My Lady's honour: What became of him,
I further know not.

Guid. Let me end the story;

I flew him there.

Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend!

I would not thy good deeds fhould from my lips
Pluck a hard fentence: pry'thee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Guid. I've spoke it, and I did it.
Cym. He was a Prince,

Guid. A moft incivil one. The wrongs he did me
Were nothing Prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me fpurn the sea,
Could it fo roar to me. I cut off's head,

And am right glad he is not standing here
To tell the tale of me.`

Cym. I'm forry for thee;

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my Lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,

And take him from our prefence.

Bel. Stay, Sir King,

This man is better than the man he flew,
As well defcended as thy felf, and hath

More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens

Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone,
They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old foldier,

[To the Guard.

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,
By s'tempting of our wrath? how of defcent

As good as we?

Arv. In that he spake too far.

Cym. And thou fhalt die for't.

Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove that two on's are as good

this tale of mine. 5 tafting... old edit. Warb, emend.

As

As I've giv'n out of him. My fons, I muft
For mine own part unfold a dangerous fpeech,
Though haply well for you.

Arv. Your danger's ours.

Guid. And our good

yours.

Bel. Have at it then, by leave:

Thou hadft, great King, a fubject, who was call'd

Bellarius.

Cym. What of him? a banifh'd traitor.

Bel. He it is that hath

Affum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man,
I know not how a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence,

The whole world fhall not fave him.
Bel. Not too hot:

Firft pay me for the nurfing of thy fons,

And let it be confifcate all, fo foon

As I've receiv'd it.

Cym. Nurfing of my fons?

Bel. I am too blunt, and fawcy; here's my knee:
Ere I arife, I will prefer my fons,

Then fpare not the old father. Mighty Sir,
Thefe two young gentlemen that call me father
And think they are my fons, are none of mine,
They are the iffue of your loins, my Liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym. How? my iffue?

Bel. So fure as you, your father's; I, old Morgan,
Am that Bellarius whom you fometime banish'd;
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment
It felf, and all my treafon : That I fuffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. Thefe gentle Princes,
(For fuch and so they are,) thefe twenty years
Have I train'd up; fuch arts they have, as I
Could put into them. Sir, my breeding was,
As your Grace knows. Their nurfe Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, ftole thefe children

Upon

Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to❜t,
Having receiv'd the punishment before

For that which I did then. 7' Beatings for loyalty
Excited me to treafon. Their dear lofs,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it fhap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, Sir,
Here are your fons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'ft companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heav'ns
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To in-lay heav'n with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st:

The fervice that you three have done, is more
Unlike, than this thou tell'ft. I loft my children
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier fons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while

This gentleman, whom I call Paladour,
Moft worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger Princely fon; he, Sir, was lapt
In a moft curious mantle, wrought by th' hand
Of his Queen-mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a fanguine star,
It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natʼral stamp :
It was wife nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym. Oh, what am I?

A mother to the birth of three? ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more; bleft may you be,
That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! oh Imogen,
Thou'aft loft by this a Kingdom,

7 Beaten

Ime.

Imo. No, my Lord: I've got two worlds by't. Have we thus met? oh, But I am trueft fpeaker.

Oh my gentle brothers,
never fay hereafter
You called me brother

When I was but your fifter: I, you brothers,
When ye were fo indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good Lord.

Guid. And at first meeting lov'd,

8

Continu'd fo, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the Queen's dram fhe swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? this fierce abridgment
Hath to't circumftantial branches, which

Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv❜d you?
And when came you to ferve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how firft met them?
Why fled
you from the Court? 9'and whither? thefe
And your three motives to the battel, with

I know not how much more, fhould be demanded,
And all the other by-dependances

From chance to chance: but not the time nor place
Will ferve long interrogatories. See,
Poftbumus anchors upon Imogen;

And fhe, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her mafter; hittting
Each object with a joy. The counter-change
Is fev'rally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And fmoak the temple with our facrifices.
Thou art my brother, fo we'll hold thee ever.

[To Bellarius.

Imo. You are my father too, and did relieve me, To fee this gracious season.

Cym. All o'er-joy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,

For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo. My good master,

8 he 9 and whether these?... old edit. Theob, emend.

I

I will yet

do you service.

Luc. Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn foldier that fo nobly fought,

He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a King.

Poft. 'Tis I am, Sir,

The foldier that did company these three
In poor befeeming: 'twas a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd.

That I was he,

Speak, Iachimo, I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach. I am down again :

But now my heavy confcience finks my knee,

[Kneels.

As then your force did. Take that life, 'befeech you,
Which I so often owe: but your ring firft,
And here your bracelet of the trueft Princess
That ever fwore her faith.

Poft. Kneel not to me:

The power that I have on you, is to spare you:
The malice tow'rds you, to forgive you. Live,
And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freenefs of a fon-in-law;

Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You help'd us, Sir,

As you did mean indeed to be our brother;

Joy'd are we, that you are.

Poft. Your fervant, Princes.

(a)

Poft. Your fervant, Princes.

Good my Lord of Rome,

Call forth your Soothsayer: as I flept, methought
Great Jupiter upon his eagle back'd

Appear'd to me, with other fprightly fhews

Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found
This label on my bofom; whofe containing

Is fo from fenfe in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it. Let him fhew
His skill in the conftruction.

Luc. Philarmonus !

Сут.

Seath.