So much as this fact comes to? Do't; the letter [Reading. That I have sent her, by her own command I am ignorant in what I am commanded. Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave.-Blessed be You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! [Reads. Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominions, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would not 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? For mine's beyond beyond) say, and speak thick; To this same blessed Milford. And, by the way, How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap Pis. One score, twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too. Imo. Why, one that rode to his 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. Pis. Madam, you're best consider [Exeunt. SCENE III. Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave. 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 to adore the heavens; and bows you To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arched so high, that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans 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. Gui. Arv. Hail, heaven! Hail, heaven! Bel. Now, for our mountain sport. Up to yon 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, Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine, Gui. Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledged, Have never winged 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 Arv. Bel. And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court, Is certain falling, or so slippery, that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of the war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' the name of fame, and honor; which dies i' the search; 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 With Roman swords; and my report was once Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, And left me bare to weather. Gui. Uncertain favor! Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft) But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed Before my perfect honor, swore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans. So, Followed my banishment; and, this twenty years, This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world; Where I have lived at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to Heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time.- But, up to the mountains; And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt GUI. and ARV. How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to the king; They think they are mine; and, though trained up thus meanly I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more Thou didst unjustly banish me; whereon, At three, and two years old, I stole these babes; Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, They take for natural father. The game is up. [Exit. SCENE IV. Near Milford-Haven. Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN. Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand. Ne'er longed my mother so That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh Beyond self-explication. Put thyself Into a 'havior of less fear, ere wildness A look untender? If it be summer news, But keep that countenance still.-My husband's hand! And he's at some hard point.-Speak, man; thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. Pis. Please you, read; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdained of fortune. Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life; I shall give thee opportunities 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 dishonor, and equally to me disloyal. Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper |