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He'd lay the Future open.- -You good Gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
lord's health, of his content;
That we two are asunder ; let that grieve him !
Some griefs are medicinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love ;---of his content,
All but in that, ---Good wax, thy leave,---Blest be
You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers,
And men in dang’rous bonds, pray not alike.
Though forfeitures you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables : good news, Gods !
(Reading. USTICE, and your father's wrath, should he take
me in his Dominions, could not be so ci uei to me; but you, oh the deareft of creatures, would 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 ioyal to his vow, and your increasing in love ;
Oh, for a horse with wings ! hear'st thou, Pifanio?
He is at Milford-Haven : read and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of inean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? then, true Pifanio,
Who long'it like me to see thy lord, who long'ft,
(Ob, let me 'bate) but not like me; yet long'it-
But in a fainter kind-oh, not like me ;
For mine's beyond, beyond--Say, and speak thick ;
Love's counsellor should fill the bores of Hearing
To th' smoth’ring of the Sense---How far it is
To this fame bletled Milford : and, by th' way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
T' inherit such a haven. But, first of all,
How may we iteal from hence ? and for the gap
That we shall make in time, from our hence going
Till our return, t'excuse--but first, how get hence ?
Why should excuse be born, or ere begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'yihee, speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?
Pif. One score 'tixt fun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you: and too much too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to’s execution, man,
Could never go fo flow : I've heard of riding wagers,
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That ran i' th' clock's behalf. But this is fool'ry.
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; fay,
She'll home t' her father: and provide me, present,
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit,
A Franklin's housewife.
Pif. Madam, you'd best consider.
Imo. * I see before me, man : nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, that have a fog in them, That I cannot look thro'. Away, I pr’ythee, Do as I bid thee; there's no more to say ; Accellible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt.
Changes to a Forest with a Cave, in Wales.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.
A wondle day not to keep house, with such
Instructs you how t'adore the heav'ns; and bows you To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs * I see before me, man : nor here nor there,
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them,
That I cannot look thro':- Shakespear says she can see before her, yet on which Side soever she looks, there is a Fog which she cannot see thro'. This Nonsense is occasioned by the corrupt reading of, But have fog, for, That have a ; and then all is plain. I fee before ine, (says she) for there is no Fog on any Side of me which I cannot see thro'.
Are arch'd so high, that Giants may jet through
And keep their impious Turbands on, without
Good-morrow to the Sun. Hail, thou fair heav'n!
We house i'th'rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
Guid. Hail, leaven !
Arv. Hail, heav'n!
Bel. Now for our mountain sport, up to yond hill,
Your legs are young: I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off;
And you may then revolve what tales I told you,
Of Courts, of Princes, of the tricks in war ;
That service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see :
And often, to our confort, shall we find
The fharded beetle in a safer hold,
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. Oh, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check ;
Richer, than doing nothing for a bauble ;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid for filk :
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd; no life to ours.
Guid.' Out of your proof you speak; we, poor,
Have never wing'd from view o'th' neft; nor know,
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life is best ; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known : well corresponding
age; but unto us, it is
A cell of ign’rance ; travelling a-bed ;
A prison, for a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.
Arv. Whai fhould 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're beastly; fubule as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat :
Our valour is to chase what flies ; our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird,
And fing our bondage freely.
Bel. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o'th' Court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb,
Is certain falling; or so slipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
A pain, that only seems to seek out danger
I'ih' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th'
search, And hath as oft a land'rous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many time, Doth ill deserve, by doing well : what's worse, Muit curt'fy at the censure :-Oh, boys, this story The world may read in me: my body's mark'd With Roman fwords ; and my Report was once First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me; And when a soldier was the thenic, 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.
Guid. Uncertain favour !
Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains (whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline, I was confed'rate with the Romans : so, Follow'd my banishment ; and, these twenty years, This rock and these deineafnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom ; pay'd More pious debts to hcaren, than in all
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to tb'mountains!
This is not hunters' language; he, that strikes
The venison furit, shall be the lord o' th' feast;
To him the other two shall minifter,
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater State :
I'll meet you in the valleys. (Exeunt Guid. and Arvir.
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature !
These boys know little, they are Sons to th' King;
Nor Cymbeline dreams, that they are alive,
They think, they're mine, *tho' trained up thus
meanly. I'th' Cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roof of Palaces ; and nature prompts them, In fimple and low things, to prince it, much Beyond the trick of others. This Paladour, (The heir of Cymbeline and Britaine, whom The King his father callid Guiderius,) Jove :-When on my three-foot-fool I fit, and tell The warlike feats I've done, his fpirits fly out Into my story : say, “ thus mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on's neck":
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats,
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture
That acts my words—The younger brother Cadwall,
(Once Arviragus.) in as like a figure
Strikes life into my speech, and shews much more
His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rouz’d-
Oh Cymbeline! heav'n and my conscience know,
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon,
At three and two years old, I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile,
-tho' trained up thus meanly, I'th Cave there on the brow, -]The old Editions read, I'th Cave, whereon the bow; which tho' very corrupt, will dired us to the true Reading, which when rightly pointed, is thus,
-the trained up thus meanly. I'th' Cave wherein they bow.
Warb. Vol. VIII.