Confider, Your legs are young: I'll tread these flats. Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, unfledg'd, Have never wing'd from view o'th' neft; nor know, That have a fharper known: well correfponding Arv. What should we speak of, When we are old as you? when we shall hear Bel. How you speak! Did you but know the city's ufuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o'th' Court, Is certain falling; or fo flipp'ry, that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war; A pain, that only feems to feek out danger 1'th' name of fame and honour; which fearch, And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many time, dies i'th' Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worse, A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will, But, in one Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves; 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, Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years, 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 firft, fhall be the lord o'th' feaft; And we will fear no poifon, 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 fparks of nature! These boys know little, they are Sons to th' King; L 5 They They think, they're mine; tho' trained up thus mean ly (14) I'th' Cave, there, on the Brow, their thoughts do hit -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 fpeech, and fhews much more Thou reft'ft me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou waft their nurfe; they take thee for their mother, (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 imperfectly. The old Editions read, I'th' Cave, whereon the Bow their Thoughts do hit, &c. Mr. Rowe faw, this likewife was faulty; and therefore amended it thus: I'th' Cave, where, on the Bow, their Thoughts do hit, &c. I think, it should be, only with the Alteration of one Letter, and the Addition of another; Ith Cave, there, on the Brow, 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 used depùs, and Supercilium, And And every day do honour to her Grave; 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 firft, as I have now. 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 Pif. Please you, read; Speak, man; thy tongue which to read And you fhall find me, wretched man, a thing Imogen reads. I THY mistress, Pifanio, bath play'd the firumpet in my bed: the teftimonies whereof lye bleeding in me. Speak not out of weak furmifes, but from proof as ftrong 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 hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at MilfordHaven. 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 difconcur, and equally to me difloyal. Pif. What shall I need to draw my fword? the paper All corners of the world. Kings, Queens, and states, And cry my felf awake? that false to's bed! Pif. Alas, good lady! Imo. I falfe? thy confcience witnefs, lachimo,- 'Thou then look'dft like a villain: now, methinks, 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 Put on for villany: not born, where't grows; Pif. Madam, hear me Imo. True honeft men being heard, like falfe Æneas, Were in his time thought falfe: and Sinon's Weeping Did fcandal many a holy tear; took pity From moft true wretchednefs. So thou, Pofthumus, Goodly, and gallant, fhall be falfe and perjur'd, The |