The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: bbb2r - Tragedies, p. 391

Left Column


The Tragedie of Cymbeline. A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens, How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
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Vpon a despera e bed, and in a time When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone, So needfull for this present? It strikes me, past The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow, Who needs must know of her departure, and
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Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l enforce it from thee By a sharpe Torture.
Pis. Sir, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris, I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,
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Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes, Hold me your loyall Seruant.
Lord. Good my Liege, The day that she was missing, he was heere; I dare be bound hee's true, and shall performe
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All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will no doubt be found.
Cym. The time is troublesome: Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie
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Do's yet depend.
Lord. So please your Maiesty, The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne, Are landed on your Coast, with a supply Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent. Cym.
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Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen, I am amaz'd with matter.
Lord. Good my Liege, Your preparation can affront no lesse Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're (ready:
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The want is, but to put those Powres in motion, That long to moue.
Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not What can from Italy annoy vs, but
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We greeue at chances heere. Away.
Exeunt Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Master, since I wrote him Imogen was slaine. 'Tis strange: Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I
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What is betide to Cloten, but remaine Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke: Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true. These present warres shall finde I loue my Country, Euen to the note o'th'King, or Ile fall in them:
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All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd, Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.
Exit.
Scena Quarta. [Act 4, Scene 4] Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus. Gui. The noyse is round about vs. Bel. Let vs from it. Arui. What pleasure Sir, we finde in life, to locke it
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From Action, and Aduenture.
Gui. Nay, what hope Haue we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines Must, or for Britaines slay vs or receiue vs For barbarous and vnnaturall Reuolts
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During their vse, and slay vs after.

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Right Column


Bel. Sonnes, Wee'l higher to the Mountaines, there secure v.. To the Kings party there's no going: newnesse Of Clotens death (we being not knowne, nor muster'd
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Among the Bands) may driue vs to a render Where we haue liu'd; and so extort from's that Which we haue done, whose answer would be death Drawne on with Torture.
Gui. This is (Sir) a doubt
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In such a time, nothing becomming you, Nor satisfying vs.
Arui. It is not likely, That when they heare their Roman horses neigh, Behold their quarter'd Fires; haue both their eyes
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And eares so cloyd importantly as now, That they will waste their time vpon our note, To know from whence we are.
Bel. Oh, I am knowne Of many in the Army: Many yeeres
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(Though Cloten then but young) you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And besides, the King Hath not deseru'd my Seruice, nor your Loues, Who finde in my Exile, the want of Breeding; The certainty of this heard life, aye hopelesse
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To haue the courtesie your Cradle promis'd, But to be still hot Summers Tanlings, and The shrinking Slaues of Winter.
Gui. Then be so, Better to cease to be. Pray Sir, to'th'Army:
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I, and my Brother are not knowne; your selfe So out of thought, and thereto so ore‑growne, Cannot be question'd.
Arui. By this Sunne that shines Ile thither: What thing is't, that I neuer
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Did see man dye, scarse euer look'd on blood, But that of Coward Hares, hot Goats, and Venison? Neuer bestrid a Horse saue one, that had A Rider like my selfe, who ne're wore Rowell, Nor Iron on his heele ? I am asham'd
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To looke vpon the holy Sunne, to haue The benefit of his blest Beames, remaining So long a poore vnknowne.
Gui. By heauens Ile go, If you will blesse me Sir, and giue me leaue,
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Ile take the better care: but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me, by The hands of Romaines.
Arui. So say I, Amen. Bel. No reason I (since of your liues you set An ink mark follows the end of this line.
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So slight a valewation) should reserue My crack'd one to more care. Haue with you Boyes: If in your Country warres you chance to dye, That is my Bed too (Lads) and there Ile lye. Lead, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks scorn
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Till it flye out, and shew them Princes borne.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. [Act 5, Scene 1] Enter Posthumus alone. Post. Yea bloody cloth, Ile keep thee: for I am wisht Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murther Wiues much better then themselues bbb2 For

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