This is a thing,

Post.
Which you might from relation likewise reap ;
Being, as it is, much spoke of.

Iach.
The roof o' the chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted: Her andirons $
(I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands.

Post. This is her honour! Let it be granted, you have seen all this, (and praise Be given to your remembrance,) the description Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves

The wager you have laid. Iach.

Then if you can, [Pulling out the Bracelet.

I should have lost the worth of it in gold.
I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy
What was in Britain mine. The ring is won.
Post. The stone's too hard to come by.
Iach.

Your lady being so easy.

Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
Iach.

Jove!

Make not, sir,

Post. Your loss your sport; I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends.

Iach.

Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant: Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger Of her, or you, having proceeded but By both your wills.

Post. If you can make't apparent, The ring is yours: If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them.

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not.

Post. 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: I am

sure,

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.
There, take thy hire: and all the fiends of hell
Divide themselves between you!

Phi.

Sir, be patient:

This is not strong enough to be believ'd Of one persuaded well of

Post.

Iach.

For further satisfying, under her breast
(Worthy the pressing,) lies a mole, right proud
Of that most delicate lodging: You remember
This stain upon her?

Post.

Ay, and it doth confirm

8 Ornamented iron bars which support wood burnt in chimneys,

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser? 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?

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 med'cinable ;) that is one of them, For it doth physick love; of his content, All but in that! - Good wax, thy leave: be, You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers, And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; Though forfeitures you cast in prison, yet

9 At the extremity of defiance.

2 To take in a town, is to conquer it.

Bless'd

Good news.

[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 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, increas ing 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? (Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; Then, true Pisanio, long'st,

who

O, let me bate, but not like me :- - yet long'st, -
For mine 's beyond beyond.) say, and speak thick ',
But in a fainter kind; - O, not like me;
(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
To 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 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, pre-

sently,

A riding suit; no costlier than would fit
A franklin's housewife.

Pis.
Madam, you're best consider.
Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

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

1 Well informed.

3 Confederate.

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,

Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allowed: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see:
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded 7 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 babe;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk :
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. 8
Gui. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor un-
fledg'd,

Have never winn'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 a-bed;

A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit. 9

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 are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
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 honour; 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'sey 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.

I'll meet you in the val[Exeunt Gui. and ARV. How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little, they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly

I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them,
In simple and low things to prince it, much
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom
The king his father call'd Guiderius, - Jove!
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out
Into my story: say, Thus mine enemy fell;
And thus I set my foot on his 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, Cadwal,
(Once, Arvirágus,) in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more
His own conceiving, Hark! the game is rous'd!
O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience, knows,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,

Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother,

And every day do honour to her grave:
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd,
They take for natural father. The game is up.

[E it.

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse,

the place

Was near at hand: - Ne'er long'd my mother so
To see me first, as I have now :- · Pisanio! Man!
Where is Posthúmus? What is in thy mind,
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that
sigh

From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus,
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond self-explication: Put thyself
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness
What's the matter?
Vanquish my staider senses.
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with
A look untender? If it be summer news,
Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st
But keep that countenance still. My husband's
hand,

Detested 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 even mortal to me.

1 For behaviour.