Cym. O! she was naught; and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely: but her son

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pis.

Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth.

Upon my lady's missing, came to me

My lord,

Lord Cloten,

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and

swore,

If I discover'd not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death. By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket, which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him,

I farther know not.

Gui.

I slew him there.

Cym.

Let me end the story.

Marry, the gods forefend!

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,

Deny't again.

Gui.

I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one.

The wrongs he did me

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head;

And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym.
I am sorry for thee':
By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must

5 I am SORRY for thee :] The folio, 1623, has sorrow for "sorry," which last was substituted in the folio, 1632, and from thence it was transferred to the other folios.

This is better than the man he slew,

As well descended as thyself; and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for.-Let his arms alone;

They were not born for bondage.

[To the Guard.

Cym. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent

As good as we ?

Arv.

In that he spake too far.

We will die all three:

Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel.
But I will prove that two on's are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must
For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,

Though, haply, well for you.

Arv.

Gui. And our good his.

Bel.

Your danger's ours.

Have at it, then, by leave.

Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who was call'd

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man;

I know not how, a traitor.

Cym.

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel.

Take him hence.

Not too hot:

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;

And let it be confiscate all, so soon

As I have receiv'd it.

Cym.

Nursing of my sons?
Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy; here's my knee:
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine:
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym.

How! my issue?

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd

Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train'd up; those arts they have, as I
Could put into them: my breeding was, sir, as
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason. Their dear loss,

The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world.-
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym.

Thou weep'st, and speak'st.

Your pleasure was my MERE offence,] The meaning of " mere in this place is evident, viz. the mere offence I committed was what your pleasure considered a crime : the first folio having misprinted it neere, it became near in the later folios, and some editors would substitute dear.

VOL. VIII.

S

The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children:
If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel.

Be pleas'd a while.—
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,

Most worthy prince, as your's is true Guiderius :
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,

Your younger princely son: he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.

Cym.

Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star:
It was a mark of wonder.

Bel.

This is he,

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
It was wise nature's end in the donation,

To be his evidence now.

Cym.

O! what am I

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more.-Bless'd pray you be',
That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now.-O Imogen!
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo.

No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by't.-O, my gentle brothers!
Have we thus met? O! never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,

When you were so indeed 3.
Cym.

Did

you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good lord.

7 Bless'd PRAY you be,] i. e. I pray that you may be blessed. Modern editors needlessly change “pray” of all the old copies into may.

8 When you were so indeed.] The folio has wre for "you;" probably a misprint, which was corrected by Rowe.

Gui.

And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym.
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment"
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which

Distinction should be rich in.-Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court, and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, should be demanded,
And all the other by-dependencies,

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place,
Will serve our long inter'gatories'. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy: the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.—
Thou art my brother: so we'll hold thee ever.

[TO BELARIUS. Imo. You are my father, too; and did relieve me, To see this gracious season.

Cym.

All o'erjoy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,

For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo.

I will yet do you service.

My good master,

9 This FIERCE abridgment] Shakespeare here, and in a few other places in his works, uses the epithet "fierce" with some peculiarity: in “Love's Labour's Lost" we have had "fierce endeavour," and in "Timon of Athens," "fierce wretchedness."

1 Will serve our long INTER'GATORIES.] Apparently so pronounced in the time of Shakespeare, and sometimes so printed, as in "All's Well that Ends Well," Vol. iii. p. 287, where the sentence is only prose; and in "The Merchant of Venice," Vol. ii. p. 563, where the word occurs in verse twice. In the passage in our text it is printed interrogatories.