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What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
Your blessing, sir.
[Kneeling Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye
not ; You had a motive for’t.
[To Gui, and Arv. Cym.
My tears that fall,
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
I am sorry for’t, my lord.
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.
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foamed at the mouth, and
If I discovered 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 enforced from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My lady's honor. What became of him,
I further know not.
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
Marry, the gods forefend !
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence. Pr’ythee, valiant youth,
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 princelike; 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.
I am sorry for thee;
By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must
Endure our law. Thou art dead.
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Stay, sir king
This man 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; [To the Guard.
They were not born for bondage.
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By tasting of our wrath ? How of descent
As good as we?
In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die fort.
We will die all three;
But I will prove, that two of us 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.
Your danger is
Gui. And our good his.
Have at it, then.-
By leave ;—thou hadst, great king, a subject, who
Was called Belarius.
What of him? he is
A banished traitor.
He it is, that hath
Assumed this age:indeed, a banished man;
I know not how, a traitor.
Take him hence;
The whole world shall not save him.
Not too hot;
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons ;
And let it be confiscate all so soon
As I have received it.
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. Сут. .
How! my issue?
Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished.
Your pleasure was my mere offence,' my punishment
Itself, and all my treason: that I suffered,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are) these twenty year
Have I trained 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 moved her to't ;
Having received 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 shaped
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
the different appearance which he now makes in comparison with that when Cymbeline last saw him.
1 The old copy reads “neere offence;” the emendation is by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Belarius means to say, “ My crime, my punishment, and all the treason that I committed, originated in, and were founded on, your caprice only." VOL. VI.
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
Thou weep'st, and speak’st.'
The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tellist. I lost my children ;
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
Be pleased a while.-
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius.
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapped
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which, for more probation,
I can with ease produce.
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
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.
0, what am 1
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoiced deliverance more.--Blessed may you be,
That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!-0 Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by't.—0 my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you called me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.
e'er meet? Arv. Ay, my good lord.
1 “Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy relation; and I have the less reason to be incredulous, because the actions which you have done within my knowledge are more incredible than the story which you relate.” The king reasons very justly.
And at first meeting loved; Continued so, until we thought he died.
Cor. By the queen's dram she swallowed.
O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through ? This fierce - abridg
ment Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in.—Where? how lived
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 3 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 intergatories. 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.
Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me,
To see this gracious season.
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
My good master,
Happy be you! Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king.