By a fharp torture.

Pif. Sir, my life is yours,

I fet it at your will: but, for my

mistress,

I nothing know where the remains; why, gone;
Nor when the purposes return. 'Befeech your Highness,
Hold me your loyal fervant.

Lord. Good my Liege,

The day that he was mifling, he was here;
I dare be bound he's true, and fhall perform
All parts of his fubjection loyally. For Cleten,
There wants no diligence in fecking him,
And will no doubt be found.

Cym. The time is troublesome ;

We'll flip you for a feafon, but our jealoufy
Does yet depend.

Lord. So pleafe your Majefty,

The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coaft, with large fupply

Of Roman gentlemen, by th' fenate fent.

Cym. Now for the counfel of my Son and Queen!I am amaz'd with matter.

Lord. Good my Liege,

Your preparation can affront no lefs

Than what you hear of,

ready;

Come more, for more you're

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

Cym. I thank you; let's withdraw,

And meet the time, as it feeks us.
What can from Italy annoy us, but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.-

We fear not

[Exeunt. Pif. I heard no letter from my mafter, fince I wrote him, Imogen was flain. Tis firange; Nor hear I from my mistrefs, who did promife To yield me often tidings. Neither know I, What is betide to Cloten; but remain Perplext in all. The heavens ftill must work; Wherein I'm falfe, I'm honeft: not true, to be true: Thefe prefent wars fhall find, I love my country, Ev'n to the note o'th' King, or I'll fall in them;

All

All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd;

Fortune brings in fome boats, that are not steer'd. [Exit.

SCENE changes to the Foreft.

Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Guid. Bel. Let us from it.
TH

HE noife is round about us.

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

Guid. Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us ? this way the Romans
Muft or for Britons flay us, or receive us
For barb'rous and unnatural revolts

During their ufe, and flay us after.

Bel. Sons,

We'll higher to the mountains, there fecure us.
To the King's party there's no going; newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor mufter'd
Among the bands) may drive us to a render

Where we have liv'd: and fo extort from us
That which we've done, whofe anfwer would be death
Drawn on with torture.

Guid. This is, Sir, a doubt

(In fuch a time) nothing becoming you,

Nor fatisfying us.

Arv. It is not likely,

That when they hear the Roman horfes neigh,

Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

And ears fo cloy'd importantly as now,

That they will wafte their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel. Oh, I am known

Of many in the army; many years,

Though Cloten then but young, (you see,) not wore him
From my remembrance. And, befides, the King
Hath not deferv'd my fervice, nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding;
The certainty of this hard life, ay hopeless

Το

To have the courtefy your cradle promis'd;
But to be ftill hot fummer's tanlings, and
The fhrinking flaves of winter.

Guid. Then be fo, Better to cease to be.

Pray, Sir, to th' army;

I and my brother are not known; yourself

So out of thought, and thereto so o'er-grown,
Cannot be queftion'd.

Arv. By this fun that fhines,

I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never
Did fee man die, fcarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venifon?
Never beftrid a horfe fave one, that had
A rider like myself who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron on his heel? I am afham'd
To look upon the holy fun, to have
The benefit of his best beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

If

Guid. By heav'ns, I'll go;

you will blefs 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 fay I, Amen.

Bel. No reafon I (fince of your lives you fet
So flight a valuation) fhould 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 feems long: their blood thinks fcorn 'Till it fly out, and fhew them Princes born.

[Exeunt.

ACT

A

ACT V.

SCENE, a Field between the British and
Roman Camps.

Y

Enter Pofthumus, with a bloody handkerchief.

POSTHUM U S.

E A, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wisht,
Thou fhouldft be colour'd thus. You married ones
If each of you would take this courfe, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves,
For wrying but a little? oh, Pisanio!

Every good fervant does not all commands;

No bond, but to do just ones.

-Gods! if you

Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I ne'er
Had liv'd to put on this; fo had you fav'd

The noble Imogen to repent, and ftruck

Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack,
You fnatch fome hence for faults; that's love;
To have them fall no more :-you fome permit (25)

To fecond Ills with Ills, each werfe than other,

Τα

And make them dread it, to the Doers' thrift.] The Divinity-Schools have not furnished jufter Obfervations on the Conduct of Providence, than Pofbumus gives us here in his private Reflections. You Gods, fays he, act in a different manner with your different Creatures;

You fnatch fome bence for little Faults; that's Love;

To have them fall no more.

Others, fays our Poet, you permit to live on, to multiply and increase in Crimes,

And make them dread it, to the Doers' Thrift.

Here's a Relative without an antecedent Subftantive; which is a
Breach of Grammar, We must certainly read,

And

To fecond ills with ills, each worse than other,
And make them dreaded, to the doers' thrift..

But Imogen's your own: do your best wills,
And make me bleft t'obey! I am brought hither
Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady's kingdom; 'tis enough,
That, Britaine, I have kill'd thy miftrefs: Peace!
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heav'ns,
Hear patiently my purpose. I'll difrobe me
Of thefe Italian weeds, and fuit myfelf
As does a Briton peafant; fo I'll fight
Against the part I come with; fo I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, for whom my life
Is, every breath, a death; and thus unknown,
Pitied, nor hated, to the face of peril
Myfelf I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habits shew;
Gods, put the ftrength o'th' Leonati in me!
To fhame the guife o'th' world, I will begin
The fashion, lefs without, and more within.

[Exit.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army at one door; and the British army at another: Leonatus Pofthumus following like a poor foldier. They march over, and Then enter again in skirmish Iachimo and Posthumus; be vanquisheth and difarmeth Iachimo, and then

go out.

leaves him.

Iach. The heavinefs, and guilt, within my bofom, Takes off my manhood; I've bely'd a lady, The Princess of this country; and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me: or could this carle, A very drudge of nature, have fubdu'd me In my profeffion? Knighthoods, and honours borne, As I wear mine, are titles but of fcorn;

And make them dreaded, to the Doers' Thrift.

i. e. others you permit to aggravate one Crime with more; which Enormities not only make hem revered and dreaded, but turn in other kinds to their Advantage. Dignity, Refpe&t, and Profit, accrue to them from Crimes committed with Impunity.

If