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

Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd 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 stirr'd

up the cónfiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits, That promise noble service: 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.

Makes our hopes fair.

numbers

This forwardness

Command, our present

Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now,

sir,

What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose?

Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision:

(I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :→→→ I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd,

From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, (Unless my sins abuse my divination,)

Success to the Roman host.

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.

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,

Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy in

terest

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,

That here by mountaineers lies slain :

Alas!

There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,

Try many, all good, serve truly, never

Find such another master.

Luc.

'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than
Thy master in bleeding: Say, thy name.

Imo.

Fidele. 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 master'd; but, be sure, No less belov'd. 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

As these poor pickaxes' can dig: and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd

his grave,

And on it said a century of

prayers,

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

7 Her fingers.

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 partizans
A grave: Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd,

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,

Nor when she purposes return.

highness,

Hold me your loyal servant.

1 Lord.

'Beseech your

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.

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

The time's troublesome

[TO PISANIO.

Does yet depend.
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!

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: Let's withdraw:
And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not
What can from Italy annoy us; but

We grieve at chances here.. Away.

[Exeunt. Pis. I heard no letter 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 What is betid to Cloten; but remain

* Confounded by a variety of business. 9 Encounter

Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work: Wherein I am false, I am honest; 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 some boats, that are not steer'd. [Exit.

SCENE IV.

Before the Cave.

Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.

Gui. The noise is round about us.

Bel.

Let us from it.

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it

From action and adventure?

Gui.

Nay, what hope

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us; or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts 3

During their use, and slay us after.

Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going: newness Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render

Where we have liv'd; and so extort from us

That which we've done, whose answer would be death