First Lord.

So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, 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 amazed with matter.

First Lord.

Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

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

30

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

Cym.

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

[Exeunt all but Pisanio.

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 honest; not true, to be
true.

40

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:

30. "than what you hear of"; "Your forces are able to face such an army as we hear the enemy will bring against us.”—H. N. H. 36. “I heard no letter" i. e. (?) "I've not had a line"; Hanmer reads "I've had"; Capell, "I have had"; Mason conj., and Warburton conj., adopted by Collier (ed. 2), "I had.”—I. G.

Fortune brings in some boats that are not

steer'd.

SCENE IV

[Exit.

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

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

Gui.

Bel.

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,

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

10

Among the bands-may drive us to a render
Where we have lived, and so extort from 's that
Which we have done, whose answer would be

Bel.

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 note, 20
To know from whence we are.

O, I am known
Of many in the army: many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not
wore him

From my
remembrance. And besides, the king
Hath not deserved 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 promised,
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

30

Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and veni-

son!

Never bestrid a horse, save one that had

A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

40

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 of your lives you

So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack'd one to more care.

boys!

set

Have with you,

50

If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie:
Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their
blood thinks scorn,

Till it fly out and show them princes born.

[Exeunt.

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I

Britain. The Roman camp.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.

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

Thou shouldst be color'd thus. You married

ones,

If each of you should 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

10

Had lived 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,