Cym.
Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?

Luc.
When Julius Cæsar was in Britain,
Cassibelan, thine uncle, did for him,
And his succession, grant to Rome a tribute,
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee, lately,
Is left untender'd.

Queen.
And to kill the marvel,
Shall be so ever.

Clot.
There be many Cæsars,
Ere such another Julius: Britain's a world,
By itself, and we will nothing pay,
For wearing our own noses.† ^note

Tribute! Why should we pay tribute? If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute.

Cym.
You must know,
'Till the injurious Romans did extort
This tribute, we were free. Say then to Cæsar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Cæsar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise,
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry.

Luc.
I am sorry,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Cæsar,
Cymbeline's enemy. War and confusion,
In Cæsar's name, pronounce I 'gainst thee: look

For fury, not to be resisted. Thus defy'd,
I thank thee for myself.

Cym.
Thou art welcome, Caius.

Clot.

His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us, a day or two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards, in other terms, you shall find us in our saltwater girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you. And there's an end.

Luc.

So, sir.

Cym.
I know your master's pleasure, and he mine.
All the remain is welcome. [Exeunt.

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