Good faith,

And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes.
Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.
I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, feared gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still; even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt.
A headless man!-The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg; this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face 1—
Murder in heaven?-How?-'Tis gone.-Pisanio,
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee!-Thou,
Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.-To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous!-Damned Pisanio
Hath with his forged letters,-damned Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!-O Posthumus! alas,

2

Where is thy head? where's that? ah me! where's

that?

Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart,

4

And left this head on.3-How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he and Cloten; malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it

Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home;
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! O!-
Give color to my pale cheek with thy blood,

1 "Jovial face" here signifies such a face as belongs to Jove. The epithet is frequently so used in the old dramatic writers.

2 Irregulous must mean lawless, licentious, out of rule. The word has not hitherto been met with elsewhere.

3 We must understand by "this head," the head of Posthumus; the head that did belong to this body.

4 i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conclusion.

That we the horrider may seem to those

Which chance to find us. O my lord, my lord!

Enter LUCIUS, a Captain, and other Officers, and a
Soothsayer.

Cap. To them the legions garrisoned in Gallia,
After your will, have crossed the sea; attending
You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships.
They are here in readiness.

Luc.

But what from Rome?

Cap. The senate hath stirred up the confiners,
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,
That promise noble service; and they come
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Sienna's brother.1

Luc. When expect you them?

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be mustered; bid the captains look to't.-Now, sir, What have you dreamed, of late, of this war's purpose? Sooth. Last night the very gods showed me a vision, (1 fast, and prayed, for their intelligence,) thus :— saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, winged

2

From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination)

Success to the Roman host.

Luc.

And never false.-Soft, ho!

Dream often so,

what trunk is here,

Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building.-How! a page!-

Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather;
For nature doth abhor to make his bed

With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.-
Let's see the boy's face.

1 Shakspeare appears to have meant brother to the prince of Sienna. He was not aware that Sienna was a republic, or possibly did not heed it. 2 Fast for fasted, as we have in another place of this play lift for lifted. Similar phraseology will be found in the Bible,

Cap.

He is alive, my lord.

Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.-Young

one,

Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,

They crave to be demanded; Who is this,

Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he,
That otherwise than noble nature did,1

Hath altered that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

Imo.

I am nothing; or if not,

Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,

wander

That here by mountaineers lies slain.-Alas!
There are no more such masters; I may
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

Luc.

2

'Lack, good youth,

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir?

Luc.

Imo.

[Aside.

Thy name?

Fidele, sir.

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same.
Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,
Thou shalt be so well mastered; but, be sure,
No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me.

Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep

1 Who has altered this picture, so as to make it otherwise than nature did it?

2 Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names (which sometimes are mixed with ancient ones), as well as for his anachronisms, to the fashionable novels of his time.

As these poor pickaxes1 can dig; and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strewed his

grave,

And on it said a century of prayers,

Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;

And, leaving so his service, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

Luc.

Ay, good youth;

And rather father thee, than master thee.-
My friends,

The boy hath taught us manly duties. Let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave. Come, arm him.2-Boy, he is preferred
By thee to us; and he shall be interred,
As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes;
Some falls are means the happier to arise.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, and PISANIO.

Cym. Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son;

A madness, of which her life's in danger;-Heavens,
How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen
Upon a desperate bed; and in a time

When fearful wars point at me, her son gone,
So needful for this present. It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort.-But for thee, fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee
By a sharp torture.

Pis.
Sir, my life is yours;
I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress,
I nothing know where she remains, why gone,

1 Meaning her fingers.

2 That is, "take him up in your arms."

Nor when she purposes return.
Hold me your loyal servant.

1 Lord.

'Beseech your highness,

Good my liege,

The day that she was missing, he was here;

I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform
All parts of his subjection loyally.

For Cloten,

There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will, no doubt, be found.

Cym. The time's troublesome;

We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy

[TO PISANIO.

Does yet depend.2
1 Lord.
So please your majesty,
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn,
Are landed on your coast; with a supply
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent.

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and queen!— I am amazed with matter.3

1 Lord.

4

Good my liege,

Your preparation can affront no less

Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're

ready.

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

Cym.
I thank you.
And meet the time, as it seeks us.
What can from Italy annoy us; but
We grieve at chances here.-Away.

Let's withdraw;
We fear not

[Exeunt.

Pis. I heard no letter 5 from my master, since I wrote him Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange. Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings. Neither know I

1 This omission of the personal pronoun was by no means uncommon in Shakspeare's age.

2 "My suspicion is yet undetermined." We now say, the cause is depending.

3 i. e. confounded by a variety of business.

4 "Your forces are able to face such an army as we hear the enemy will bring against us."

5 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, "I've had no letter." But perhaps “no letter" is here used to signify "no tidings," not a syllable of reply.