Imo.
I see a Man's Life is a tedious one,
I have tired my self; 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. Oh, 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 Folks lie
That have Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
A Punishment, or Trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in Fulness
Is sorer, than to lie for Need; and Falshood
Is worse in Kings, than Beggars. My dear Lord,
Thou art one o'th' 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? [Seeing the Cave.
Here is a Path to't—'tis some savage hold;

I were best not call; I dare not call; yet Famine
E'er it clean o'er-throw Nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty and Peace breeds Cowards, Hardness ever
Of Hardiness is Mother. Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak, if savage,
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 Heav'ns. [She goes into the Cave. Enter Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Bel.
You Polidore have prov'd best Woodman, and
Are Master of the Feast; Cadwall 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 thy self.

Guid.
I am throughly weary.

Arv.
I am weak with Toil, yet strong in Appetite.

Guid.
There is cold Meat i'th'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 Master, 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 stoln nought, nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew'd i'th' Floor. Here's Mony 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.
Mony, 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're 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 faln in this offence.

Bel.
Prithee, 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
E'er you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it:
Boys, bid him welcome.

Guid.
Were you a Woman, Youth,
I should woe hard, but be your Groom in honesty;
I bid for you, as I do buy.

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.
'Mongst Friends, [Aside.
If Brothers: would it had been so, that they
Had been my Father's Sons, then had my Prize
Been less, and so more equal ballasting
To thee, Posthumus.

Bel.
He wrings at some Distress.

Guid.
Would I could free't.

Arv.
Or I, what e'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
That Nothing-gift of differing Multitudes

Could not out-piece these twain. Pardon me Gods,
I'd change my Sex to be Companion with them,
Since Leonatus's false.

Bel.
It shall be so:
Boys, we'll go dress our Hunt. Fair, you come in;
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy Story.
Sofar as thou wilt speak it.

Guid.
Pray draw near.

Arv.
The Night to th' Owl,
And Morn to th' Lark less welcome.

Imo.
Thanks, Sir.

Arv.
I pray draw near. [Exeunt.

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