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Your legs are young : I'll tread these fats. Consides,
When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lefsens and sets off ;
And you may then revolve what tales I told you,
Of Courts, of Princes, of the tricks in war;
That service is not service, so being done,
But being so allowd. 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. Oh, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check ;
Richer, than doing nothing for a bauble ;
Prouder, than ruftling in unpaid-for filk :
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd ; no life to ours.
Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, un-

fledg'd,
Have-never wing'd from view o'th' neft ; nor know,
What air's from home. Hap'ly, this life is beft,
If quiet life is best ; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known : well corresponding
With
your

stiff
age;

but unto us, it is
A cell of ign'rance; travelling a-bed ;
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
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
We're beastly ; subtle as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat :
Our valour is to chase what Aies; our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird,
And fing our bondage freely.

Bel. How you speak !
Did
you

but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o’th’ Court, As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb,

is

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Is certain falling ; or fo flipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
A pain, that only seems to seek out danger
l'th' name of fame and honour ; which dies i'th'

search,
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many time,
Doth ill deserve, by doing well : what's worse,
Muft curt'fie at the censure: -Oh, boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords ; and my Report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theam, 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 ba

to weather. Guid. Uncertain favour! 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 confed'rate with the Romans: so, Follow'd my banishment ; and, this twenty years, This rock and these demeasnes have been my world ; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom ; pay'd More pious debts to heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time. -But, up to th' moun

tains ! This is not hunters' language; he, that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o'ch' fealt; To him the other two shall minifter, And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater State : I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt Guid. and Arvir.

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little, they are Sons to th' King; Nor Cymbeline dreams, that they are alive.

They think, they're mine ; tho' trained up thus meag.

ly (14) I'th' Cave, there, on the Brow, their thoughts do hit The roof of Palaces ; and nature prompts them, In fimple and low things, to prince it, much Beyond the trick of others. This Paladour, (The heir of Cymbeline and Britaine, whom The King his father call'd Guiderius,) Jove! When on my three-foot-ftool I fit, and tell The warlike feats I've done, his spirits fly out Into my story: say, “ thus mine enemy fell, " And thus I set my foot on's neck"

-even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words - The

younger

brother Cadwall, (Once, Arviragus,) in as like a figure Strikes life into my speech, and shews much more His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rouz’d.. Oh Cymbeline! heav'n and my conscience know, Thou didft unjustly banith me: whereon, At three and two years old, I stole these babes; Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reftit me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wait their nurse ; they take thee for their mo

ther,

(14)

-tho" trained up thus meanly Here in the Cave, wherein their Thoughts do hit

The Roof of Palaces.Thus Mr. Pope; but the Sentence breaks off imperfe&ly. The old Editions read,

l'in' Cave, whereon the Bow their Thoughts do hit, &c. Mr. Rowe faw, this likewise was faulty, and therefore amended it thus :

I'tl' Cave, where, on the Bow, their Thoughts do hit, &c. I think, it hould be, only with the Alteration of one Letter, and the addition of another;

l'th' Cave, there, on the Brow,And so the Grammar and Syntax of the Sentence is compleat. We call the Arching of a Cavern, or Overhanging of a Hill, me• taphorically, the Brow; and in like manner the Greeks and Lasines used oppuso and Supersilium,

And

And every day do honour to her Grave ;
My self Belarius, that am Morgan call’d,
They take for natural father. The game's up. [Exit.

Enter Pifanio, and Imogen.
Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse,

the place Was near at hand. Ne’er long'd my mother fo To see me first, as I have now · Pisanio, Where is Pofthumus ? What is in thy mind, That makes thee ftare thus ? wherefore breaks that figh From th' inward of thee? one, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication. Put thy self Into a 'haviour of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my stayder senses

what's the matter? Why tender'ft thou that paper to me, with A look untender? if't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still. My husband's hand? That drug-damnd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be e'en mortal to me.

Pis. Please you, read;
And you shall find

me,
wretched

man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune.

Imogen reads.

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THY miffress, Pisanio, bath played the firumpet in my

bed: the testimonies whereof lye bleeding in me. Speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect ny revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me. If thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers, let thine hands take 4way her life: I shall give thee opportunity at MilfordHaven. She hath my letter for the purpose; where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the Pander to her disponcur, and equally to me dipozal. Pif

. What shall I need to draw my sword ? the paper Hath cut her throat already.

-No, 'tis flander;
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belye
All corners of the world. Kings, Queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the Grave
This viperous slander enters. What chear, Madam ?

Imo. False to his bed! what is it to be false?
To lye in watch there, and to think on him?
To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge nature,
To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry my self awake ? that false to's bed!

Pis. Alas, good lady!

Imo. I false ? thy conscience witness, lachimo,Thou didft accuse him of incontinency, 'Thou then look'dft like a villain : now, methinks, Thy favour's good enough. Some Jay of Italy (Whose mother was her painting) hath betray'd him: Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; And, for I'm richer than to hang by th' walls, I must be ript: to pieces with me: oh, Men's vows are womens' traitors.- All good Seeming By thy revolt, oh husband, hall be thought Put on for villany: not born, where't grows; But worn, a bait for ladies.

Pif. Madam, hear me

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Æneas, Were in his time thought false : and Sinon's Weeping Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Pofthumus, Wilt lay the leven to all proper men; Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd, From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou honeft, Do thou tny master's bidding: when thou seeft him, A little witness my obedience. Look! I draw the sword my self, take it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart; Fear not, 'tis empty of all things, but grief; Thy master is not there; who was, indeed,

The

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