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BRU. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
I will with patience hear; and find a time
Than to repute himself a fon of Rome
Is like to lay upon us.
CAS. I am glad that my weak words
Have ftruck but thus much fhew of fire from Brutus. SHAKESPEAR.
CHA P. XV.
BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS.
GOODLY day! not to keep house, with fuch Whofe roof's as low as ours: fee! boys, this gate Inftructs you how t' adore the heav'ns; and bows you To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs. Are arch'd fo high, that giants may jet through, And keep their impious turbands on, without Good morrow to the fun. Hail, thou fair heav'n! We house i' th' rock, yet ufe thee not fo hardly As prouder livers do.
GUID. Hail, Heav'n!
BEL. Now for our mountain fport, up to yond hill, Your legs are young. I'll tread thefe flats. Confider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which leffens and sets off:
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. Oh, this life
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
GUID. Out of your proof you fpeak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
That have a fharper known; well correfponding
ARV. What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? When we shall hear
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat.
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;
A pain that only feems to feek out danger
I' th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th' fearth, And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many time,
Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worfe
Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night,
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) fwore to Cymbeline,
I was confed'rate with the Romans: fo
Follow'd my banifhment; and, this twenty years,
Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; paid
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to th' mountains!
To him the other two fhall minifter,
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state.
DEAR Senfibility! fource inexhaufted of all that's pre
cious in our joys, or coftly in our forrows! thou chaineft thy martyr down upon his bed of ftraw, and it is thou who lifteft him up to Heaven. Eternal Fountain of our feelings! It is here I trace thee, and this is thy divinity which stirs within me not, that in fome fad and fickening moments,
my foul fhrinks back upon herself, and startles at deftruction'-mere pomp of words!-but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself-all comes from thee, great, great Senforium of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remoteft defert of thy creation. Touched with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish; hears my tale of fymptoms, and blames the weather for the diforder of his nerves. Thou givest a portion of it fometimes to the rough