After your will, have crofs'd the fea; attending Luc. But what from Rome? Cap. The fenate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; moft willing fpirits, That promise noble fervice: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother, Luc. When expect you them ? Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our prefent numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.-Now, fir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose ? Sooth. Laft night the very gods show'd me a vifion : (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :I faw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing`d From the spungy fouth to this part of the west, There vanith'd in the funbeams: which portends, (Unless my fins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman hoft. Luc. Dream often fo, And never falfe.-Soft, ho! what trunk is here, With the defunct, or fleep upon the dead.- Cap. He is alive, my lord. Luc. He'll then inftruct 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, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest Imo. I am nothing or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, That here by mountaineers lies flain :-Alas! Try many, all good, ferve truly, never Luc. 'Lack, good youth! Thou mov'ft no less with thy complaining, than Luc. Imo. [Afide. Thy name? Fidele. Luc. Thou doft approve thyself the very fame : Imo. I'll follow, fir. But, firft, an't please the gods, I'll hide my mafter from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have ftrew'd his grave, And on it faid a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and figh; And, And, leaving fo his fervice, follow you, So please you entertain me. Luc. Ay, good youth; And rather father thee, than mafter thee. The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us As foldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: [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 abfence of her fon A madness, of which her life's in danger :-Heavens, When fearful wars point at me; her fon gone, Pif. Sir, my life is yours, Nor Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal fervant. 1 Lord. Good my liege, The day that she was miffing, he was here: For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, Cym. The time's troublesome; [TO PISANIO. We'll flip you for a season; but our jealousy Does yet depend. I Lord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Of Roman gentlemen, by the fenate fent. Cym. Now for the counsel of my fon, and queen!— I am amaz'd with matter. I Lord. 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. We fear not Cym. Pif. I heard no letter from my master, since Perplex'd in all. The heavens ftill must work : [Exeunt. Wherein Wherein I am falfe, I am honeft; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in fome boats, that are not steer'd. [Exit. Arv. What pleasure, fir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? Gui. Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans Mult or for Britons flay us; or receive us During their use, and slay us after. Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there fecure us. Where we have liv'd: and so extort from us That which we've done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture. |