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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE IX. Changes to the Forest. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus.

Guid.
The noise is round about us.

Bel.
Let us from it.

Arv.
What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?

Guid.
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? this way the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
For barb'rous and unnatural Revolts
During their use, and slay us after.

Bel.
Sons,
We'll higher to the mountains, there secure us.
To the King's Party there's no going; newness
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, nor muster'd
Among the bands) may drive us 2 noteto a Render

-- 328 --


Where we have liv'd: and so extort from us
That which we've done, whose answer would be death
Drawn on with torture.

Guid.
This is, Sir, a doubt
(In such a time) nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying us.

Arv.
It is not likely,
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd fires, 3 note


have both their eyes
And ears so 'ploy'd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note
To know from whence we are.

Bel.
Oh, I am known
Of many in the army; many years,
Though Cloten then but young, (you see,) not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the King
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding;
The certainty of this hard life, aye hopeless
To have the courtesie your cradle promis'd;
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and
The shrinking slaves of winter.

Guid.
Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, Sir, to th' army;
I and my brother are not known; your self
So out of thought, and thereto so o'er-grown,

-- 329 --


Cannot be question'd.

Arv.
By this Sun that shines,
I'll thither; what thing is it, that I never
Did see man die, scarce ever look'd on blood,
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison?
Never bestrid a horse save one, that had
A rider like myself who ne'er wore rowel,
Nor iron on his heel? I am asham'd
To look upon the holy Sun, to have
The benefit of his best beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.

Guid.
By heav'ns, I'll go;
If you will bless me, Sir, and give me leave,
I'll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romans!

Arv.
So say I, Amen.

Bel.
No reason I (since of your lives you set
So slight a valuation) should reserve
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys;
If in your country wars you chance to die,
That is my bed too, lads; and there I'll lye.
Lead, lead; the time seems long: their blood thinks scorn
'Till it flie out, and shew them Princes born.
[Exeunt.

-- 330 --

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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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