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fame and honour； which dies i' th'search； And hath as oft a sland'rous
epitaph As record of fair act； nay； many times； Doth ill deserve by doing
well； what's worse… Must curtsy at the censure。 O； boys； this story The
world may read in me； my body's mark'd With Roman swords； and my
report was once First with the best of note。 Cymbeline lov'd me； And
when a soldier was the theme； my name Was not far off。 Then was I as a
tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit； but in one night A storm； or
robbery； call it what you will； Shook down my mellow hangings； nay； my
leaves； And left me bare to weather。 GUIDERIUS。 Uncertain favour！
BELARIUS。 My fault being nothing… as I have told you oft… But that two
villains； whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour； swore to
Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans。 So Follow'd my
banishment； and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have
been my world； Where I have liv'd at honest freedom； paid More pious
debts to heaven than in all The fore…end of my time。 But up to th'
mountains！ This is not hunters' language。 He that strikes The venison first
shall be the lord o' th' feast； To him the other two shall minister； And we
will fear no poison； which attends In place of greater state。 I'll meet you in
the valleys。 Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS How hard it is to hide
the sparks of nature！ These boys know little they are sons to th' King； Nor
Cymbeline dreams that they are alive。 They think they are mine； and
though train'd up thus meanly I' th' cave wherein they bow； their thoughts
do hit The roofs of palaces； and nature prompts them In simple and low
things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others。 This Polydore； The
heir of Cymbeline and Britain； who The King his father call'd Guiderius…
Jove！ When on my three…foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have
done； his spirits fly out Into my story； say 'Thus mine enemy fell； And thus
I set my foot on's neck'； even then The princely blood flows in his cheek；
he sweats； Strains his young nerves； and puts himself in posture That acts
my words。 The younger brother； Cadwal； Once Arviragus； in as like a
figure Strikes life into my speech； and shows much more His own
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conceiving。 Hark； the game is rous'd！ O Cymbeline； heaven and my
conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me！ Whereon； At three and
two years old； I stole these babes； Thinking to bar thee of succession as
Thou refts me of my lands。 Euriphile； Thou wast their nurse； they took
thee for their mother； And every day do honour to her grave。 Myself；
Belarius； that am Morgan call'd； They take for natural father。 The game is
up。 Exit
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CYMBELINE
SCENE IV。 Wales； near Milford Haven
Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN
IMOGEN。 Thou told'st me； when we came from horse； the place Was
near at hand。 Ne'er long'd my mother so To see me first as I have now。
Pisanio！ Man！ Where is Posthumus？ What is in thy mind That makes thee
stare thus？ Wherefore breaks that sigh From th' inward of thee？ One but
painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self…
explication。 Put thyself Into a haviour of less fear； ere wildness Vanquish
my staider senses。 What's the matter？ Why tender'st thou that paper to me
with A look untender！ If't be summer news； Smile to't before； if winterly；
thou need'st But keep that count'nance still。 My husband's hand？ That
drug…damn'd Italy hath out…craftied him； And he's at some hard point。
Speak； man； thy tongue May take off some extremity； which to read
Would be even mortal to me。 PISANIO。 Please you read； And you shall
find me； wretched man； a thing The most disdain'd of fortune。 IMOGEN。
＇Reads＇ 'Thy mistress； Pisanio； hath play'd the strumpet in my bed； the
testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me。 I speak not out of weak surmises；
but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge。
That part thou； Pisanio； must act for me； if thy faith be not tainted with the
breach of hers。 Let thine own hands take away her life； I shall give thee
opportunity at Milford Haven； she hath my letter for the purpose； where； if
thou fear to strike； and to make me certain it is done； thou art the pander to
her dishonour； and equally to me disloyal。' PISANIO。 What shall I need to
draw my sword？ The paper Hath cut her throat already。 No； 'tis slander；
Whose edge is sharper than the sword； whose tongue Outvenoms all the
worms of Nile； whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
All corners of the world。 Kings； queens； and states； Maids； matrons； nay；
the secrets of the grave； This viperous slander enters。 What cheer； madam？
IMOGEN。 False to his bed？ What is it to be false？ To lie in watch there；
and to think on him？ To weep twixt clock and clock？ If sleep charge
nature； To break it with a fearful dream of him； And cry myself awake？
That's false to's bed； Is it？ PISANIO。 Alas； good lady！ IMOGEN。 I false！
Thy conscience witness！ Iachimo； Thou didst accuse him of incontinency；
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Thou then look'dst like a villain； now； methinks； Thy favour's good
enough。 Some jay of Italy； Whose mother was her painting； hath betray'd
him。 Poor I am stale； a garment out of fashion； And for I am richer than to
hang by th' walls I must be ripp'd。 To pieces with me！ O； Men's vows are
women's traitors！ All good seeming； By thy revolt； O husband； shall be
thought Put on for villainy； not born where't grows； But worn a bait for
ladies。 PISANIO。 Good madam； hear me。 IMOGEN。 True honest men
being heard； like false Aeneas； Were； in his time； thought false； and
Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear； took pity From most true
wretchedness。 So thou； Posthumus； Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men：
Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur'd From thy great fail。 Come；
fellow； be thou honest； Do thou thy master's bidding； when thou seest him；
A little witness my obedience。 Look！