Imo.
I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me.—Milford,

When from the mountain top Pisanio shew'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think,
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way: Will poor folk lye,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fullness
^{6 note}Is sorer, than to lye for need; and falshood
Is worse in kings, than beggars.—My dear lord!
Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
At point to sink for food.—But what is this?
Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.—Ho! who's here?
^{7 note}

Take, or lend.—Ho!—No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens! [She goes into the cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel.
You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman, and
Are master of the feast: Cadwal, and I,
Will play the cook, and servant; 'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry, and die,
But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs
Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.—Now, peace be here,
Poor house, that keep'st thyself!

Guid.
I am throughly weary.

Arv.
I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.

Guid.
There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll brouze on that,

Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd.

Bel.
Stay; come not in:— [Looking in.
But that it eats our victuals, I should think
Here were a fairy.

Guid.
What's the matter, sir?

Bel.
By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon!—Behold divineness
No elder than a boy! Enter Imogen.

Imo.
Good masters, harm me not:
Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good troth,
I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my meat:
I would have left it on the board, so soon
As I had made my meal; and parted
With prayers for the provider.

Guid.
Money, youth?

Arv.
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.

Imo.
I see, you are angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Have dy'd, had I not made it.

Bel.
Whither bound?

Imo.
To Milford-Haven.

Bel.
What's your name?

Imo.
Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford;
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am fallen in this offence.

Bel.
Pr'ythee, fair youth,
Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds

By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd!
'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer
Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it.—
Boys, bid him welcome.

Guid.
Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your groom.—In honesty
^{3 note}

Arv
I'll make't my comfort,
He is a man; I'll love him as my brother:—
And such a welcome as I'd give to him,
After long absence, such is yours:—Most welcome!
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends.

Imo.
'Mong'st friends!
If brothers?—'Would it had been so, that they [Aside.
Had been my father's sons! ^{4 note}
then had my prize [Aside.
Been less; and so more equal ballasting [Aside.
To thee, Posthumus. [Aside.

Bel.
He wrings at some distress.

Guid.
'Would, I could free't!

Arv.
Or I; whate'er it be,
What pain it cost, what danger! Gods!

Bel.
Hark, boys. [Whispering.

Imo.
Great men,
That had a court no bigger than this cave,
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by
^{1 note}

Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.—Fair youth, come in:
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd,
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story,
So far as thou wilt speak it.

Guid.
Pray, draw near.

Arv.
The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome.

Imo.
Thanks, sir.

Arv.
I pray, draw near. [Exeunt.

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