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And left this head on.—How should this be? Pisanio!
'Tis he, and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O! 'tis pregnant, pregnant.
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten: 0!-
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us. O, my lord, my lord !
Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a
Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia,
After your will, have cross’d the sea; attending
You, here at Milford-Haven, with your ships :
They are here in readiness.
But what from Rome?
Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,
That promise noble service, and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
When expect you them?
Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.
This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.- Now, sir, What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose ?
Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision, (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence) thus:I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams : which portends, (Unless my sins abuse my divination) Success to the Roman host.
Dream often so,
And never false.—Soft, ho! what trunk is here,
Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building.—How! a page !
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather;
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let's see the boy's face.
He is alive, my lord.
Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.--Young
Inform us of thy fortunes ; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded. Who is this,
Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck ? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?
I am nothing: or if not,
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain.—Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
'Lack, good youth !
Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. [Aside.) If I do lie, and
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon.-Say you, sir?
Fidele, sir. Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
No less belov’d. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner,
Than thine own worth, prefer thee: go with me.
Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strewed his
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o’er, I'll weep, and sigh ;
And, leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.
Ay, good youth ;
And rather father thee, than master thee.—My friends,
The boy hath taught us manly duties : let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: come, arm him.—Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us, and he shall be interr’d,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes :
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
A Room in CYMBELINE's Palace.
Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and Pisanio. Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son; A madness, of which her life's in danger.—Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
Upon a desperate bed, and in a time
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone,
So needful for this present: it strikes me, past
The hope of comfort.- But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.
Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly set it at your will ; but, for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,
Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your high-
Hold me your loyal servant.
Good my liege,
The day that she was missing he was here:
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will, no doubt, be found.
The time is troublesome; We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy
[To PISANIO. Does yet depend.
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 amaz’d with matter.
Good my liege,
Your preparation can affront no less
Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're
The want is, but to put those powers in motion,
That long to move.
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!
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:
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.
Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
Gui. The noise is round about us.
Let us from it.
Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life", to lock it
From action and adventure ?
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.
We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the king's party there's no going: newness