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; Lord. Good my Liege, The day that he was mifling, he was here; Cym. The time is troublesome ; We'll flip you for a feafon, but our jealoufy Lord. So pleafe your Majefty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, 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, Cym. I thank you; let's withdraw, And meet the time, as it feeks us. 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. 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 During their ufe, and flay us after. Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains, there fecure us. Where we have liv'd: and fo extort from us 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 Bel. Oh, I am known Of many in the army; many years, Though Cloten then but young, (you see,) not wore him Το To have the courtefy your cradle promis'd; 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, Arv. By this fun that fhines, I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never If Guid. By heav'ns, I'll go; you will blefs me, Sir, and give me leave, Arv. So fay I, Amen. Bel. No reafon I (fince of your lives you fet My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys; 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 Y Enter Pofthumus, with a bloody handkerchief. POSTHUM U S. E A, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wisht, 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 The noble Imogen to repent, and ftruck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack, 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 And To fecond ills with ills, each worse than other, But Imogen's your own: do your best wills, [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 |