Shatt.

'Tis done.

Beaup.

I will have it no Lay.

Shatt.

By the Gods 'tis one. If I bring you not sufficient testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your Mistress, my 10000 Duckats are yours, so is your Diamond too; but if I thrive in my Enterprize, this your Jewel is mine, provided I have a Letter of Recommendation for my better Entertainment.

Ursa.

I embrace the Conditions; only thus far you shall answer: If you attempt her, and give direct proof you have prevail'd, I am no further your Enemy, she is not worth a Quarrel; but if she remain chast, you not making it appear otherwise; then for the ill Opinion, and the Assault you have made to her Chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword.

Shatt.
Your Hand—my Honour on't—I'le fetch my Gold, have our two
Wagers recorded, and then away for Britain.
And if I lose, I must prove dumb or blind;

Ursa.
If win, there is no Hell like Womankind. [Exeunt. The End of the First Act. ACT II. Scene 1 Enter behind Cymbeline, Queen, a Purse, Pisanio, Doctor and Guards, a Viol, Mrs. Holten, Sue.

Cym.
Not seen, nor to be spoke with?

Queen.
She's too haughty,
And since the exile of her abject Minion,
Proves a stranger both to Manners and Obedience.

Cym.
She shall be forc'd to Duty.
What disobey her Father, slight her Queen?
Now by the awful Powers that sway the Heavens,
Paternal Love and Mildness I disclaim,
And as a Corrasive to my sick heart,
Hold her for ever.

Pisan.
Please your Majesty.

Cym.
Pisanio, do not speak.
I have with watchful eye observ'd thy actions,
Oft prob'd thy heart, and found it still corrupted,
Still link'd and fetter'd to that banish'd Fellow,
Maugre our strict Commands, and deep Resentments.
Why dost thou shame thy Age, and smile upon us?
Bend low thy knees as loyal, that art known
A Rebel to our Peace—Come, this is not well.

Pisan.
Royal Sir, and my most honour'd Master,
In whose bless'd favour I was ever happy,

Whom I have lov'd from my hearts core, obey'd with joy,
As King, and Genius of the War, followed through death,
And as a God ador'd for Clemency.

Queen.
O smooth-tongu'd Vice, O Flatterer! [Aside to the King.

Pisan.
Brand not your poor old Souldier, I beseech you,
With breach of Loyalty. I rebel to your Peace?
These Cheeks that have been furrow'd in your Service;
This Body scarr'd with wounds; these low sunk Tapers
Now dully shining in their wither'd Sockets,
And spent with watching in cold Winter Camps,
Have still been careful to preserve your Peace,
Not to disturb it. How then am I a Rebel?
Plebeian Sound it freezes all my bloud,
And adds a sharper Winter to my Age.

Queen.
The silver Hairs that grace thy Reverend Head,
Should grow in Wisdoms Soyl, thou shouldst be
Loyal: But who can tell a Murderer by his Face,
Or know when Treason's candi'd o're with Vertue?
'Tis said you love Ursaces, wish him King,
In hopes to make your self and Daughter mighty:
But these are but Reports, and claim small credit.

Pisan.
Slanders, hellish Slanders.
The poys'nous Bite of some detracting Villain,
That thinks my glass of Life has run too long:
So may my better part, my immortal Soul,
That guides the Orders of this aged Body,
And dignifies it from the sordid Bruit,
Return to its first Seat, its primitive Glory,
As I have always wish'd my Soveraign's Life,
And oft with hazard of my own defended it.
'Tis true I love Ursaces.

Queen.
Ha, mind that Sir!

Cymb.
You love him then, and tho' your enervate power
Dare not oppose our rage, you wish him well.

Pisan.
As he deserves Sir, modestly I think.
His Vertues merit some small approbation;
He's honest, valiant, and what's more, judicious;
Wise to his Youth, and temperate to his Judgement.
I once remember Sir, when the great Cassibelan
Sent me against the stubborn Cambria Rebels,
Then up in Arms, headed by old Bellarius,
At Milford-haven, I took Ursaces with me,
Who tho' a beardless Boy of 16 years,
Show'd many signal proofs of manly Valour,
Flesh'd his young Arm, and dy'd his virgin Sword,
In the best bloud of your proud Enemies.
This was some proof of Vertue, and deserves
Sure some applause.

Queen.
He was rewarded for it.
His Majesty heap'd daily favours on him,
Bless'd him with smiles, and gave him the permission
Like a young Bird to wanton in his shine,
And grow even till he grew insolent,
And like a Bruit,
Sullied the Royal Spring that quench'd his thirst.

Pisan.
The Bonds of Love and Nature.

Cym.
Speak no more.
Upon thy Life no more in his defence.
Rash headlong Fool—how dar'st thou shock my will,
Or stand betwixt his sentence and my power?
Your service past pleads for you; but a second Crime
Of this curs'd nature rends thee from my Clemency. [Exit.

Queen.
My Lord, You were to blame t'enrage the King,
With lavish praise of that desertless Exile:
But be not troubled, I will appear your Friend,
And stand between his anger and your fault.
Doctor, a word; my Lord, for a time leave us.

Pisan.
Thank your Majesty.
She's kind o'th' sudden, pray Heaven it portend good:
Such Flashes from her, like Etherial fire,
Are followed with a Thunder-bolt; I must be watchful. [Exit.

Queen.
Yes, I will stand thy Friend, and such a one,
As fire to Cities, kindl'd by some Traitors;
Or the long-wing'd Hawk, to the weak prey she trusses.
Now, Doctor, have you brought the Drugs?

Doctor.
They are here, Madam.

Queen.
Well, there's your reward: Lock up your lips with the Key of
Secresie; whatever thou know'st, say nothing;
Do this; I'le load thy merit richly, move the King
To any shape for thy preferment: fare thee well;
Be faithful, then be great, thou hast my power. [Exeunt.

Doctor.
That is, be a Rogue, and thrive; no Idol Greatness,
Thou guilded Pill, swallow'd by many thousands,
Ne're shalt thou infect my honesty.—She thinks she has
Strange lingring poyson; but I well knew her spirit,
And wou'd not trust one of her malice with a Drug
Of that damn'd nature: Those she has
Will stupifie and dull the sence a while,
And seemingly destroy; but there is
No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking up the spirits a while,
To be more fresh reviving.—She is gull'd
With a most false Effect, and I the truer,
Hindring her black design with honesty. [Exit.

SCENE II. Enter Eugenia and Clarinna.

Eugen.
Ah cruel Father, and a bloudy Queen!
Step-mother to my hopes as well as person,
A dull Fop Suitor to a wedded Lady,
That has her Husband banish'd. Can there be
A tide of woe like this—yet life to bear it? Enter Lelia.

Lelia.
Madam, A Gentleman new arriv'd from Gallia,
Comes from my Lord with Letters.

Eugen.
What dost thou say, thy Lord? speak, speak again:
Oh thou art tedious! Said'st thou, from thy Lord?

Lelia.
Yes, Madam, and with Letters.

Eugen.
Fly to conduct him; be thy nimble speed
Swifter than Winds, or the Suns race—away. [Exit Lelia.
Now my Clarinna, now my dearest Lord,
Remembers his poor Wife: Oh my full heart! Enter Lelia with Shattillion, a Letter.

Shatt.
Madam, The brave Ursaces is in safety,
And thus salutes your Highness. [Kisses her hand.

Eugen.
Most worthy Sir, You are the happiest Messenger
That ever Lady wish'd for—my dear Clarinna:
See all the doors be lock'd, lest the Queen
Come and disturb us. Exit Clar.

Shatt.
I am proud to do you service; here are Letters.

Eugen.
The Index of my joy—I know the Hand:
For learn'd indeed were that Astronomer
That knew the Stars, as I his Character.
Wax, by your leave, (Oh be you ever bless'd!)
You pretty Bees, that make these locks of Counsel;
Bankrupts and Lovers have not equal prayers. [Reads.

Shatt.
All outwardly seems most Angelical:
If she be fursnish'd with a mind so rare,
She is alone the Phenix of the World,
And I have lost my Wager.—Boldness befriend me;
Arm me Audacity from head to foot,
Or like the Parthians I shall flying fight,
And never keep my ground.

Eug. (Reads aloud.)
He is one of the noblest Note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely bound;

Ursaces.

Shatt.
Your Highness too much honours me:
Now to begin the Game, assist me Cunning. [Aside.
Has Nature giv'n 'em eyes,
To see yon spangl'd Sky, and the rich crop
Of Sea and Land? Can they distinguish 'twixt
The Planetary Orbs, and th'numerous Pebbles
Upon the hungry Beach? and can they not,
Guided by humane Reason, make distinction
'Twixt fair and foul?

Eugen.
What makes your admiration?

Shatt.
Oh cursed lust!
Thou horrid, old, blind Devil of the flesh,
Why do men suffer thee to dam their Reason?

Eugen.
This is strange.—What's the matter, Sir? Continues
My Lord in health? Indeed you make me fear.

Shatt.
He's well, Madam.

Eugen.
Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is.

Shatt.
Exceeding pleasant, not a Stranger there:
So gay and frollicksom.—He is nick-nam'd,
The Britain Reveller.

Eugen.
When he was here, he did incline to sadness,
And oftentimes not knowing why.

Shatt.
It seems then our sharp Air has cur'd him.
For my part I never saw him sad:
There's an Italian, his associate one,
An eminent Signieur, that has lately wedded
A plump young Bona Roba, and when he speaks
Of Constancy in Love, the roving Britain,
(Your Lord I mean) laughs from free Lungs, cryes, Oh
Can my Sides hold, to think that man, who knows
What Woman is, how loose and how imperfect,
Shou'd throw away a thought on such a trifle!

Eug.
Will my Lord say so? Pray speak.

Shatt.
Oh often, Madam!
And with his eyes flowing in tears of laughter.
It is a kind of sport, faith, to be by,
And hear him mock the Italian.
But Heaven knows, some men are much to blame.

Eug.
Not he, I hope.

Shatt.
Not he?

Eug.
Nay, there is more in this, that cold Assertion,
Attended with a careless carriage, shows
You speak not what you think; my Lord, I fear,
Bless'd with the Gallian Beauties, forgets Britain.

Shatt.
Oh gracious Heaven! why dost thou show'r down blessings
Upon unthankful man, that hourly slights 'em,
And like the lavish hand of hood-wink'd chance,
Throw all to th'fool, and let the learn'd, wise and vertuous,
Pine out a miserable life in poverty?

Eug.
This still is from the matter; I beseech you, Sir,
What is't creates your wonder?

Shatt.
Something that moves my pity too.

Eug.
Who do you pity, Sir?

Shatt.
Two Creatures heartily.

Eug.
Pray Heaven it reach not hither: Am I one, Sir?

Shatt.
The more my Plague to know it you are one.

Eug.
How can I merit pity, my Lord being well,
As by this Letter I have proof he is?
The meaning of all this.

Shatt.
The meaning's fatal: Gods, Had I this Cheek
To bathe my Lips upon; this Hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch wou'd force the feeler's Soul
To th'Oath of Constancy; this Object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of the Eye,
Fixing it only here: Shou'd I, damn'd then,
Oh double damn'd, if ever so Apostate
Mingle with Lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the Capital.

Eug.
Hah!

Shatt.
Clasp Bodies plagued with all the pains
That Infamy can lend Nature: Swear, an Eye
Base, dead and glimmering as the smoaky Taper,
More bright than yours that lights that World of Beauty.
Shou'd I swear this, 'twere fit all Plagues of Hell
Shou'd bribe my Perjury.

Eug.
Why has my Lord, has my Ursaces sworn this?

Shatt.
I wou'd he had not.
Had I not heard it, he has so fair an outside,
Belief cou'd not have enter'd me.

Eug.
Oh misery!

Shatt.
Unhappy I that tell you this sad Story:
But Heaven knows my just and good design;
I cou'd not see you wrong'd, and keep you ignorant.

Eug.
Then is there nothing in Mankind but Vice?
No Faith, no Honour. Ye swift-footed hour,
Ye silent Witnesses of my true passion,
Call back his Oaths: How often has he sworn
To be for ever constant?

Shatt.
Oh he will swear extreamly!
He takes a kind of pleasure to be perjur'd.

Eug.
And will he kiss those Creatures?

Shatt.
Kiss 'um, Madam?
Alas, wou'd that were all! there's no great fault in kissing.

Eug.
Let me hear no more; be dumb to th'rest for ever.

Shatt.
I know he hates ye; he has almost own'd as much:
When fir'd with Wine and Lust, he told your fondness
In sport to his new Mistress.

Eug.
Oh hellish Act! Oh curs'd Ingratitude!

Shatt.
I swear, your sad Misfortunes strike a heart
That here vows to your service: Be reveng'd, Madam,
The way is easie.

Eug.
Reveng'd? Alas how shou'd I!
Unless upon my self, by sighs and weepings,
For loving that false man.

Shatt.
Another way
Courts your acceptance.

Eug.
How Sir?

Shatt.
'Tis the secret'st and the sweetest way:
I dedicate my self thus to your pleasure;
Thus pay my adoration to your Beauty:
I am a man born nobler than Ursaces,
As young, as vigorous, and far more constant,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close and sure.

Eug.
Oh Heaven! Is't possible? And will you love me too?

Shatt.
Love thee?—I, better than my Soul:
Were I assur'd of celestial Joys,
Long as its Immortality love thee.
The tender Mother loves not her first-born,
The Poet Fame, or the sick Youth his health,
With half that zeal.—Kind Fate, she comes, she yields:
Oh glorious Conquest!—Let me seal my Passion
Upon thy snowy hands transported, then rove higher,
And ransack this white Magazine of Beauty.
Here I shall find.

Eug.
That which thou meritest, Death. [Offers a Dagger at him.
Detested Wretch, practis'd in Villany,
How I condemn my credulous Ears that have
So long been Traitors? Wert thou honourable,
Thou wou'dst have told me this for Vertues sake,
And not for such base Ends.
Who's there, Clarina?
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of this presumption, and by punishment,
Equal to the Crime, reward thy brutal folly.

Shatt.
'D's heart, this won't do, I must shift quickly, or I'me ruin'd.
Give me your gracious pardon:
What I have spoke was by your Lord's Command,
To try your Constancy, and find if distance
Cou'd play the Traitor with your faith and memory,
Which now I know unshook'd, and shall acquaint him.

Eug.
Can this be true? Cou'd my Lord doubt me then?

Shatt.
Alas you know, Madam, fierce Loves have still some jealousie!
He is a man of that clear equal temper,
That he inchants Societies unto him;
He sits amongst 'um like a descended God;
He has a kind of Grandeur sets him off,
More than a Mortal seeming. Be not angry then,
Oh chastest of thy kind! that I have adventur'd,
To try your Vertue by a false Report,
Being oblig'd by Oath, and my design so honest.

Eug.
I'me satisfied; you appear clear again:
Pray use my Power i'th' Court.

Shatt.
My humble thanks; I had almost forgot
To entreat your Highness in a small Request,
And yet of moment too; for it concerns
Your Lord, my self, and other noble Friends,
That share in the design.

Eug.
Pray what is't?

Shatt.
A dozen of us Gentlemen, and your Lord,
The best feather of our Wing, have mingled Sums,
To buy a Present for the Roman Emperor,
Which I, the Factor for the rest, have done in Britain here:
'Tis Plate of rare device, and Jewels
Of rich and exquisite form; their value's great,
And I am something curious, being a Stranger,
To have them in safe custody: May it please ye
To take 'um in protection?

Eug.
Willingly.
Since 'tis my Lord's Concern, I'le have 'um kept
Here in my Apartment.

Shatt.
They are in a Chest,
Attended by my Men; I will presume
To send them to ye, only for this night,
I must aboard to morrow.

Eug.
So soon?

Shatt.
Indeed I must.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your Lord by writing, do it to night,
For I've outstay'd the time that is material
To th' tender of our Present.

Eug.
I'le instantly about it.

Send your Chest to me, I'le take care of it,
And see it safe return'd.

Shatt.
Your Highness faithful Servant. [Exeunt. Enter Queen, Pisanio, and Attendants. A Viol.

Queen.
'Twas but a gust of Passion in the King,
That like a ruffling Storm shakes the tall Grove,
Yet in a moment's gone, and all is calm.

Pisan.
I am much a debtor to your Majesty.

Queen.
Besides you shou'd consider he is old,
Peevish with sickness, scarce had liv'd till now,
But for these Helps of Nature, this rich Cordial,
Which I have made through providence to help him:
This Glass is worth a Kingdom to the Sick;
I give it thee Pisanio, I give it as an Earnest
Of future favour; when thou art ill, drink this,
'Twill conquer the Disease, nay tho' given o're
By all Physicians, 'twill renew thy health.

Pisan.
Your Majesty's too gracious; but like the Sun,
Display your beams, and shed your kindly blessings
Upon a wither'd stump that cannot grow,
Tho' you can influence; this rich Cordial,
Tho' of this heavenly nature, can but add
A minute more to th' snuff of my life's Taper,
That yet must out at last.

Queen.
We all must die, my Lord:
But 'tis no harm sure to prolong a life,
When living we do well; therefore preserve it,
'Tis worth your care.—The King's in bed; good night,
My Lord.

Pisan.
Blessings still crown your Majesty.

Queen.
On him or Eugenia; if it work, I'me happy. [Exit.

Pisan.
There is a mystery in her tide of Favours,
Heaven will not let me know: She always hated me,
'Cause I mislik'd her Son, yet now show'rs down
All Kindnesses, commends me to the King, takes care
Of my health, and gives me here a Cordial to preserve it.
But why may not all this be as a hook and bait,
To get me from my Element of Honesty?
Hah, it is, it must, I have it! Hah! beware then,
And tho' in Exile, show thou lov'st Ursaces,
That good, that brave young man; I wish Eugenia
Deserve him; I have some fears I saw a Stranger,
A tall, hot-blouded, fluttering Fellow,
An hour ago, strutting from her Apartment,
And as he went, the perfum'd Pulvillio left a scent behind him,

Enough to choak a Civet-Cat: I always thought her innocent,
Pray Heaven she prove so; for if the Woman's
Fickle Devil once seize her,
Like a huge Stone she rowls the steepy Hill,
Not to be stopp'd by Conscience, Force, or Skill. [Exit. SCENE IV. Discovers Eugenia in Bed; a Lady waiting; a Chest standing by.

Eugen.
Who's there—Clarina?

Clarin.
Yes, Madam.

Eugen.
What hour is't my Dear?

Clarin.
Past Twelve above a quarter.

Eugen.
I have read three hours then.
My Eyes are weak;
Pray then go to Bed:
Indeed I trouble you; but leave the Candle burning,
And if thou think'st on't, bid my Woman call me
At five a Clock: Good night, Sleep seizes me; [Sleeps.
To thy protection I commend me Heaven. [Exit Clar. Enter Shattillion from the Chest; a Table-book.

Shatt.
All's still as Death, and hush'd as Midnight silence:
Now the Crickets sing, and mortal wearied Sense
Repairs it self by rest. Lewd Tarquin thus
Did softly tread and tremble, ere he wak'ned
The Chastity he wounded. Oh Soul of Beauty!
Sure none but I cou'd see thee thus, and leave thee
Thus in this lovely posture. But no more;
I've other business. Chill all my Bloud,
Ye Powers, and make me cold to her Allurements:
This is no loving minute; Come, to my design:
To note the Chamber: Here I'le write all down;
Such and such Pictures; there the Window; such
The adornment of her Bed; the Arras Figures:
Why such, and such, and the Contents o'th' Story.
Ay but some natural Notes about her Body,
Above ten thousand meaner Witnesses,
Wou'd testifie to enrich my Inventory. She stirs, and he starts back.
What's there, a Bracelet on her Arm? 'Tis so.
Now sleep thou Ape of Death, lye dull upon her;

And be her Sense but as a Monument,
Thus in a Chappel lying. Fortune befriend me;
'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the Conscience does within,
To th'torture of her Lord: On her left Breast,
A Mole Cinque, spotted like the Crimson drops
In the bottom of a Cowslip: Here's a Voucher
Stronger than ever Law cou'd make; this Secret
Will force him think I've pick'd the Lock, and stoll'n
The Treasure of her Honour. No, now I have enough:
To th'Chest agen.
Swift, swift ye Dragons of the Night; lov'd Phospher,
Return the welcome day, I lodge in fear,
Tho' there's a heavenly Angel, Hell is here. [Gets into the Chest. Enter Cloten, Gentlemen, Silvio, Musicians and Dancers.

Clot.
I Gad this damn'd Armour is plaguy troublesom:
Does it become Florio? Hah! Do I look like one
That cou'd slay my ten thousand in a morning, and
Never sweat for't? Have I the sow'r Look of a Heroe?

Silvio.
Your Look will cause more wonder than fear, my
Lord; you are too young to be very terrible.

Clot.
Nay I know I shou'd look more like a Warrier,
If I were not so handsom; Pox on't, I have
Look'd so clear ever since I took Physick last,
That Gad I'me afraid people begin to think I paint.

Silvio.
They often look smiling on you, I confess.

Clot.
Come, begin then, first play and then sing; you shall
Charm her with your Fingers, and you with your Tongue,
Whilst I, God Mars, brandish my Weapon; and if
Tonguing, fingering and fighting, don't please her,
The Devil's in her. Flutes and a Song here; a Lady looks out.

Lelia.
My Lady is rising Sir, she hears your Musick.

Clot.
Ud so, she peeps through the Window yonder now.
The Dance, the Dance. Enter Eugenia and Clarina.
She comes; away all and leave me to her. [Exeunt.
Good morrow to the radiant Queen of Beauty;
Fierce Mars in Field with Sword and Shield yields
Thee the time o'th' day.

Eugen.
I am covetous of thanks Sir, and scarce can spare 'um.

Clot.
Gad that's a little morose tho', to a Deity of my
Valour and Quality.

Eugen.
It suits my Humour Sir: but pray why thus in Armour?
You amongst all men in my opinion,
Need not Burlesque your self.

Clot.
Burlesque? Now she mauls me with her hard words.
Madam, I love and honour you in plain terms; pray
Give your consent, and let's be married; your Heroes hate delays.

Eugen.
Married, what to such a Figure?

Clot.
Figure? Why I'me a Lord, and the Queen's my Mother,
As inconsiderable a Figure as you make me; Gads, that's
More than a banish'd Fellow of your Acquaintance can
Pretend to, since you go to that.

Eugen.
That banish'd Fellow is a God, when ballanc'd
With your weak merit; I swear his meanest
Garment that ever touch'd his Body, is more dear to me
Than the life's service of a hundred Cloten's.

Clot.
His Garment? A Plague, what his Shirt?

Eugen.
Hah! my Bracelet lost, my dear Lelia?
Run to my Woman instantly.

Clot.
His Garment did you say?

Eugen.
I am sprighted with a Fool, frighted and anger'd worse:
Bid her, Clarina, search for a Bracelet, that too
Casually hath left my Arm;
I wou'd not lose it for a King's Revenue;
I think I saw't this morning; sure I am,
Last night 'twas on my Arm, I kiss'd it;
I hope it is not gone to tell my Lord,
That I kiss ought but him. [Exit Clar.

Clot.
His Shirt, what his contaminated Shirt,
Preferr'd before my Service? I'le be reveng'd;
I'le not take this; by Jove, I'le tell your Father. [Exit Clot.

Eugen.
Daily to live thus tortur'd by this Fool,
Is double misery; therefore I'me now resolv'd
To free my self: The way is thus contriv'd;
I'le steal from Court in a disguise; Pisanio
I know will stand my Friend through his Life's hazard,
And never shrink at danger: This once done,
With joy I'le meet my dearest Lord in Exile,
Feed him with Love, and sweeten all his Cares
With soft Embraces; then each happy night,
Fancy a Palace of a poor Retreat,
And slight the inconstant Glories of the Great. [Exit.

ACT III. SCENE II. Enter Ursaces and Beaupre.

Beau.
Well, my brave Friend, what think you of your Wager?
Shattillion must by this be coming back.

Ursa.
A Coxcomb as he went. Ha, ha! Wou'd I were
As certain to win the King agen, as I am
Confirm'd—her Honour is secure.

Beau.
Hear you no News to day?

Ursa.
Not I: Have you any?

Beau.
Yes, and of moment: I was just now inform'd,
That Caius Lucius, sent by great Augustus,
Is going with an Embassy to Britain,
Commission'd to demand retarded Tribute,
And I fear,
Your King will sooner gratifie his Message,
That enrage our warlike Romans, whose
Late Conquest lives yet fresh in his memory.

Ursa.
I am not of your mind, but rather do believe,
(States-man though I am none, nor like to be)
That this will prove a War. Enter Shattillion.

Beau.
By all that's good, Shattillion.—See Sir.

Ursa.
The swiftest Racers posted you by Land,
And Winds in all the corners kiss'd your Sails.
To make your Vessel nimble.

Beau.
Welcome Sir.

Ursa.
I hope the briefness of your Answer made
The speediness of your Return.

Shatt.
Your Lady, Sir,
Is faith the fairest that I ever look'd on.

Ursa.
And therewithal the best, or else her
Beauty is but a shadow, or like a painted
Tulip, for nothing good but show.

Shatt.
Here are Letters for ye.

Ursa.
Their tenure good, I trust. [Ursa. reads.

Shatt.
'Tis very likely.—

Beau.
Is Caius Lucius, Ambassador from the
Emperor, expected yet in Britain?

Shatt.
He was talk'd of—but I had other business.
There than to mind News.

Ursa.
All is well yet.
Sparkles that Stone as it was wont Sir, or is it
Too dull for you to wear?

Shatt.
If I had lost it,
I shou'd have lost the worth of it in Gold;
But I'le make a Journey twice as far,
T'Enjoy a night of such sweet shortness,
As was mine in Britain.—Sir, the Ring
Is won.

Ursa.
The Stone's too hard to come by.

Shatt.
Not at all, your Lady being so easie.

Ursa.
Why sure you will be wiser than to make
Your loss your sport; I hope you know Sir, we
Must not continue Friends.

Shatt.
Faith Sir, we must,
If you keep Covenant, had I not brought
The knowledge of your Mistress home, I grant
We were to question farther; but I now
Profess my self the winner of her Honour,
Together with your Ring, and not the wronger
Of her or you at all, having proceeded
But by Agreement.

Ursa.
If you can make't appear
You have enjoy'd her in her Bed, my Hand and
Ring is yours; if not, my Sword must right the
Wrong done to her Chastity.

Shatt.
Chastity? ha, ha!

Ursa.
Ha, ha! Why is her sacred part become so tainted,
That 'tis but worth your Fleer?

Shatt.
I am sorry to confess it, Sir.

Ursa.
Devils and Hell—Confess it?—Come, be
Brief your Story.

Shatt.
First, her Bed-chamber:
Where I confess I slept not, for she gave me
That which was well worth watching, it was hang'd
With Tapestry of Silk and Silver; the Story
Was the Meeting of th' Egyptian Queen and
Anthony, when Cidnus swell'd above the Banks
For pride, to bear that glorious Heroe
And his Mistress, that gave the World
For Love.

Ursa.
This is nothing;
For I perhaps, or any other ask'd,
Might tell you thus much.

Shatt.
More Particulars
Shall justifie my Knowledge.

Ursa.
So they must,
Or do your Credit injury.

Shatt.
The Chimney—
Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney—
Piece Diana bathing:—Never saw I
Figures so nearly drawn to Nature;
The skilful Painter had even outdone
The Life, so excellent was his dumb Poetry.

Ursa.
And what of this?
Let it be granted what you say is true,
And praise be given to your Remembrance:
Th' Description of what is in her Chamber,
Must not save the Wager you have laid.—

Shatt.
Must it not? Then if you can be pale,
I beg your leave to air this Jewel.—See
And presto,—now 'tis up agen; it must be married
There to your Diamond; I beg your pardon, Sir, that
I play the Jugler with you.

Ursa.
Jove—Is it that I gave her? 'Tis impossible:
Pray once more let me see it.
I swear, the very same.
The Bracelet that I gave her at our parting,
And dam'd her with an Oath to keep for ever;
'Tis that, it must, nay now I know 'tis that.—

Shatt.
Yes, Sir, 'tis that, the very that, I thank her,
She took it from her Arm, methinks I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsel her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too; she gave it me,
Then smiling, sigh'd and said, she priz'd it once.

Ursa.
May be she pluck'd it off to send it me.

Shatt.
She writes so to ye, does she?

Ursa.
Death and Hell! There's no truth,
Where there is Beauty; the seeming modest face
Lyes even at the Altar and at Prayers;
Honour and Love in that false Sex are nothing;
Profit still breaks their Vows, and Lust their Constancy;
Pride dams their Beauty, Perjury their Souls.

Beau.
Have patience, Sir:
It may be probable she lost it; or
Who knows but one of her Women being corrupted,
May steal it from her.

Ursa.
Very true.
And so I hope he came by't. Render me, Sir,
Some noted Mark, some corporal Sign about her,
More evident than this, for this was stoll'n.

Shatt.
By Jupiter, I had it from her Arm.

Ursa.
Hark you, he swears, by Jupiter he swears,
Binds the salacious Villany by Oath,
And never blushes for't. Oh Hell of Impudence!

Is there a Fury hot as Womankind?
By the Fiends there is not.
Take it, for thou hast won, I swear thou hast,
And the most fulsom way; for well I know
She cou'd not lofe it; her Attendants are
All sworn and honourable, they induc'd to steal it,
And for a Stranger; no, he has enjoy'd her.

Beau.
Good Sir, be calm, you may be yet deceiv'd.

Shatt.
For further satisfying, under her left Breast,
Worthy my pressing, lyes a Mole, right proud
Of that most delicate Lodging; by my Life
I kiss'd it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed agen, though full. You may perhaps, Sir,
Remember this Stain upon her.

Ursa.
I, and it confirms
Another Stain, big as the dismal Cause,
Where Devils freeze and burn. Say on, what more?

Shatt.
Why wou'd you have more?

Ursa.
Now I think on't; no, for shame speak not the rest.

Shatt.
By yonder blessed Sun.

Ursa.
No swearing, Sir.
If you will swear you have not don't, ye lye,
And I will kill thee if thou dar'st deny.

Shatt.
I'le deny nothing.

Ursa.
Had I her here, I'de tear her into atomes;
But live she shannot, nor with whorish grace
Laugh at my Infamy.—Oh cursed Marriage!
Thou Hell to th'Mind, and Body's Purgatory.
Meet we with common Creatures, they are kind,
Love out their hour with eagerness and Art,
And if they give Diseases—'tis their Trade,
We can expect no less. But th' Marriage-state
Gives ye a guilded Pill that poysons ye,
And yet pretends to cure.—The Plague of Life,
And Curse of our Creation—was a Wife. [Exit.

Beau.
He's quite besides
The government of Patience.—You have won:
But come, let's in, and prevent the present rage
He means against himself.

Shatt.
With all my heart: I'le follow ye Sir, ha, ha, ha! [Exit Beau.
I am sensible this Lye will occasion some mischief:
But a Pox on't, I cou'd not for my life but make
The most on't, when my hand was in. Well, what
Wit has begun, Policy must preserve; and Tongue
Be but thou silent, and then let him sift out the
Matter as well as he can. [Exit.

Enter Ursaces with a Letter and Servant.

Ursa.
This Paper signs her death: I know my Friend,
My good old Friend Pisanio, will dispatch her
On sight of this—and then she is with the Furies.
Fly Sirrah with this to the Packet-Boat.

Servant.
I'me gone, my Lord.— [Exit.

Ursa.
But why shou'd Nature make us miserable?
Is there no way for Man to be, but Women
Must be half-Workers? We are all Bastards,
And that most venerable Man which I
Did call my Father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd:
Yet my Mother seem'd
The Vesta of her time, so did my Wife,
The Jewel of this Age. Oh damn'd Hypocrisie!
Me of my lawful Pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me oft forbearance, did it with
A Pudency so Rosie, that sweet object
Might well have warm'd old Saturn, that I thought her
As chast as un-Sunn'd Snow, as pure as Vertue,
And lost my self in my imagin'd joys.
That's as the hapless Merchant rash and young,
Listens to hear the charming Siren's charming Song;
His Soul is fetter'd, and he fain wou'd get
To the fair tempting Creature's rocky Seat;
And to the Charmers swiftly strives to run,
Leaps on the fatal Shore, and is undone:
So tempting Beauty did my Sense betray,
And faithless Woman stole my Soul away. [Exit. SCENE III. A Rocky Cave. Enter Belarius, Arviragus, and Palladour, in wild Habits.

Belar.
The Sun, the glorious Monarch of the day,
Guilds all the Valleys, and with chearful beams
Smiles on the Persian, who with prostrate Body

Now pays his Adoration: This instructs us
How to admire the Heavens, and bend our minds
To a Mornings holy Office. Come forth my Sons,
The blessings of my Age; warmth of my Winter;
Come forth, and with your customary Duties
Pay Reverence to Heaven and the Morn.—
Hail great Divinity.

Arvir.
Hail gracious Heaven, and our most noble Father.

Palla.
Hail Heaven, and to the Parent of our Lives.

Bellar.
Is not this Life better,
Than servilely attending for a Check,
Or be oblig'd to flatter some gross Fool,
That gives ye Food and Raiment? Is it not richer
Than thriving in contempt of Honesty,
Or proudly ruffling in unpaid for Silk;
When the poor Creditor
Oft gains the Cap of him he has made fine,
Yet keeps his Books uncross'd?

Arvir.
You told us, Sir,
That Nature stamp'd all humane-kind like us:
Can they resemble us, and are not honest?

Bellar.
The Face deceives all;—'tis the Nation's Plague,
That he that looks most honest, soonest wrongs ye.

Arvir.
I hate a Villain as I love Vertue, and cou'd wish
A season to imploy my eager Courage,
And steep my Javelin in the reeking bloud
Though of a Giant, that had wrong'd my Father.

Bellar.
'Twas kind; but thou art young, Arviragus, a twig
That shak'st with every blast; art like a Woman,
But that I think thou hast not so much falshood.

Arvir.
Why are there Women false too?

Bellar.
False as Court-Promises;
Or the young Trader's Oath; but that the fruit of Falshood
Gains more than Vertue. You may find by me
My Honesty undid me; my Body's mark'd
With Roman Weapons, and my Fame was once
First with the men of Note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a Souldier was the Theam, my Name
Was loud as any's: Then was I as a Tree
Whose Boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night,
(So ill did Fortune love me) a rude Storm
Shook down my mellow Blessings, nay my Leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Arvir.
Uncertain Favour: But cou'd you not revenge it?
Cou'd your great Soul suppress such Injuries,
Be mildly passive in a Cause so just?
Now by that Reverend Shape, had I been wrong'd so,

I wou'd have sought my Enemies through dangers,
Numerous as Stars, and though hemm'd round with Foes,
Feast my Revenge, then smiling, took my Fate.

Bellar.
Arviragus, Thou art too passionate; thy fiery temper
Will waste thee like a Feaver.

Pallad.
Be silent Brother, and hear my Father's Story.

Bellar.
My fault being nothing, as I've often told you,
But that two Villains hating me, swore to Cymbeline,
I was Confederate with the Romans, so
Follow'd my Banishment, and this 20 years
This Rock and these Demeans have been my World.

Arvir.
Death to your Honour! Did you part so tamely?
Did you not kill the Villains? Oh I tremble,
And all my Bloud's on fire, at th' apprehension
Of your disgrace? Such Injuries as these
Require Bloud, Ruine, Desolation,
Fatal Destruction, Death in thousand terrors.
Oh Heaven and Earth, not kill him!

Pallad.
They were kill'd, were they not, Sir?

Bellar.
They were, tho' not by me. But come, the day grows old,
Now up to th' Mountains, 'tis the Hunter's language,
And he that strikes the Venison first shall be the
Lord o'th' Feast: Away, I'le meet you in the Valleys.

Pallad.
Come Brother, I lodg'd a stately Stag last night,
A Pollard that has newly cast his head; let's go
And chace him, he is our Feast.

Arvir.
No, I have a nobler Game: A Forest Boar
Last night did cross my way, and staring on me,
Grinding his foaming Tushes, roar'd and fled;
My Javelin I swiftly darted at him,
Which glancing from his Shoulder cleft the ground,
And Night opposing with dark shades, I lost
What now will find and conquer. [Exeunt Bro.

Bellar.
Heaven protect ye.
How hard it is to hide the Sparks of Nature:
These Boys know little they are Sons to th' King,
Nor does their Father dream they are alive.
They think they are mine, and tho' bred up thus meanly,
They think and do like Princes.
Oh Cymbeline, Heaven and thy Conscience knows,
Thou did'st unjustly banish me, for which
At three and two years old I stole thy Children,
Thinking to take from thee a Successor,
As thou my Lands from me; 'tis a Revenge
Pleases my Age. Now to my brace of Princes,
Who swifter than two Roes leap o're the Hills,
And in their speedy Chace outstrip the Winds. [Exit.

Enter Pisanio and Eugenia in Mens Cloaths. Pisanio has a Letter in's hand.

Pisan.
How—Of Adultery, and with a Gallian?
Then all my Fears prove true, and that tall Fellow
I once saw with her, proves the Villain I doubted.
Oh perjur'd Creature!

Eugen.
This is a strange wild melancholy Place;
Good my Lord, how far is't now to Milford?
Why do you shun me so? My Legs are weary
In striving to o'retake ye: Alas I know the trouble
I bring upon you! But for pity's sake
Reflect not on it now. You went this morning
To meet the Post with Letters; my heart pants,
I hope there's no ill News.

Pisan.
Oh Woman, Woman!
Who ere cou'd learn thy deep Philosophy,
Or fathom thy unsounded Sea of Graft?
That Look of her's has power to cause sound Faith
Revolt, and make men fancy her a Saint.
This Letter proves a Devil.

Eugen.
What Letter's that? Is't from my Lord?

Pisan.
From him that was your Lord:
Read it, and when you have done, prepare to die.

Eugen.
To die? Good Gods, for what?

Pisan.
Read there, and blush instead of growing pale;
The Crime will give occasion.

Eugen. reads.
—Pisanio, My Wife has damn'd her self, and
Play'd the Strumpet in my Bed: (Oh gracious Heaven!)
The testimonies whereof lye bleeding in me, and a
Fluttering Gallian is more grateful to her than
Her unhappy Husband. I write this from
Proofs, as strange as my Griefs; therefore
Kill her, if thou lov'st me, and send a Handkerchief
Dipp'd in her bloud: That done, my Interest here shall
Secure both thy Life and Fortune. Ursaces.
I'le kiss thy Name although it brings me death,
A cruel death to th' Innocent. Oh my Fortune! [Swounds.

Pisan.
Why there now.
There is another Fetch of female Policy,
This Swouning: I have known a Woman swound
At the puking of her Monkey, or feign sorrow
To see her Husband's Nose bleed. Craft, Craft, damn'd Craft:
I'le not believe 'um. Oh she comes agen!

Eugen.
False to his Bed? What is it to be false?
To lye in watch there, and to think of him;
To weep 'twixt hour and hour: If Sleep charge Nature

To break it with a frightful Dream of him,
And cry my self awake; can this be Falshood?

Pisan.
Weak Excuses.
You ill plead Innocence, when your vertuous Lord
Defames you thus by Letter, and has proof
Of your detected Crime; for well I know,
He wou'd not write this without good assurance.

Eugen.
Yes, any thing to please his new-found Mistress,
That basely reaps the harvest of my Love.
Mens Vows are Womens Traitors; and as Synon,
That perjur'd Wretch, that cunning flattering Greek,
By weeping scandall'd many a holy Tear;
So does Ursaces by his broken Oaths,
The Faith of all Mankind.

Pisan.
And you by Levity,
The vertue of your Sex. Kneel therefore, and pray,
Or unprepar'd receive your Fate. [Draws.

Eugen.
I swear
I am not guilty, yet do not wish to live, [Kneels.
Ursaces being false. Come, strike my Lord,
Strike the innocent Mansion of my Love, my heart,
And give a hapless, much wrong'd Woman, rest,
As lasting as her woes.

Pisan.
Do you not fear?

Eugen.
My grief has made me past it.

Pisan.
Die then, lest it return; it wonnot be:
Methinks some Genius hinders my rash Arm,
And blames my cruel purpose.

Eugen.
Make not my Death your Sport,
But do a speedy justice for your Friend,
And tell my Lord, when I am laid in Earth,
He then may revel quietly.

Pisan.
I cannot do't,
And I'le attempt no farther. If she is false,
Let Heaven punish her; I'le leave her to its mercy,
And with some bloudy token greet her Lord,
As if I had perform'd the horrid Action.
Madam, I pity you, and through that passion
Resolve to save your Life: But from this moment
Expect no further service; for Heaven forbid,
The least grain of my Love shou'd fall on her,
Whose blameful Levity wrong'd my dearest Friend.
Thus then I turn away, and all alone
Within this gloomy melancholy Desart,
Leave you to Fortune: If you are innocent,
That Innocence protect you; but if guilty,
As I much doubt you are, let Thunder.
Punish the hated Falshood.—Fare ye well.

Eugen.
Stay, dear my Lord; Oh do not leave me so,
So lost, so comfortless!

Pisan.
No tears shall stop me; there's too much of Woman in 'um.

Eugen.
Alas I know not where I am! The Place
Is ruthless, wild and uninhabited;
No friendly Path leads to a neighbouring Village,
But all untrod and savage, like the Covert
Of some rude Satyr; here only Nettles grow, and Ivy
That clings to th'dismal Ewe; and in yon Rock,
The dreadful spotted Toads and poysonous Serpents
Will hourly fright me with their Croaks and Hisses.
Ah do not leave me in this horrid Place,
For I shall die with Fear!

Pisan.
I must be gone,
Tho' her words touch me strangely. [Aside.

Eugen.
I shall be starv'd too. Recall, recal Humanity,
And let that aged Breast bear tender Nature:
Let th'Oath of Knighted, charm ye not to suffer
A wretched Princess famish in a Desart.

Pisan.
The Summer-fruit that now lades every Bush,
Makes vain that Fear. To help ye a little,
Take here this Glass, I had it from the Queen,
What's in't is precious; when you're sick, a dram on't
Will drive away Distemper. Farewel; my heart
Bleeds for ye, altho' your abhorred Crimes deserve no pity. [Exit.

Eugen.
Ye mighty Powers, that sway you glorious Heaven,
Rise from your awful Thrones, look down and pity
A wretched Innocence; for well ye know,
I'me guiltless, and deserve not this Barbariety,
Tho' more than Scithians cruel. Poor Eugenia,
Where wilt thou fly for Succour? Home is fatal:
If to my Lord; why he has sent to kill me.
Too cruel Husband of a Wife so faithful.
Oh wretched state!
Oh Misery! If Vertue be thus us'd,
How are the vicious punish'd? What shall I do,
And whither shall I turn? As some poor Slave,
Accus'd of Crimes which he had never done,
Is from his angry Patron's Favour thrown.
Hated altho' he faithfully did serve,
Is cast on some wild Beach to pine and starve.
In vain bemoans himself, and makes defence,
In vain sighs, weeps, and tells his Innocence.
Sits sadly on some Rock, his Eyes do flow,
Mourns his hard Fate, but knows not where to go.
So I unskilful what strange Course to run,
Must perish here, by faithless man undone. [Exit. The End of the Third Act.

ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter Queen, Cloten, Clarina, Jachimo, Aurelia, and Attendants.

Queen.
Thou seed of Mischief, young Practitioner
In th'Art of Treachery, how didst thou dare
To conceal this devilish Secret,
No less than the disturbance of a Nation?
But in thy death I'le strait revenge th' Affront.

Clar.
Oh do not fright me with the name of Death!
But look with pity, Madam, on my tears,
And see a wretched Virgin beg for Life:
So may your Raign be prosp'rous, so your Beauty
Still fresh and heavenly, as your mercy flows
In showers of tender pity on my youth.

Cloten.
Pity? Ay, let me have her, I'le show pity on her
Youth; Gad, I'le first make my Footman ravish her,
And then have her hang'd.

Jachimo.
And why your Footman, my Lord? I hope you have
Other Friends about you that will do her that kindness.

Queen.
I have consider'd now she shall not die so well,
But banish'd, live to prolong her misery,
And none shall help her, upon pain of Death.
My Lord Jachimo, to you I give the Wretch,
Use her as she deserves: Hence hated Harpey.

Clar.
Nay kill me now, and I will think you kind;
Let me not be a prey to his wild Lust.

Queen.
Away with her, I will not hear a word.

Jachimo.
You'l like me better in the Countrey, Madam;
Come, come, there's no remedy. [Drags her out.

Clar.
No spark of Pity; help, help.

Cloten.
Stop her Mouth, away with her; I'le go and
Dispatch a small Affair, and follow thee.— [Exit.

Queen.
I've been too slow in executing vengeance,
Too dull and cold; had I been diligent,
I cou'd have stopp'd her posting toward Gallia,
And sent her Post to the Furies. Who's that comes yonder?

Aurel.
The King, Madam, and by his actions seems
In a high rage.—

Queen.
I'le whet it to a madness.

Enter King, Lords and Guards.

King.
Go search the Countrey round, and bring her back:
Send out more Horses; let every Town and Village
Be narrowly survey'd, each House, each Cottage,
Caves, Grotto's, nay the very clefts of Rocks.
Seek and return me this rebellious Fugitive,
Or lose your Monarch ever.

Queen.
Send to Milford,
If you'l succeed: We hear now she's gone to ship.
For Gallia, to meet her Love in Exile. Enter a Captain.

Capt.
I come to inform your Majesty, that the
Beacons near to Milford-Haven are fired;
And the Post just come declares,
The Roman Army's landed there,
Led on by Gaius Lucius.

King.
Summon all the Captains,
And give strict Order that the Troops be ready
With the next Sun. I'le to the Field in person,
And with my presence animate the Souldiers.
Away, and sound to War; draw up your Infantry:
We'le timely march, and scourge this haughty Roman: Oh
Eugenia! wer't thou here, I'de fear no Foe. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The Cave. Enter Eugenia.

Eugen.
Good Heaven!
No Succour yet: I'me tired with wandring,
And faint with hunger. Ah some kind Silvian God,
That rul'st these Groves, rise from thy mossie Couch,
And with thy hoord of Summer wholesom Fruits,
Preserve an innocent Lady from sharp Famine!
I saw an Apple-tree in yonder Thicket,

On which eager to feed, as I drew near it,
A large grown Serpent from the hollow root,
Oppos'd my raging hunger, and instead of pitying
My pale and pining Looks, with flaming Eyes,
And dreadful Hisses, like the Hesperian Dragon,
Frighted me from the place; the very Trees, I think,
Take part with cruel man. Ha! what gloomy Place is this?
Here is a Path to't; sure 'tis some savage Hold.
Hoa, who's there?
If any thing that's civil, speak and help
A wretched Creature; but if savage,
Be speedy in my death. No Answer; then I'le enter.
Now Mercy, Heaven. [Exit. Enter Bellarius and Palladour.

Bellar.
I've haunch'd the Stag, and hung his Quarters up
The backside of the Cave, and when your Brother comes,
We'le make our Feast. [Horn within.

Palla.
Hark, I think I hear his Horn; let's go and
Meet him, he has ventur'd hard to day, it may
Be the wild Boar has hurt him too.

Bellar.
Heaven forbid, my Boy.— [Exeunt. Re-enter Eugenia with Meat, eating and lifting up her hands.

Eugen.
Bless'd be this poor Retreat; for ever bless'd
The Steward of this Feast, that brings me comfort,
And saves me from a miserable Fate. Oh Heaven!
How sweet is this course Fare, this little morsel,
Which in prosperity my lavish hand
Wou'd have profusely thrown away to Dogs?
How dearly does it relish now? How covetous am I
Of each least Bit? Pardon great Providence:
We are ignorant of our selves, till Miseries
Purge our corrupted Natures, and Want, rare Artists,
Moulds us to sence of our Mortality. [Eats and drinks. Enter Bellarius, Palladour, and Arviragus, with a Boar's Head.

Bellar.
Welcome Arviragus; welcome my young Heroe,
Let me embrace thee.

Pallad.
Welcome dear Brother, I congratulate your Conquest,
I see you shun no danger.

Arvir.
Danger? 'tis my Pleasure:
I wou'd not give a minute for a Victory,
Unless by hazard sweetned; there's the bliss,

The proof of Valour.—This very Boar to day,
Foaming through rage, with mighty force rush'd on me,
And ere I cou'd avoid, threw me to th' ground;
When angry at my fall, I spurn'd him from me,
Rose quick, and with my Javelin pierc'd his heart.

Bellar.
Thanks Heaven for thy Escapes. Come Palladour,
Your Brother to day is Master of the Feast;
We'le play the Cook and Servant. How now, what's here?

Palla.
What's the matter, Sir?

Bellar.
Stand back a little:
But that he eats our Victuals, I shou'd think
He were a Fury.

Palla.
Jupiter—What is't?

Arvir.
An Angel, by my Soul; or else at least
Some Rural Deity.

Bellar.
A pretty Boy, a very Cupid: Hold, it's going to speak.

Eugen.
Good Master, hurt me not.
Before I enter'd here I call'd, and thought
To have begg'd or bought what I have took: Indeed
I have stoll'n nothing, nor wou'd not, though I had found
Gold strew'd ith' Floor; Here's money for my Meat: [Kneeling.
I wou'd have left it on the Board as soon
As I had made my Meal, and then departed,
With humble thanks and prayers for the Provider.

Bellar.
Money—sweet Youth.

Arvir.
Let Gold and Silver, the Dirt o'th' Earth, be priz'd
By such as worship dirty Gods, not us.

Eugen.
I see you are angry;
But know, if you kill me for my fault, I shou'd
Have dy'd, had I not made it.

Palla.
With what a modest innocence he speaks?

Arvir.
And what a rosie face he has?

Bellar.
Whither are you going?

Eugen.
To Milford.

Bellar.
I hope you have done no mischief, and are flying,
From Justice?

Eugen.
No, Heaven knows, not I.

Bellar.
What's your Name?

Eugen.
Fidele, Sir; I have a Kinsman that
Is bound for Rome; he embarks at Milford Haven,
To whom being going, I lost my way ith' Woods,
And almost pin'd with hunger,
Am faln in this offence; pray pardon me, [kneels and weeps.

Bellar.
Prethee my pretty fellow,
Think us not Churles, nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in, come, come, thou'rt welcome,
Heartily welcome, and shalt have better cheer,

Ere thou depart'st, and thanks to stay and take it.
Nay prithee wipe thy eyes: Boys, bid him welcome.
By Jove, there's something in his honest Look,
That moves my heart with love and pity for him.

Pallad.
I know not what you feel, but in my breast
Love gives him large possession; my Genius tells me,
He's worthy our best Favour. Sir, I embrace ye.

Arvir.
And I as kindly as I wou'd a Sister,
Were she distress'd as thou art. Welcome, dear Brother:
I'le call thee so, and wou'd revenge thy wrongs
With a full heart, knew I the fatal Authors.

Eugen.
A thousand blessings on you. Oh gracious Heaven!
Can this be true? Are there such blessings left
Yet for Eugenia?

Pallad.
He weeps at some Distress.

Arvir.
And the clear drops stand on his blushing Cheek,
As pearly dew on Roses. Come, my sweet Brother,
You must not be thus sad; we are all your Friends,
And love you heartily, I do swear. [Embraces.

Pallad.
And I, by yonder Sun; there is methinks
A sympathy between us.

Bellar.
For my part,
I lik'd him at first sight: Come, welcome, welcome;
In troth you are too melancholy.

Eugen.
A small Distemper, Sir:
'Twill quickly away agen.—How courteously they use me?
And with what honesty express their Love?
Dear modest Creatures.

Bellar.
Now Sirs, let's in,
And dress our Venison; when we have supp'd, sweet Boy,
We'le mannerly desire of thee thy Story,
As far as is convenient.

Eugen.
I'me oblig'd to you for Life, Sir.

Arvir.
Come dearest Brother.

Pallad.
More lov'd than the ruddy morn, or the
Purling Brook, when parch'd with heat o'th'
Dog-star, we descend to quench our eager thirst.

Eugen.
I'me bound to you for ever:
And now too well I can disprove Report,
The Countrey is not savage, but the Court. [Exeunt, they embracing her.

SCENE III. Enter Pisanio.

Pisan.
My Heart throbbs still, my Senses are disturb'd too,
And since I left the Princess in yon Court,
I have not been at rest; sure she's innocent,
And I and her rash Lord have been abus'd.
I'le seek her out,
And comfort her, for I believe she's innocent. [Exit. Enter Cloten in Ursaces Cloaths, and Jachimo dragging in Clarina in a mean Habit.

Clar.
Look on my tears, and let them melt your heart,
Your rocky hearts, yet harder far than Stone;
For Stones melt, when relenting Heavens weeps,
But you grow more obdurate with my tears.

Jachimo.
Tears? Why thou canst not oblige me more than to
Weep soundly; it makes the flame of Love more
Vigorous; Oh I like a passionate Woman in that
Business extreamly! she has the finest ways
With her.

Clar.
Think you not on your Souls? Alas, when I am dead,
As I will ne're outlive so black a Villany,
My Ghost will fright you, your wounded Consciences
Lash and torment you like a thousand Furies.

Clot.
Ghost? A pox o'thy Ghost: Prithee art thou such a
Fool to think we fear the Devil? Jachimo, show
Her the contrary, rowze her, towze her, Boy, I'le
Do thee an honourable kindness, and pimp for thee,
For fear of disturbance.

Jachimo.
A very friendly part, faith, my Lord: Come, Madam,
You and I must be more familiar; nay, nay, no
Strugling, my heart's a flame, and you must quench the fire.

Clar.
Rather be burn'd to ashes, barbarous Wretch; help, help.
Oh Heaven, send down thy Thunder, dash me to the Earth,
Rather than suffer this: Help, help. Enter Pisanio.

Pisan.
What pitious Cry was that? sure 'twas a Woman's voice
By the shrill sound. Good Gods, what's this I see?
My Daughter here?

Clarin.
Mercy—unlook'd for: 'Tis he, Oh my dear Father, Runs and embraces him.
In a bless'd minute are you come to save me!

Pisan.
Ha! Lord Cloten too?
Then all's discover'd, and I'me lost.

Cloten.
See Jachimo, yonder's that old Traitor too luckily
Faln into our snare: Go, go, take his Daughter
From him, and ravish her before his face.

Jachimo.
With all my heart; I'le not lose for a million.

Pisan.
He comes upon his death that touches her: Base men,
Have you no humane Nature?

Cloten.
Does he expostulate? Kill, kill the Slave.

Pisan.
I first shall see thy death.

Cloten.
No, Thou shalt never see agen; for when I have conquer'd thee,
With my Sword's point, I'le dig out both thy eyes,
Then drag thee to my Mother to be tortur'd.

Jachimo.
I'le do his business presently. [Fight, Pisanio wounded.

Pisan.
Fly Daughter, fly, whilst my remains of Life
I render for thy safety.

Clarin.
Oh save my Father! Heaven save him, save him. [Exit. [Fights still, Pisanio kills Jachimo, then falls down with him, and Cloten disarms him.

Pisan.
Thou hast it now, I think.

Jachimo.
A Plague on him, he has kill'd me. Oh— [Dyes.

Cloten.
Curs'd Misfortune! He's dead; but I'me resolv'd to
Be thy true Prophet however, thou shalt not
See my death, unless with other eyes. [Puts out his eyes.

Pisan.
Hell-born Fury! Oh—

Cloten.
So, now smell thy way out of the Wood, whilst
I follow thy Daughter, find her, and cut her piece-meal.
I'le sacrifice her to the Ghost of Jachimo. [Exit.

Pisan.
All dismal, dark as Night, or lowest Shades,
The Regions of the Dead, or endless Horror;
The Sun with all his light now gives me none,
But spreads his beamy Influence in vain,
And lends no Glimpse to light my Land of darkness.
Sure near this Place there lyes a Sword, [Crawls about to find his Sword.
I'le try if I can find it. Pitiless Fate,
Wilt thou not guide my hand? My Wound's not mortal,
And I shall yet live Ages: True sign of Grief,
When we do wish to die before our time.
I'le crawl into some Bush and hide my self,
Till Fate's at leisure; there
To the dumb Grove recount my Miseries,
Weep Tears of bloud from Wounds instead of Eyes. [Crawls out.

SCENE IV. Enter Bellarius from the Cave.

Bellar.
Turning my head towards yon point o'th' Sea,
Methoughts I heard a noise of Drums and Trumpets,
With shouts of men, as of an Army landed:
Perhaps 'tis so indeed; I know the Romans
Have long watch'd an advantage, and wou'd run
With joy the race great Cæsar once begun. Enter Palladour, Arviragus and Eugenia.

Pallad.
You are not well; pray stay here in the Cave.

Bellar.
Go you to Hunting, Sons, I'le stay with him.

Eugen.
I beseech you do not; nay then you'l make me blush,
To think how much I trouble ye: Let me beg ye,
Stick to your Journal Course; the breach of Custom
Is breach of all: I am ill, but your being by me,
Is not medicinable; Society is no comfort neither,
To one not sociable: Pray go and trust me here;
I'le rob none but my self, and if my self,
The theft's so poor 'tis not worth punishing.

Pallad.
There's so much vertue in his Love and Actions,
It more and more does steal away my heart.

Eugen.
Kind Heaven preserve you both. Oh sacred Providence!
Who cou'd have thought to find such gentle Creatures
In a wild rustick Cave, by Nature only taught?
I am sick still,
Very sick; now Pisanio I'le taste thy Cordial,
I never had more cause. [Exit Eugen.

Bellar.
Let's to our Silvian sport. How now, who's that? [Exit. Enter Cloten.

Cloten.
I cannot find this Fugitive; sure the Devil
Has lent her wings to fly, and cross my purpose.

Cloten.
Hah! What are you that fly me thus? Some Villain Outlaws?
I've heard of such.—What Slave art thou?

Arvir.
A thing more slavish did I ne're, then answering.
A Slave without a Knock.

Cloten.
Thou art a Robber: I'le murder thee.

Arvir.
Ye lye, you wonot, you cannot, nor you shan't,
I'le beat your Brains out first; S'death, have not I
An Arm as long as thine, a Heart as big?
Thy words may appear bigger, but I wear not
My Dagger in my mouth.

Cloten.
A plaguy little Whipster this: Why, thou
Abject Villain,
Knows me not by my Cloaths.

Arvir.
No, I say, how shou'd I?

Cloten.
Then hear my Name and tremble.

Arvir.
I tremble at nothing but the Thunder,
And that I'me sure thou canst not do:
What's thy Name?

Cloten.
Cloten, thou Villain.

Arvir.
Cloten? Then double Villain be thy Name,
I care not—Were it Toad, Spider, or Adder,
'Twou'd move me sooner.

Cloten.
To thy Confusion know, I am Son to th' Queen.

Arvir.
I am sorry for't, not seeming so worthy
As thy Birth.

Cloten.
Does thou not fear?

Arvir.
Those that I reverence, those I fear, the Wise,
All Fools I scourge and laugh at.

Cloten.
Y'are witty, are you? but I'le fetch ye out of
Your Jest presently; Sirrah,
I'le slay thee with this hand, and when thou
Art dead,
Upon the Gates of Ludds-Town set thy Head.

Arvir.
It stands yet on my Shoulders; come, come on Sir. They fight; Cloten lets fall his Sword and runs out. Enter Bellarius and Pallador.

Bellar.
No Company's abroad.

Pallad.
Not a man stirring—You did mistake him sure.

Bellar.
No, I am firm 'twas he.

Pallad.
In this Place we left 'um.
I wish my Brother make good party with him;
You say he's very strong.

Bellar.
I have often heard so.

Pallad.
He look'd but like a Fool. But see, our
Fears may vanish, here comes my Brother. Enter Arviragus with Cloten's Head.

Arvir.
This Cloten was a Fool, an empty Purse,
There was no money in't; not Hercules

Cou'd have knock'd out his Brains, for he had
None; but I think I've stopp'd his Railing.

Bellar.
What hast thou done? [Throws the Head down.

Arvir.
Yon grinning Face will inform you.
I've cut off one Cloten's Head, Son to the Queen,
He says he is, who call'd me Villain, who
Swore he wou'd cut mine off from my
Shoulders, and set it upon Ludds-Town.

Bellar.
We are all undone.

Pallad.
Why, worthy Father, what have we to lose?
The Law protects not us, why shou'd we fear?
Arviragus, I love thee like a Brother, but envy much
Thy Valour in this Action.

Bellar.
I fear 'twill be reveng'd.

Arvir.
With his own Sword he wav'd against my Throat,
I hew'd it off; I'le throw't into the Creek
Behind our Rock, and let it to the Sea,
To tell the Fishes he's the Queens Son Cloten.
That's all I care. [Exit Arvir. with the Head.

Pallad.
I'le go and see Fidele;
I hope he's somewhat better after Sleep. [Exit.

Bellar.
Oh divine Nature, how thou show'st thy Power
In these two Princely Boys! 'tis a wonder
That an invisible Instinct shou'd frame 'um
To Royalty unlearn'd, Honour untaught;
Civility not seen from others, Valour
That wildly grows in 'um, but yields a Crop
As if it had been sow'd. Enter Arviragus.

Arvir.
I have sent Cloten's Clotpole down the Stream,
In Embassie to his Mother; his Body lyes
In yonder Thicket.—Hah, that's my Brother's Voice! [Cry within.
Where is he?

Bellar.
Gon out o'th' Cave just now to see Fidele. Enter Palladore with Eugenia as dead.

Pallad.
See Brother, see, the pretty Bird is dead,
That we so well did love.

Bellar.
Dead? and by Melancholy? this is strange.

Arvir.
Oh piercing Sight! Thou sweetest, fairest Lilly,
My Brother wears thee now not half so well,
As when thou grew'st thy self.

Bellar.
How did'st thou find him?

Pallad:
Just as you see, smiling as in a slumber;

His right Cheek reposing on a Cushion on the Floor:
His Arms thus cross'd, I thought he slept, and put
My Hunting-shooes from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answered my Steps too loud.

Bellar.
Well, 'tis in vain to mourn, what's past recovery:
Come Sons, let's lay him in our Tomb.

Arvir.
Rest there sweet Body of a sweeter Soul, [They lay him in the Grave.
Whilst we lament thy Fate. Enter Caius Lucius, Captains and Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.

Capt.
To them the Succours sent from Gaul will joyn,
And now are setting forth to cross the Sea,
And meet you here at Milford.

Lucius.
What number are they?

Capt.
At least 10000. and all disciplin'd,
Bred to the War, most willing active Spirits,
That promise noble Service; they are coming
Under the Conduct of the bold Shattillion,
Syenna's Brother.

Lucius.
Oh I know him well, a most methodical Courtier:
But when d'ye expect 'um?

Capt.
With the next benefit of Wind.

Lucius.
This forwardness makes our hopes fair. What News
Have you from Ludds-Town?

Capt.
The Queen is dead, raging with desperate madness
For the absence of her Son late strangely lost,
And as they fear is murdered. But I hear the old King
Comes forward with his Power.

Lucius.
We shall the sooner meet him;
And Cæsar shall have Tribute, or we'le shed
Our Roman Blood in Britain. What's here?
A Boy
Asleep I think, or dead; let's see his Face.

Capt.
He is alive, my Lord.

Lucius.
What art thou, Youth?

Eugen.
I am nothing; or if something,
'Twere better I were nothing.

Lucius.
This Countrey sure
Is savage grown: This Morning in yon Wood
I found an old Man, his Eyes just put out, wounded,
And freshly bleeding: And not far off from him,
A tender Virgin, running with Hair dishelved,
And crying to Heaven for succour; whom strait I seiz'd,
And carried to my Tent, where now they are.

Capt.
I saw 'um, and heard since they are of quality.

Lucius.
Look up, Youth, I'le entertain thee,

Thou shalt go with me.

Eugen.
I beseech you, Sir, excuse me.

Lucius.
By no means; I like thee well, thou shalt be my Page.

Eugen.
He's going with an Army 'gainst my Father;
I'th' Battel sure I cannot miss a death,
Amongst so many Swords. Well, Sir, if I must go.

Lucius.
Leave soft Grief,
And bend thy mind to th' War; if thou dost nobly,
Cæsar shall honour thee. March. [Exeunt, Scene shuts upon Cloten's dead Body. Enter Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus.

Pallad.
We are discover'd: Here, Sir, take your Sword,
And let's adventure out; 'tis much better
To brave a dangerous Fate, than tamely suffer it.
Pray let's to th' Army.

Bellar.
I shall be discover'd,
And then be rack'd and tortur'd.

Arvir.
Do not fear it:
This is, Sir, not a time for private Fewds;
Besides the Frost of twenty nipping Winters,
As many Summers Heats furrow that Brow
Which once was smooth: You look not now, my Father,
As you did then, when lusty Youth and Vigour
Sate blushing on your Cheek.

Pallad.
Consuming Time,
That alters every thing, you cannot doubt,
Has chang'd you much from what you were.

Bellar.
I know it;
And since your Valours prompt you to the War,
I'le hazard with good will remaining Life,
To get you Fame.

Pallad.
Whilst we have any Life, yours, Sir, shall be in safety.
Come, Brother, let's to the King's Party, 'tis the noblest way;
For never shall it be declar'd hereafter,
That our first Onset in the Race of Honour,
Was in ignoble Fight against our Countrey.

Bellar.
'Tis honourable Advice, and shall be follow'd.
And now methinks I wish to be in Battel:
Once more, Bellarius, draw thy Sword for Britain,
This Sword that made the all conquering Julius
Stoop to the Earth, and groveling kiss the Dust,
When like another Cyclops, the sound stroak
Made his well-temper'd Helm shed sparks of Fire.
This Sword shall once more know the Toyles of War,
And reek with Victory.

Pallad.
With Victory?

Oh Royal Sound, the Prize of honour'd Valour!
Let's on, let's on.

Arvir.
Methinks my Heart grows bigger,
And swells within my Breast, to meet the Fame
My fatal Sword shall purchase. Oh my Father!
The thought of your fam'd Deeds so steels my Courage,
That when I'me full of Wounds, begrum'd with Dust,
Spotted with Blood, and hemm'd about with Enemies,
I shall break through like the young God of War:
With Blood of Foes the neighb'ring Valleys fill,
Like Lightning scatter, and like Thunder kill. [Exeunt. The End of the Fourth Act. ACT V. Scene 1 Ursaces Solus.

Ursa.
From hollow Rocks and solitary Caves,
Where the evil Genius hunts the Miserable,
To mask in Shades, and shun the chearful Light,
Wretched Ursaces back to Britain comes,
Bearing this bloody witness of his Cruelty:
Heart-killing Sight! The Blood that stains this Linnen,
Once swell'd the Veins of the mildest, fairest, chastest;
O but not chast! In that my praise exceeded:
That Title fatally she lost, and now
Has paid too dearly for't;—yet divine Heaven,
Should every one that forfeits Honour, be
Depriv'd of Life, thy World wou'd be unpeopl'd.
The full fed City-Dame would sin in fear;
The Divine's Daughter slight the amorous Cringe
Of her tall Lover; the close salacious Puritan
Forget th' Appointment with her canting Brother.
Should rigorous Death punish the venial Error,
The fashion of the World would be abolish'd.
How great then is my Crime? I am brought hither
Disguis'd amongst the Cavalry, to fight
Against my Ladies Kingdom.—But 'tis enough, dear
Britain, I have kill'd thy Mistress.
Peace, I'le give no Wound to thee,
But mourn my fault, and fall in thy defence:

So some vile Wretch that in his Life has been
Unhappy, and has done some deadly Sin,
In Conscience struck, by some good Act does try
To merit Heav'n—make his peace and die. [Exit. Enter King, Lords, and Captains, and the Britain Army at one Door, and Lucius, Shattillion, and the Roman Army at another: Trumpets sound a Parley.

Cymb.
It grieves me I have reason Caius Lucius,
To meet thee thus in Arms—the Bower of Peace,
For my now frozen and unwieldy Age,
Were fitter than the noisie Tents of War,
Were Honour not concern'd.—Say therefore, General,
Is there yet left a way, our Honour safe,
That we may end the Difference without Battel?

Lucius.
The Tribute due to Cæsar being paid,
You are in peace, and we'le return to Rome.

Cymb.
That were ignoble, and not like a King.
Tho' Julius Cæsar made a Conquest here,
And of Casibelan had a Grant for Tribute,
I'me not oblig'd to pay it.

Silvio.
There may be many Cæsars,
Ere such another Julius.—Ours is a World by't self,
And the hardy Britains, Sir, will nothing pay,
For wearing their own Noses.

Shatt.
They shall pay,
If the cull'd Power of Rome and Gaul can make 'um:
But we have always noted you hard Britains,
As you call your selves, most valiant in your Talk,
And know you can run with an unmatch'd Celerity.

Cymb.
Now by my Crown,
You shall not buy us cheaply, nor shall this Isle,
That stands like Neptune's Park, pal'd round with Oaks,
And fenc'd with roaring Waters, e're pay Tribute,
While Cymbeline's alive.

Lucius.
Then for Augustus, thus I bid defiance: [Draws.
Cæsar who has more tributary Kings,
Than thou domestick Slaves, and in his Name,
Bid thee prepare for Battel.

Cymb.
I take thee at thy word: Charge, charge my Friends;
This is your happy hour: Draw all your Swords,
And fight for Liberty, Cymbeline and Britain.

Lucius.
For Honour, Rome and Cæsar, we.

Shatt.
Charge, charge there. [Shout here.

The King draws within his Troops, and the Armies engage; the Britains are beaten back, and the King taken: then Enter Ursaces, Bellarius, Pallador, Arviragus, to his Rescue; the King falls; Ursaces bestrides him.

Ursa.
Make good the Breach, whilst I defend the King.

Bellar.
Stand Britains, we have the advantage of the Ground,
The Enemies disorder'd.

Pallad.
Stand, stand and fight.

Arvir.
All Plagues pursue 'um, do they run already? The Britains return and fight, and the Romans are beaten off; Bellarius, Palladore, and Arviragus follow them; Manent the King, and Ursaces, and Britains.

Cymb.
My Life's indebted to thy Valour. Speak,
What art thou? for I know thee not.

Ursa.
A Gentleman, and the Lover of the King.

Cymb.
Thou art brave, and well deserv'st a Monarch's Favour.
The Battel ended, see me in my Tent,
Where I'le load Honours on thee. [Exit King and Britains.

Ursa.
Fetters rather.
Did he but know 'twas I that kill'd Eugenia;
O dreadful Sound! But stay, there is a deed
Must yet be done.—I'me tardy.—Now for Vengeance. [Exit. Enter Eugenia, Lucius, and Shattillion.

Lucius.
Inconstant Chance wavering, and Woman-like,
Smile once more on us.—Was ever day thus chang'd!
Those that within this hour ran from our Swords,
Like fearful Hares before the full-mouth'd Cry,
Now turn, pursue, and chace us from the Field:
Oh Devil Fate.

Shatt.
The old Man and his Sons fought like Devils,
There was no coming near 'um; they have pepper'd
All my Taper-Gallians, there's hardly one of 'em left
To give his Mistress an account of Valour.

Eugen.
This is that Devil Shattillion, now I know him,
The fatal Cause of all my Miseries.

Shatt.
They toss'd me up and down the Field like a Foot-ball,
I may thank my activity for my Life. [Shout within.

Lucius.
Hark, they pursue us,—and all is lost.
Away, Boy, from the Field, and save thy self;
Now Friends kill Friends, and there's no hope of safety.

Shatt.
Mine is secure, I've a Project for't.

Lucius.
O treacherous Fortune! [Exit.

A Flourish of Trumpets; then Enter Silvio, Bellarius, Palladore, and Arviragus.

Bellar.
Let us pursue yon scatter'd Troops, where Lucius
Seeks safety by base flight;—when he is taken,
The day's our own, and haughty Rome must bow
To th'British Power.—Come Sons,—my dear Arviragus,
Thou hast shown thy self the Hero of the Battel.

Arvir.
I am not flesh'd enough; Come, follow, follow,
I will my self take Lucius. [Exeunt. Enter Shattillion disguis'd like a Britain.

Shatt.
Let Roman Fools give up themselves to Bondage,
While I by Wit gain Freedom.
Thus habited like a Britain, have I pass'd
Through all their Troops,—unseen or unsuspected,
And now with happy speed design for Milford,
From thence to ship to Gallia,—where in safety
I'le laugh at this Contrivance, and with pleasure boast
Of my kind Fortune. Enter Ursaces and Britains; Beaupre meeting him, Shattillion starts.

Ursa.
Disguises cannot save thee, I know thee, Devil,
By more than vulgar Signs.

Shatt.
The very Devil has not a blacker Fiend, that I
Would sooner shun, than thee; but come, thou
Know'st me, what's the Result on't?

Ursa.
Death and Damnation.

Shatt.
A kind of an odd Reward for a man of my Parts:
But I'me of a Religion, Sir, that tells me,
My Life's not in your power, if taken nobly.

Ursa.
Not in my power? Yes,
If Heaven swerve not from its awful Justice,
I'me sure I have. Think on Eugenia,
O Devil think on her! She that was once
The dear lov'd Genius of this happy Countrey;
The brightest beam of Light that grac'd the World,
Made by thee black as the Shades of Hell,
Where now she wanders in the Vale of Horror.
Remember her, and let thy Soul despair.

Shatt.
Ha! Is Eugenia dead then?

Ursa.
Dead? Why didst thou think I was so tame a Fool,
To let her live after her horrid Crime?
Couldst thou imagine I would quench my Thirst
At that vile Spring, where the sordid Bruit had trampl'd,

And turn'd the chrystal Current into Mud?
Or let the spotted Serpent sting agen,
That had already poyson'd me?

Shatt.
If thou hast kill'd her, thou art miserable
Above Mankind.

Ursa.
I am, and by thee made so.

Shatt.
She was innocent, rash man.

Ursa.
Hah!

Shatt.
Innocent, I swear, as Angels; chast as the Phænix,
And was indeed the Phænix of the World,
And never to be equall'd.

Ursa.
These are Lyes which more perplex my Soul,
Than thou that mak'st 'em, and Riddles shan't
Save your Life, Sir.

Shatt.
Now I dare fight with thee
With a full heart.—Thou rash, thou wretched Creature,
Thou hast kill'd the only best of all her kind,
Eclips'd a Planet Heaven in mercy gave,
To bless and beautifie the World.

Ursa.
Still Riddles:—Doubts to plague me; but I'le try
Whether in Death you'l have the gift of Lying.
Stand you apart. [To the Britains.

Shatt.
Come on, and summon all thy skill and vigor,
For I will meet thee, fell as the hungry Lyoness
In the wild Desart, roving for her prey.

Ursa.
I'me pleas'd to know, that we with equal rage
Do play our parts in this bold Scene of death,
Occasion'd by dishonouring a Princess:
That Crime will dam thy Soul when Life is lost,
Which thus I offer to Eugenia's Ghost. [Fight, Shatt. falls.

Shatt.
Thou hast perform'd thy word:
My warm Blood
Flows from my Heart, and my departing Soul
Swims on the surface of the purple Gore:
O too small recompence for Eugenia's wrongs,
That bless'd, that innocent Princess!

Ursa.
O Heaven!

Shatt.
Nay thou'lt wonder more anon: Know then rash
Credulous Fool, I did betray the Princess.

Ursa.
Betray? how betray? O speak on;
For thou art now a Prophet to my sence,
And all thy words are Oracles? How innocent?
And how was she betray'd?

Shatt.
I'le tell the Cause I hate thee, therefore observe me:
I did bely her Vertue, and by Cunning obtain'd
The knowledge of her Apartment and Person.

Ursa.
By Cunning say'st thou?—Break not yet my Brain;

Do not distract me till I have heard all:
Say how by Cunning.

Shatt.
Cunning that now I hope may chance to dam thee.
I got my self convey'd into her Chamber, and at dead
Of night, she innocently sleeping, took view o'th'
Hangings, Furniture and Pictures, and all which
When return'd to Gaul I told you.

Ursa.
Horrid and damn'd Impostor! But say further,
Speak on thy Soul, how didst thou get that Bracelet?

Shatt.
There as she slept I cut it from her Arm,
And viewing nearer, saw the Mole I spoke of.

Ursa.
And this is true, as thou hast of rest?

Shatt.
What e're I hope, rest or unrest, 'tis true. But Oh
My Soul is wandring to its unknown home,
My Blood's all Ice! [Dies.

Ursa.
Then am I damn'd more than the worst of Fiends:
Heav'n keep not now thy Thunderbolt in vain,
To shoot at Trees, or cleave the marble Rocks,
But dart it here; here on this wretched Head
Throw thy swift Bolt, and dash me to the Center;
Let Hell devour me quick, the Fiends dissect me,
Burn, cut me atomes.—O revenge, revenge
The innocent Eugenia! Here he stands
That caus'd her to be murder'd; dam him, dam him;
Bathe him in molten Glass;—let a Cabal of Furies
Meet and consult t'invent new Tortures for him,
And be his Pangs eternal. He comes, ye Fiends,
Swift as old Lucifer, when first he fell,
And with this stroak transports himself to Hell. [Offers to fall on his Sword.

Capt.
That must not be while we stand tamely by. [The Britt. hold.
Souldiers, he has confess'd he kill'd
The Princess; let's bear him to the King.
Death is too kind a punishment, he merits the worst
Of Tortures: O horrid Murderer, away with him!

Ursa.
Let me kneel before thee,
And thank thee for that Judgement: Thou art wise,
And 'tis most true that only Death is much too kind;
I deserve Pains greater than Tongue can utter,
Or barb'rous Policy invent.

Capt.
Who cou'd imagine so much Villany
Cou'd dwell with so much Courage?

Ursa.
And shall tame lazy Death be all my Torture?
No, I have yet more Conscience than to hope it.
Poysons and Flames,
Racks, burning Iron, and flaming Lead,
Hot Pincers, Daggers, suffocating Water,
All, all are nothing, I will my self find greater:

And as in Lacedemon, the greatest Villains
Were by the State made Judges of all Criminals,
Because they best knew how to weigh and punish;
So I that know my self, my self will doom,
By Tortures here out-pain my Hell to come.— [Exeunt. SCENE III. Palace backward. Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus, Silvio, Lucius and Eugenia, as Prisoners, Guards, and Attendants.

Cymb.
Noble old Man, and you most worthy pair,
That Heav'n has made preserver of my Honour,
Let me embrace you: Yet is there a Fourth,
That in my tide of Thanks deserves large share.
He that bestrid me, gasping on the ground,
And like stern Ajax, with his shining Buckler,
Secur'd my Life from Storms of Roman Fury,
Where is he, that I may unclew my grateful Heart,
To pay the Debts I owe him?

Bellar.
Since his last Sally he has not been seen,
Though we have search'd among the Dead and Living,
And much I fear he's lost.

Cymb.
A Kingdom were too small to buy his Virtue.

Lucius.
Now great Cymbeline,
I conjure thee by thy Fortune, grant me a Request:
Let my poor Boy be ransom'd;—never Master had
A Page so kind, so dutious, diligent,
So modestly affected to his Master,—nor
So unwearied in his Service.—Let his Vertue joyn
With my Request, which I'le presume your Majesty
Will soon find in him. He is of this Countrey,
And has done no Britain harm, tho' he has
Serv'd a Roman.—Save but him, Sir,
And spare no Life besides.

Cymb.
Let me see his Face. Ha, what strange Surprize
Is this! I have seen him somewhere, methinks
His Features are familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast look'd thy self into my Favour, live.

Lucius.
I humbly thank you Majesty.

Pallad.
It must be the Boy Fidele, I'le speak to the King. Enter Ursaces.

Cymb.
What, my Preserver?
Does he then live? You holy Powers, I thank ye:
Let me embrace thee, thou best, thou bravest man;
And that I may be grateful for thy service,
Ask what thou wilt on the King's word 'tis thine.

Ursa.
Had ever Fiend such mercy? Royal Sir,
Refer your bounty till you find my merit;
Know, I am that Ursaces whom you banish'd,
For yet you know not how much I deserve.

Cymb.
Ursaces! What miracle is this?

Eugen.
Oh Heaven!

Ursa.
He Sir? A Basilisk that wounds you to the Soul
With his contagious Aspect.—Remember Eugenia,
Your heav'nly Daughter:
Think Sir, O think upon her.

Cymb.
Ha! where is she?
Speak, speak: O doubt not but I think of her.

Ursa.
You do, you must, I know it.—Now then as the Angels
From glorious lucid Thrones, eternal Mansions,
Look down and see the damn'd wallow in horrour;
So without regret or pity look upon me,
A worser Fiend, worse damn'd, for worser Reasons:
I like a sacrilegious Thief broke open
Vertues best Temple, and from the shining Altar
Impiously stole the consecrated Vessel,
The Gods had treasur'd up for their own use.

Cymb.
My blood flows to my heart; say, dost thou mean
Her Life, her precious Life?

Ursa.
The best of Lives she lost, and by my Order.

Cymb.
Then art thou damn'd indeed.

Ursa.
Then am I damn'd indeed? O true Assertion!
And see I thus submit me to be tortur'd,
Thus fall at thy Slave's feet, and beg for justice.
Be dark, thou Sun,
And be ye lesser Lights extinguish'd all:
Be Nature sick, let Shades surround the World,
And Order cease, till my Eugenia, the fair, the best Eugenia,
Be in my horrid torturing Death reveng'd.

Eugen.
Shine brighter Sun,
And all ye happy Stars glimmer for joy,
At this unlook'd for Change. Oh my dear Husband!
Here is thy Wife, here is Eugenia;
Once more receive me as the gift of Heaven.

Ursa.
Oh my Souls Joy! Canst thou e're pardon me?
Canst thou forget?

Eugen.
Heaven knows, with all my heart;
But let me beg you doubt my Faith no more.

Ursa.
If I do, may Heav'n forsake me ever,
And thou my better Genius cease to guide me.

Cymb.
Has Love so blinded thee thou hast forgot me?
Dost thou not know thy Father?

Eugen.
O my Lord!
So thrive my Soul as in my best of Duty
My heart is vow'd to you: Pray pardon me.

Cymb.
Let this declare I do. Enter Pisanio, Clarinna.

Pisan.
Where, where's my Lord Ursaces? lead me to him.

Ursa.
Ha! His Eyes lost, and for my sake I fear:
Speak good old Friend, whose cruel deed was this?

Pisan.
'Twas Cloten's; but if you love me, do not pity me:
For this was I ordain'd, and well can bear it.
Where is the Princess? let me kiss her Hand.

Eugen.
Come not near me, Murderer:
Thou left'st me in the Desart, and gavest me Poyson.

Pisan.
Poyson? May then the swift Lightning blast me,
If the Box I gave you was not thought by me
Of precious value; I had it from the Queen.

Eugen.
Most like it did, for I was dead a while.

Bellar.
My Boys, there was our Errour.

Pisan.
My Pity swaying over your Command, my Lord,
I had no heart to kill her.

Ursa.
'Twas heav'nly Mercy; [Embraces him.
For hadst thou done it, O what Misery,
What Hells had I endur'd?

Pisan.
I left her to Heavens Mercy in a Desart,
Where after I found Cloten and Jachimo,
Dragging my Daughter with barbarous design,
In whose defence, bold Jachimo I slew,
And then lost my Eyes by Cloten's Cruelty;
But what befel him afterwards I know not.

Arvir.
Then let me end the Story, I kill'd him there.

Cymb.
Heaven forbid, brave Youth:
I would not thy good Deed should be rewarded
With a fatal Sentence; prithee deny't agen.

Arvir.
Sir, I spoke it, and I did it.

Cymb.
He was a Prince.

Arvir.
A most uncivil one.

Cymb.
Bind the Offendor, and take him from our presence.

Bellar.
Nay then stay Sir, hear me speak;
First pay me for the breeding of your Sons.

Cymb.
Breeding my Sons?

Bellar.
Perhaps I am too bold: Thus bow my Knee then,
And e're I rise I will prefer these two;
Then spare not the old Man. Mighty Sir,
These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,
And think they are my Sons sprung from your loyns,
To you are debtors for their Beings.

Cymb.
Me?

Bellar.
To you Sir; you are their Parent,
Their Nurse Euriphele,
Whom I with Gold corrupted, stole these Children,
By which I thought my self reveng'd for Banishment:
But now they'r yours agen, and I must lose
Two of the best Companions in the World;
All blessing from the kind and bounteous Heav'ns,
Fall on their heads like Dew; for they are worthy
To inlay Heaven like Stars.

Cymb.
Welcome, welcome,
Ye Pillars of my Age.—O my Eugenia,
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdom!

Eugen.
No, my Lord,
I have got two Worlds by it.

Cymb.
I'le have no sadness now, this is a day of Joy; [Prisoners freed.
The Pris'ners shall be freed, our Enemies pardon'd,
The Streets of Ludds-Town shall with Bonfires shine,
And all the Temples smoak with Sacrifices.
Thou art my Brother, so I hold thee ever. [Embraces Bell.

Pallad:
Our Actions, Royal Sir, shall still declare,
We will not shame our Births.

Arvir.
Tho' bred up in a Cave,
Our Thoughts were high as Palaces, and our Souls
Soar'd still above our level: For our Valours,
Let 'em be try'd, and if we flinch in Battel,
Then let some Hero of the bloody Field
Defame and call us Slaves, not Sons to Cymbeline.

Cymb.
You are my Nerves, my Sinews, and my Age
Is firmer now than Youth. Valiant Ursaces,
Thou too art of our Blood, and by Eugenia
Claim'st a full part: But O beware of Jealousie,
That worst of Passions, cherish'd by the blood,
And nourish'd by destruction! For what's past,
Let it be all forgotten.—Love Eugenia;
The Gods have link'd your Destinies together,
Then now receive her from a Father's hand.

Ursa.
How like the Accent of some pitying God?
The King then spoke:
I swear you have outdone the Deities,
Giv'n me the brightest Jewel of Perfection.
O my fair Love! Was ever Joy like mine?
Did ever Raptures touch a Heart so nearly,
Or shoot with so much fierceness through the Soul?
The excess on't is so great, sure it will kill me.
Thus as some wounded Hero,
That where most danger was, press'd forward still,
At last his Life owes to Physicians skill:
So Love, the bless'd Physician of the Mind,
Heals all my Griefs, immortal Joys I find,
And Heaven on Earth, whilst my Eugenia's kind.

THE EPILOGUE.
Our next new Play, if this Mode hold in vogue,
Shall be half Prologue, and half Epilogue.
The way to please you, is easie if we knew't,
A Jigg, a Song, a Rhyme or two will do't,
When you'r i'th' vein: and sometimes a good Play
Strangely miscarries, and is thrown away.
That this is such our Poet dares not think,
For what displeases you's a waste of Ink:
Besides this Play was writ nine years ago,
And how Times alter, Ladies you best know;
Many then, fair and courted, I dare say,
Act half as out of Fashion, as our Play.
Besides if you'd consider't well, you'd find,
Y' have altered since ten thousand times, your mind;
And if your humours do so often vary,
These in our Comedy must need miscarry;
For as you change, each Poet moves his Pen,
They take from you the Characters of Men.
The Wit they write, the Valour, and the Love,
Are all but Copies, of what you approve.
Our's follow'd the same Rule, but does confess,
The love and humour of that seasonless.
And every Artist knows that Copies fall,
For th'most part, short of their Original. Volume back matter FINIS.