So much as this fact comes to? Do't; the letter

[Reading.

That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.'-O damned paper!
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary 2 for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter IMOGen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded."
Imo. How now, Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus?
O learned indeed were that astronomer,
That knew the stars, as I his characters;
He'd lay the future open.-You good gods,
Let what is here contained relish of love,

Of

my lord's health, of his content,-—yet not, That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,(Some griefs are med'cinable ;) that is one of them, For it doth physic love;-of his content,

Lovers,

All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave.-Blessed be
You bees, that make these locks of counsel!
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables.-Good news, gods!
[Reads.
Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me
in his dominions, could not be so cruel to me as you,

1 The words here read by Pisanio from his master's letter (as it is afterwards given in prose) are not found there, though the substance of them is contained in it. Malone thinks this a proof that Shakspeare had no view to the publication of his pieces-the inaccuracy would hardly be detected by the ear of the spectator, though it could hardly escape an attentive reader.

2 i. e. a subordinate agent, as a vassal to his chief. A feodary, however, meant also "a prime agent, or steward, who received aids, reliefs, suits of service, &c. due to any lord."-Glossographia Anglicana Nova, 1719, Yet, after all, it may be doubted whether Shakspeare does not use it to signify a confederate or accomplice, as he does federary in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. Sc. 1.

3 i. e. I am unpractised in the arts of murder.

4 As is here used for that. The word not in the next line, being accidentally omitted in the old copy, was supplied by Malone.

O the dearest of creatures, would not even renew me with your eyes. Take notice, that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven. What your own love will, out of this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing in love,1 LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.

O for a horse with wings!-Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Haven; read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I

Glide thither in a day?-Then, true Pisanio,

(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'stO let me 'bate, but not like me ;-yet long'st,But in a fainter kind-O not like me;

3

For mine's beyond beyond 2) say, and speak thick;
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is
To this same blessed Milford. And, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
To inherit such a haven. But, first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And our return, to excuse.-But first, how get hence:
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot! 5
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?

Pis. One score, 'twixt sun and sun,

Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding

wagers,

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands

1 We should now write "yours, increasing in love." Your is to be joined in construction with Leonatus Posthumus, and not with increasing. 2 i. e. her longing is further than beyond.

3 i. e. "speak quick."

4 That is, " in consequence of our going hence and returning back." 5 i. e. before the act is done for which excuse will be necessary.

6 This practice was, perhaps, not much less prevalent in Shakspeare's time than it is at present.

That run i' the clock's behalf.But this is foolery.— Go, bid my woman feign a sickness, say

She'll home to her father; and provide me, presently, A riding-suit; no costlier than would fit

A franklin's housewife.

Pis.

3

Madam, you're best consider.
Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee;
Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys. This gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arched so high, that giants may jet 5 through And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun.-Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.

Gui.

Arv.

Hail, heaven!

Hail, heaven!

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport. Up to yon hill; Your legs are young: I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow,

1 The sand of an hour-glass.
3 That is, "you'd best consider."

2 A franklin is a yeoman.

4 "I see neither on this side nor on that, nor behind me; but find a fog in each of those quarters that my eye cannot pierce. The way to Milford is alone clear and open. Let us therefore instantly set forward." By "what ensues," Imogen means what will be the consequence of the step I am going to take.

5 Strut, walk proudly.

That it is place which lessens, and sets off.

And you may then revolve what tales I have told you,
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war;
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allowed. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see;
And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded 2 beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a brabe;"
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncrossed: no life to ours.1

Gui. Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledged,

Have never winged from view o' the nest; nor know not
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling abed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.5

Arv.

What should we speak of,

When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing.
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey;
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat.
Our valor is, to chase what flies; our cage

1 "In any service done, the advantage rises not from the act, but from the allowance (i. e. approval) of it."

2 i. e. scaly-winged beetle.

3 The old copy reads babe; the uncommon word brabe not being familiar to the compositor. A brabe is a contemptuous or proud look, word, or gesture; quasi, a brave.

4 i. e. compared to ours.

5 To stride a limit is to overpass his bound.

We make a quire, as doth the prison bird,
And sing our bondage freely.

Bel.

How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,

And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that

The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger

I'the name of fame, and honor; which dies i' the search; And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph,

As record of fair act; nay, many times,

Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must court'sy at the censure.-O boys, this story
The world may read in me. My body's marked
With Roman swords; and my report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline loved me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off. Then was I as a tree,

Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night,
A storm or robbery, call it what you will,

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Uncertain favor!

oft)

Gui.
Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed
Before my perfect honor, swore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans. So,
Followed my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world;
Where I have lived at honest freedom; paid
More pious debts to Heaven, than in all

The fore-end of my time.-But, up to the mountains;
This is not hunters' language.-He that strikes
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast;
To him the other two shall minister;

And we will fear no poison, which attends

In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt GUI. and ARV.

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!