The Bodleian First Folio

The Tragedy of Cymbeline. Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer ? Then Ile enter.

[2040]

Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't. Such a Foe, good Heauens. Exit.

Scena Septima. [Act 3, Scene 6 cont.] Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus. Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodman, and Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I

[2045]

Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match: The sweat of industry would dry, and dye But for the end it workes too. Come, our stomackes Will make what's homely, sauoury: Wearinesse Can snore vpon the Flint, when restie Sloth

[2050]

Findes the Downe‑pillow hard. Now peace be heere, Poore house, that keep'st thy selfe. Gui. I am throughly weary. Arui. I am weake with toyle, yet strong in appetite. Gui. There is cold meat i'th'Caue, we'l brouz on that

[2055]

Whil'st what we haue kill'd, be Cook'd. Bel. Stay, come not in: But that it eates our victualles, I should thinke Heere were a Faiery. Gui. What's the matter, Sir? Bel.

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By Iupiter an Angell: or if not An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse No elder then a Boy. Enter Imogen. Imo. Good masters harme me not: Before I enter'd heere, I call'd, and thought

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To haue begg'd, or bought, what I haue took: good troth I haue stolne nought, nor would not, though I had found Gold strew'd i'th'Floore. Heere's money for my Meate, I would haue left it on the Boord, so soone As I had made my Meale; and parted

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With Pray'rs for the Prouider. Gui. Money? Youth. Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt, As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship durty Gods. Imo.

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I see you're angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Haue dyed, had I not made it. Bel. Whether bound? Imo. To Milford‑Hauen. Bel.

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What's your name? Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsman, who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am falne in this offence. Bel.

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Prythee (faire youth) Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes By this rude place we liue in. Well encounter'd, 'Tis almost night, you shall haue better cheere Ere you depart; and thankes to stay, and eate it:

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Boyes, bid him welcome. Gui. Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty: I bid for you, as I do buy. Arui. Ile make't my Comfort

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He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother: And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him

(After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome: Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst Friends. Imo. 'Mongst Friends ?

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If Brothers: would it had bin so, that they Had bin my Fathers Sonnes, then had my prize Bin lesse, and so more equall ballasting To thee Posthumus. Bel. He wrings at some distresse. Gui.

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Would I could free't. Arui. Or I, what ere it be, What paine it cost, what danger: Gods! Bel. Hearke Boyes. Imo. Great men

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That had a Court no bigger then this Caue, That did attend themselues, and had the virtue Which their owne Conscience seal'd them: laying by That nothing‑guift of differing Multitudes Could not out‑peere these twaine. Pardon me Gods,

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I'ld change my sexe to be Companion with them, Since Leonatus false. Bel. It shall be so: Boyes wee'l go dresse our Hunt. Faire youth come in; Discourse is heauy, fasting: when we haue supp'd

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Wee'l mannerly demand thee of thy Story, So farre as thou wilt speake it. Gui. Pray draw neere. Arui. The Night to'th'Owle, And Morne to th'Larke lesse welcome. Imo.

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Thankes Sir. Arui. I pray draw neere. Exeunt.

Scena Octaua. [Act 3, Scene 7] Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes. 1. Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ; That since the common men are now in Action 'Gainst the Pannonians, and Dalmatians,

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And that the Legions now in Gallia, are Full weake to vndertake our Warres against The falne‑off Britaines, that we do incite The Gentry to this businesse. He creates Lucius Pro‑Consull: and to you the Tribunes

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For this immediate Leuy, he commands His absolute Commission. Long liue Cæsar. Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces? 2. Sen. I. Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? 1. Sen.

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With those Legions Which I haue spoke of, whereunto your leuie Must be suppliant: the words of your Commission Will tye you to the numbers, and the time Of their dispatch. Tri.

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We will discharge our duty. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. [Act 4, Scene 1] Enter Clotten alone. Clot

I am neere to'th'place where they should meet,

if Pisanio haue mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments

serue me? Why should his Mistris who was made by him that