work
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive
In workmanship, and value; which, I wonder'd,
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought,
Since the true life on't was-
Post.

This is true;

And so, I hope, he came by't.-Back my ring.Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this, for this was stolen.

Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm.
Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears.
'Tis true;-nay, keep the ring-'tis true. Iamsure,
She would not lose it: her attendants are

All sworn, and honourable :-they induc'd to steal it!
And by a stranger!-No, he hath enjoy'd her!
The cognizance of her incontinency

Is this:-she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly.

There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell

Divide themselves between you!

Sir, be patient.

Never talk on't;

If you seek

For further satisfying, under her breast

(Worthy the pressing) lies a mole, right proud

Did call my father, was I know not where
When I was stamped; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed
The Dian of that time; so doth my wife

The nonpareil of this. O vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't

Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her

As chaste as unsunn'd snow:-O, all the devils!This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,-was't not?Or less, at first; perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,

Cry'd "oh!" and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longings, slanders, mutability,

All faults that may be nam'd; nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part, or all: but, rather, all;
For even to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill,
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Erit.

LINE'S Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one door; and at another, CAIUS Lucius and Attendants.

Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?

Luc. When Julius Cæsar (whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears, and tongues, Be theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain, And conquer'd i it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, (Famous in Cæsar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserving it,) for him,

And his succession, granted Rome a tribute,

(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch The sides of the world,) against all colour, here Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off, Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. We do say, then, to Cæsar,

Is left untender'd.

Ere such another Julius. Britain is

A world by itself; and we will nothing pay, For wearing our own noses.

Queen.

That opportunity
Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors, together with

The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of con-
quest

Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of "came," and "saw," and "overcame:" with
shame

(The first that ever touch'd him) he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, (Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks. For joy whereof The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point (O, giglot fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, And Britons strut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no more such Cæsars: other of them may have crooked noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none.

Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as

Ordain'd our laws; whose use the sword of Cæsar Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and fran

SCENE II. Another Room in the Same.

Enter PISANIO.

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monsters her accuse? - Leonatus!
O, master! what a strange infection

Is fallen into thy ear! What false Italian
(As poisonous tongued, as handed) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing? -Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O, my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were

Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command?-I, her?-her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never

Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,
That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? "Do't. The letter [Reading.

That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity :"- damn'd paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee. Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo! here she comes.

Enter IMOGEN.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
Imo. How now, Pisanio!

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord: Leonatus.

O! learn'd indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not,
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him:
Some griefs are medicinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love;-of his content,
All but in that! Good wax, thy leave.-Bless'd be,
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike:
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables. -Good news, gods!
[Reads.

"Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice, that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of this advise you follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing in love,

"LEONATUS POSTHUMUS."

O, for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio ?
He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I

Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio,
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st, -
O, let me 'bate!-but not like me;-yet long'st,-
But in a fainter kind:-O! not like me,

For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick,
Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: and, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
T' inherit such a haven: but, first of all,

How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap

That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And our return, to excuse:-but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born, or e'er begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis.

One score 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you, and too much, too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to 's execution, man, Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers, Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i' the clock's behalf.-But this is foolery.Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say

She'll home to her father; and provide me, presently,
A riding suit, no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours. Stoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how t' adore the heavens, and bows you To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbands on, without Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.

Arv.
Hail, heaven!
Bel. Now, for our mountain sport. Up to yond'
hill:

Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off:
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see;
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold

Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O! this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a bribe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk :
Such gains the cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours.

Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledg'd,

Have never wing'd from view o'the nest; nor know

not

What air 's from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known, well corresponding
With your stiff age; but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling abed,
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.

Arv.
What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how
In this our pinching cave shall we discourse

And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must court'sy at the censure. O, boys! this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman swords, and my report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then, was I as a tree,

Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but, in one

night,

A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

search,

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft) But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans: so, Follow'd my banishment; and this twenty years This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time. But, up to the mountains!

This is not hunter's language. He that strikes
The venison first shall be the lord of the feast;
To him the other two shall minister,

And we will fear no poison, which attends