ACT III. SCENE I.

Britain. A Room of State in Cymbeline's Palace.

Enter CYMBELINE, Queen, CLOTEN, and Lords, at one door; and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS, and Attendants.

Cym. Now fay, what would Auguftus Cæfar with us?
Luc. When Julius Cæfar (whofe remembrance yet
Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears, and tongues,
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain,
And conquer'd it, Caffibelan, thine uncle,
(Famous in Cæfar's praises, no whit less
Than in his feats deferving it,) for him,
And his fucceffion, granted Rome a tribute,

Yearly three thoufand pounds; which by thee lately
Is left untender'd.

Queen.

Shall be fo ever.

Clo.

And, to kill the marvel,

There be many Cæfars,

Ere fuch other Julius. Britain is

A world by itself; and we will nothing pay,
For wearing our own nofes.

Queen.

That opportunity,

Which then they had to take from us, to resume
We have again.-Remember, fir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors; together with
The natural bravery of your ifle; which stands

As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters;
With fands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,

But fuck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest

6

Cæfar

Cæfar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried
From off our coaft, twice beaten; and his fhipping,
(Poor ignorant baubles! on our terrible feas.
Like egg-fhells mov'd upon their furges, crack'd
As eafily 'gainft our rocks: For joy whereof,
The fam'd Caflibelan, who was once at point
(0, giglot fortune!) to master Cæfar's fword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons ftrut with courage.

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: Our kingdom is ftronger than it was at that time; and, as I faid, there is no more fuch Cæfars: other of them may have crook'd nofes; but, to owe such straight arms, none. Cym. Son, let your mother end.

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Caffibelan: I do not fay, I am one; but I have a hand.Why tribute? why fhould we pay tribute? If Cæfar can hide the fun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; elfe, fir, no more tribute, pray you now.

Cym. You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free: Cæfar's ambition,
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The fides o'the world,) against all colour, here
Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off,
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Ourselves to be. We do fay then to Cæfar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws; (whose use the sword of Cæfar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair, and franchise,
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,

Though

Though Rome be therefore angry;) Mulmutius,
Who was the first of Britain, which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd
Himself a king.

Luc.

I am forry, Cymbeline,

That I am to pronounce Auguftus Cæfar

(Cæfar, that hath more kings his fervants, than
Thyfelf domeftick officers,) thine enemy:
Receive it from me then :-War, and confufion,
In Cæfar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look
For fury not to be refifted :-Thus defy'd,

I thank thee for myself.

Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Cæfar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour;
Which he, to feek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance; I am perfect,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent
Which, not to read, would fhow the Britons cold:
So Cæfar fhall not find them.

Luc.

Let proof speak.

Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day, or two, or longer: If you feck us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our falt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows fhall fare the better for you; and there's an end.

Luc. So, fir.

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine: All the remain is, welcome.

• [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the fame.

Enter PISANO.

Pif. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accufer?-Leonatus!

O, master! what a strange infection

Is fallen into thy ear? What falfe Italian
(As poisonous tongu'd, as handed,) hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing ?-Disloyal? No:
She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, fuch affaults
As would take in fome virtue.-O, my master !
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were
Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her}
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command ?-I, her?-her blood?
If it be fo to do good fervice, never

Let me be counted ferviceable. How look I,

That I should seem to lack humanity,

So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter [Reading.

That I have fent her, by her own command

Shall give thee opportunity:—O damn'd paper!

Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary 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, Pifanio?

not

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord.

Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord? Leonatus ?
O, learn'd 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 contain'd 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 phyfick love;-of his content,

All but in that!-Good wax, thy leave :-Bleft be,
You bees, that make these locks of counfel! Lovers,
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.

Fuftice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be fo cruel to me, as you, 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, increafing in love,

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 Pifanio,

(Who long'ft, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,O, let me 'bate,-but not like me :-yet long'ft,

But in a fainter kind :-O, not like me;