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Guard me,

Take not away the taper, leave it burning :
And if thou canst awake by four o'th' clock,
I pr’ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly.

[Exit Lady. To your protection I commend me, Gods; From fairies, and the tempters of the night,



[Iachimo rises from the trunk. lach. The crickets sing, and man's o’erlabour'd sense Repairs itself by reit: our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he wakend The chality he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! Fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! that I might touch! But kiss, one kiss-Rubies unparagon'd, How. dearly they do't ! -'Tis her breathing, that Perfumes the chamber thus : the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, 'To see the inclosed light, now canopy'd Under these windows: white and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design's To note the chamber-I will write all down, Such, and fuch, pictures--there, the window-fuch The adornment of her bed-the arras, figuresWhy, such and such-and the contents o' the story~ Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables, Would testify, to enrich my inventory. O Sleep, thou ape of Death, lie dull


her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying !- Come off, come off. -

[Taking off her bracelet. As flippery as the Gordian knot was hard. 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her Lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I'the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I've pick'd the lock, and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more-to what end?


Why should I write this down, that's rivetted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading, late,
The tale of Cereus ; here the leaf's turn'd down,
Where Philomel gave up---I have enough :-
To the trunk again, and shut the fpring of it.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night! that dawning
May bare its raven eye: I lodge in fear ;
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock frikesi
One, two, three : Time, time!

[Goes into the trunk ; the Scene closes


Act III. Scene. III. A Forest with a Cave, ir

Enter Bellarius, Guiderius,, and Arviragus.

A Goodly day! nok to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours. See, boys! this gate


how to adore the heavens; and bows you:
To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs
Are arch'd to high, that giants may jet through,
And keep their impious turbants on, without
Good-morrow to the Sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!:
We house i' the-rock, yet use thee not fo hardly
As prouder livers do,

Guid. Hail, heaven!
Aru. Hail, heaven!

Bel. Now for our mountain sport. · Up to yond hill;
Your legs are young: I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you, above, perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off.
And you may then revolve what tales I told you,.
Of Courts, of Princes, of the tricks in war.
This service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we fee :


And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The Tharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
- Is nobler than attending for a check,
Richer, than doing nothing for a bąuble ;
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for filk :
Such gain the cap of him that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross’d. No life to ours.

Guid. Out of your proof you speak. We, poor, unfledgid,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know not
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best,
If quiet life is best : sweeter to you,

That have a sharper known; well corresponding | Wich your Aiff


but unto us, it is
A cell of ignorance ; travelling a-bed ;
A prison, for a debtor that not dares
To ftride a limit.

Arv. What should we speak of,
When we are old as you when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December? How,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
We're beastly; fubtle as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat:
Our valour is to chase what lies; our cage,
We make a quire, as doth the prison's bird,
And fing our bondage freely.

Bel. How you speak !
Did you but know the city's ufuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' the Court,
As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so Nippery that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
l' the name of fame' and honour; which dies i' the search;
And hath as oft a flanderous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many time,
Doth ill deserve, by doing well : what's worse,
Must curtsy at the censure. O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once

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Firft with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.

Guid. Uncertain favour !

Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans ; lo Follow'd my banishment; and, these twenty years, This rock and these demesnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time.---But, up to the mountains ! This is not hunters' language: he that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast; To him the other two shall minister : And we will fear no poison which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the vallies.

[Exeunt Guid, and Arv. How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature ! These boys know little they are fons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus

mcanly l' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them, In simple and low things, to prince it, much Beyond the trick of others. This Poly.dore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom The King his father called Guiderius -- Jove! When on my three-foot ftool I sit, and tell The warliké feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story: fay, Thus mine enemy fell; And thus I set my foot on his neck: even then The princely blood flows in his cheek; he fweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in potture That acts my words. The younger brother Cadwal,


(Once Arviragus) in as like a figure,
Strikes life into my speech, and Thews much more
His own conceiving-Hark! the game is rouz'd.-
Oh, Cymbeline! Heaven and my conscience know,
Thou didft unjustly banish me; whereon,
At three and two years old I stole these babes;
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as
Thou reftft me of my lands. Euriphile,
Thou waft their nurse : they take thee for their mother,
And every day do honour to her grave;
Myself, Bellarius, that am Morgan calid,
They take for natural father. The game's up. [Exit.

No. XXIII.KING LEA R. Act III. SCENE II. A Heath. Storm.

Enter Lear and Fool.

LEAR. Blow

LOW winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drownd the cocks ! You fulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, inge my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike fat the thick rotundity o' the world ; Crack nature's mould; all germins spill at once That make ingrateful man!

Fool. O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry house is better than the rain-waters out o’door. Good nuncle, in, and alk thy daughter's blessing : here's a night that pities neither wise men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy belly full, fpit fire, spout rain ;
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness:
I never gave you kingdoins, call'd you children :
You owe me no subscription; then let fall
Your horrible pleasure." Here. I ftand, your slave,
poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd, old man.


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