Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen! I am amaz'd with matter.

1 Lord.

Good my liege,

Your preparation can affrontt no less.

Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready:

The want is, but to put those powerst in motion,
That long to move.

Cym.
I thank you: Let's withdraw:
And meet the time, as it seek us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.

[Exeunt.

Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain: 'Tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings; Neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain

Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work: Wherein I am false, I am bonest; not true, to be

true.

These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o'the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.

• Confounded by a variety of business.

+ Encounter.

Notice,

Forces.

[Exit,

SCENE IV.

Before the cave.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

· Bel.

Let us from it.

Aro. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure?

Gui.

Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans

Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts

During their use, and slay us after.

Sons,

Bel.
We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.

To the king's party there's no going; newness

Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render+

Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us

That which we've done, whose answer would be death

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will waste their time upon our notet,
To know from whence we are.

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore

him

From my remembrance. And, besides, the king
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves;
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Gui.

Than be so, Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: I and my brother are not known; yourself, So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Cannot be question'd.

Arv.

By this sun that shines,
I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never
Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!
Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had

A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd

To look upon the holy sun, to have

The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Gui.

By heavens, I'll go:

If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by

The hands of Romans!

Arv.

So say I; Amen.

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve

My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys: If in your country wars you chance to die,

That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:

Lead, lead. The time seems long; their blood

thinks scorn,

[Aside.

[Exeunt.

Till it fly out, and show them princes born.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A field between the British and Roman camps.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.

Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd

Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you would take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little?-O, Pisanio!

Every good servant does not all commands:
No bond, but to do just ones.-Gods! if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck

Me wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
To have them fall no more: you some permit
To second ills with ills, each elder worse;
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.
But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills,
And make me bless'd to obey!-I am brought hither
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight

Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good hea

vens,

Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself
As does a Britou peasant: so I'll fight
Against the part I come with; so I'll die

* Deviating from the right way.
t Incite, instigate.

For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown,
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril

Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within. [Exît.

SCENE II.

The same.

Enter at one side, Lucius, Tachimo, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; Leo. natus Posthumus following it, like a pour soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth lachimo, and then leaves him.

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl*, A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn.

If that thy gentry, Britain, go before

This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods.

* Clown.

[Exit.